Gage Cooper squatted in front of her cantankerous old fireplace insert, rattling the vents and coughing as smoke filled the room. She hurried forward and twisted the right lever. The smoke started up the chimney again. He looked up at her.
“Sorry, I couldn’t get it to work.”
She shrugged off the apology. “It takes skill.”
“I have skill.”
“Of course you do.” She glanced at the pile of wood on the hearth. “Thank you for bringing that in. I could make you a cup of coffee but I don’t have a coffeemaker. I only drink tea.”
“I’m good.” He shoved in another log. The embers glowed brighter, sparked, and the fire came back to life. “There you go.”
He pushed himself to his feet. Layla’s hand went out to steady him, but she pulled back, unwilling to make contact. He smiled at her, as if he knew.
“I’ll make tea.” She walked away, leaving him to make the slow trail after her. “And then you should go.”
She called back the last without looking at him.
He chuckled in response.
When he entered the kitchen she turned, watching as he sat at the rickety old table that had been in the house since before her birth. The wood had faded. The chairs wobbled. She’d tightened them dozens of times over the years but they were close to being firewood.
“So, how’s...”
She cut him off. “Let’s not make small talk and pretend to be friends.”
The microwave beeped and she pulled out a cup of hot water, dropping a tea bag in before chastising herself for sounding like a shrew. But the stern lecture didn’t last long. He deserved her anger.
She looked at him as she dunked the tea bag. He had settled on one of those wobbly chairs, his left leg straight in front of him. His hat was on the table and he’d folded his arms over his chest.
“I’m sorry that I hurt you.”
“I think you’ve said that before.” She put the second cup of water in the microwave and brought the finished cup of tea to Gage.
“I was a kid, Layla. I was spoiled and thought I could do no wrong. I didn’t think about your feelings.”
The words stunned her because he sounded so amazingly sincere. His face looked sincere. His eyes looked sincere. She was not a good judge of character. She was the person who kicked the dog out of the house for chewing up shoes and then let him back in, thinking he wouldn’t do it again.
The few relationships she’d had in her teen years had been with the wild ones her mother had warned her to stay away from. But then, at sixteen her mom had told her to fall in love with a Cooper, a man who would treat her right.
Layla didn’t want to think of all the reasons her mom had said that to her. The list had been long. Her mom’s life had been hard. She hadn’t wanted her daughter to follow in her footsteps. Layla’s mom had wanted her to marry someone who would take care of her, who wouldn’t hurt her.
“Layla, I mean it. I’m sorry.”
“Right, I know. I’m no longer a naive kid, so thank you for the life lesson and now for the apology but...”
He grinned again. “But you’d rather hold the past over my head.”
I’d rather keep my heart safe. “I’d rather you drink your tea and go.”
Because if he sat there any longer, she’d remember how it felt when they studied chemistry together, and how she’d discovered chemistry of a different kind when he kissed her, a sweetly chaste kiss but one that had changed her life. And then she learned that he’d been using her to get to her best friend. At sixteen, it had felt like the worst thing that could ever happen. If only she’d known how much more life could hurt, she would have cried less over him.
As for her best friend, Cheryl, the friendship had ended. Not because of Gage, but because Cheryl had stayed in college when Layla had come home to raise Brandon. Cheryl married a man from Texas, and she had a baby now.
From outside she could hear the loud engine of a truck. She heard laughter and then doors slamming. Brandon was home. After a few minutes he tumbled into the kitchen, bringing cold air and the strong odor of alcohol.
“What’s for supper, sis?” He glanced in Gage’s direction, grinned and plopped into a chair that nearly collapsed. “What’s he doing here? Got yourself a new man? One with money?”
Before she could stop him, Gage Cooper jumped out of his chair. He grabbed her little brother by the front of his shirt and pulled him to his feet. Gage’s face went red and Brandon’s went a few shades paler.
“Don’t talk to your sister that way.”
“Or you’ll what?” Brandon slurred. “What’ll you do, Gage Cooper?”
“I’ll mop the floor with your sorry hide.”
“Oh, right, because you always do the right thing.”
Gage let him drop into his chair. Layla hurried to separate the two of them.
“Gage, you should go.”
Gage looked long at her brother and then at her. “Layla, you deserve more respect than that. More than either of us has shown you.”
“He’s a kid. He’s made mistakes.”
“He needs someone to yank a knot in his tail.”
“It won’t be you. He’s my brother and we’re handling things.”
“Of course you are.” He looked around and she knew that he was seeing the ramshackle house for what it was. The kitchen appliances were on their last legs. The floors were sagging in spots. Insulation was nonexistent. Wind blew in through the windows strong enough to move the curtains.
“We are.” But she was barely holding it together at the moment. She knew how to be strong. But she didn’t know how to accept his sympathy.
Gage leaned over Brandon again. “If I ever hear you talk to your sister like that again, you’ll answer to me.”
“Whatever.” Her brother turned his head.
Gage let out a long sigh and pushed his cup in front of Brandon. “I’ll take a rain check on the tea.”
Layla nodded, too stunned to find the right words. She watched Gage shove his hat back on his head and walk slowly down the hall to the front door. A minute later his truck started, and she knew he was gone.
The fight left her in one fell swoop. She sat down at the table and reached for the steaming cup of green tea. Brandon leaned forward and lost his lunch all over the kitchen floor.
She was handling things.
She was handling being a single parent to a rebellious teenager. She was handling the bills that had to be paid. And somehow she would handle Gage Cooper being back in town.
Chapter Two
Gage rolled up the drive to Cooper Creek. He breathed in and out slowly, trying to let go of the urge to go back and beat some sense into Brandon Silver. But that would put him smack-dab in the middle of Layla’s life, and that obviously wasn’t where he wanted to be. Layla was the kind of woman a man married. He made a habit of staying away from the marrying kind.
He parked next to his brother Jackson’s truck and got out. For a minute he stood in the driveway looking up at the big old house where he’d grown up. In a week it would be hung with lights and trimmed with red bows. His mom sure loved Christmas. And she loved her family.
He took off his hat and scratched his head. He didn’t know why that love had been feeling like a noose for the past year or so. Maybe because it had felt like he couldn’t meet any of the expectations placed on him. As he walked up the steps, the front door opened. His mom stood in the doorway, her smile huge. She wasn’t a big lady but sometimes she seemed like a giant. She had a way of being strong and in control, even with a bunch of men in the family towering over her.
“It’s about time.” She smiled, and he smiled back.
“I haven’t been gone that long.”
“Since summer.” She grabbed him in a big hu
g. “I thought you’d be here an hour ago. I was starting to worry. I even called your cell phone.”
“I left it in my truck.”
“Weren’t you in your truck?” She pulled him inside. “Where were you?”
“Helping Layla Silver put some cattle in.”
His mom’s smile dissolved. “She’s had a rough time of it lately. Word around town is that Brandon has been pulling some capers.”
Capers. That was his mom’s way of saying the kid was in deep trouble.
“What kind of capers?”
“Stealing, setting hay on fire and vandalizing. But he hasn’t been caught, so it’s all just hearsay.”
“Well, right now he’s sitting in her kitchen drunk.”
“I’ve heard that, too. And it’s a shame. His daddy was a horrible alcoholic before that accident. They say he was drunk that night.”
“I know.” He didn’t need to hear the story again. He didn’t need to relive his own guilt again. “What’s for dinner?”
Change of subject. His mom looked up at him, her smile fading into a frown. “I thought we were discussing Layla?”
“I know what we were doing. Now we’re avoiding discussing Layla.”
He’d like to avoid reliving his past and all of his mistakes in the first few hours of returning home. There wasn’t a thing he could do about what he’d done. He couldn’t do anything about the injustices in the world, when guys like him walked through life without a bump or bruise while the good guys took the hits.
Good guys, like his brother Reese, blinded after an explosion in Afghanistan. Gage was not on good terms with God right now, and Reese was the big reason why.
The last thing he wanted to think about was Layla, and how he’d become her friend because Cheryl Gayle wouldn’t talk to him. Finally, after a few short dates with Cheryl, he’d realized his mistake. She’d been pretty—and pretty close to annoying.
And he’d missed Layla. He always thought she’d be married by now. If things had been different, she probably would have been.
“Gage, I’m glad you’re home,” Angie Cooper said, reading the look on his face.
“I’m glad I’m home, too.” He walked with her through the big living room. In a few days they’d put up a tree. Not a real one. They’d changed to fake trees the year his brother Travis met Elizabeth. Her allergies had almost done her in that first Christmas.
Now the wagon ride they used to take to cut down a tree was just a wagon ride. They would all pile in the two wagons, take a ride through the field and then come home to hot cocoa and cookies. Family traditions. The Coopers did love them.
He wasn’t crazy about them. He’d been living in Oklahoma City off and on. Had even spent some time down in Texas. Anything to avoid coming home.
“It was good to have Dad out there for the last night of the finals.” It had been even better to wake up in the hospital and see his dad sitting next to the bed.
“He was thrilled that he could be there. And so proud of you. But I would have liked for you to come home and have the surgery here instead of in Texas.” His mom touched his arm. “How is Dylan?”
Dylan was a year older than Gage, and the two brothers had always been close. Dylan had been living in Texas for about a year, avoiding the family. Mainly because he had known they wouldn’t understand what he was doing. “Mom, he’ll be home as soon as he can.”
“Why is he doing this?”
“Because Casey is his friend, and she needs someone to help her while she goes through chemo. She doesn’t have family.”
“I know but it’s a big responsibility for a young man.”
“He’s twenty-eight, and you’ve taught us all to help those in need.”
“It’s one lesson you’ve all learned.” She hooked her arm through his. “Jackson is here.”
“Good. I meant to tell him about a few bulls that are going up for sale.”
“You boys and those bucking bulls.” She shook her head. He didn’t mind that she didn’t get it. She got just about everything else that mattered. Before she walked away he hugged her again.
“I’ve missed you.”
She smiled at that, “I’ve missed you, too. Sometimes I don’t know if you know how much. Which reminds me. You missed Thanksgiving last Thursday. But you did not miss serving dinner tonight at the Back Street Community Center.”
He nearly groaned. He hadn’t timed this as well as he’d thought. Each year they had a community dinner a week after Thanksgiving.
“How long do I have?”
She patted his back. “A few hours. Don’t try to leave.”
From the kitchen he heard Jackson laugh. Gage walked into the big open room that always smelled like something good was cooking, and usually was. He ignored Jackson and opened the oven door. Rolls. He inhaled the aroma and closed the door.
“Better stay out of there or Mom will have your hide.” Jackson poured himself a cup of coffee and offered one to Gage.
“No, thanks.”
“Did I hear you say something about Layla Silver?”
Gage shook his head.
Jackson took a sip of coffee and stared at him over the rim of the cup. Gage zeroed in on the pies lined up on the counter. He went for one but his mom slapped his hand away.
“Those are for the community center.”
“I had restaurant food for Thanksgiving. Don’t I rate at least a piece of pumpkin pie?”
“Not on your life, cowboy. You could have come home.”
“I couldn’t leave Dylan.”
His mom went to the fridge and opened the door. “I have a coconut cream pie I made a couple of days ago. Knock yourself out.”
“Thanks, Mom. That’s why you’re the best. Where’s Dad?”
“He took a load of cattle to Tulsa. He’s staying there tonight.”
Gage grabbed a fork and headed for the table to finish off the pie. “So, you guys have fun at the community center.”
He knew he wouldn’t get away with skating out on helping. He thought it would be fun to try. He took a bite of pie, closing his eyes just briefly to savor the taste. His mom’s pies were the best.
“You’re going with me,” his mom said from the kitchen as she opened the oven door and removed the homemade rolls. “Jackson, Madeline and Jade are helping, too.”
“You know I can’t stand for long periods of time.” He grinned as he tried out his last excuse, pointing to the knee he’d had surgery on.
“We’ll get you a chair to sit on.”
He’d lost. He knew when to let it go.
Jackson sat down next to him. “Lucky for you, Layla Silver will be there, too.”
“Thanks...that makes it all better.” Gage finished off his pie. “I’m going to get cleaned up.”
He made it upstairs to his room and collapsed on the bed that had the same bedspread he’d used as a teen. The posters on the walls were of bull riders he’d looked up to as a kid. Justin McBride, J. W. Hart and Chris Shivers. He crooked one arm behind his head and thought about how life had changed. He’d wanted to be them. Now he rode in some of the same events they’d ridden in. But he was still running from life.
Since he had time he flipped on the TV and searched for reruns of the finals. He didn’t find them so he settled for a few minutes of a popular sitcom. A guy who had made mistakes and was trying to make amends to the people he’d hurt. Gage thought about how much he had in common with the guy in that show. Since his bull wreck at the finals, he’d been thinking a lot about his list of wrongs.
How did he make amends to the people he’d hurt? Where did he start? He sighed, because he knew that he needed to start with the person he’d hurt the most. The person who liked him the least.
How did he do that without giving her the
wrong idea?
* * *
The parking lot at Back Street Community Center held about fifty cars. So far there were only a dozen or so. Layla parked her old truck and reached for the green bean casserole she’d brought. In the passenger seat, Brandon looked miserable and almost as green as the casserole.
“Come on. You can help serve.” She handed him the dish. “Don’t drop it.”
“I think I can manage to carry a pan.” He had that sullen, teen look on his face. She ignored it because she knew he wanted to get a rise out of her.
“Let’s go, then.”
“Why can’t I help the guys put together the buildings for the nativity?” He nodded in the direction of Bethlehem, or at least the Dawson version.
As they walked by, the star over the manger lit up briefly, flickered and went out again. Someone yelled that they’d found the short in the cord.
Brandon slowed, probably hoping she’d tell him to do what he wanted. She shook her head.
“You’re going inside.”
He groaned. “I thought helping out was a good thing, and you’re telling me I can’t.”
“You’re helping, just not where you want to help.”
They walked through the light mist to the front of the church that Jeremy and Beth Hightree had turned into a community center. Brandon lagged, his face one of absolute misery. For a second she almost caved, nearly told him he could help with the nativity buildings. But then she remembered why she’d dragged him along.
Days like this made her wish for someone to lean on. An aunt or uncle, anyone. But the one uncle they had was just as bad an alcoholic as their father had been. An aunt who was married lived in Africa. She and her husband were missionaries and rarely came home.
She walked through the doors of the old church and paused for a moment, feeling a wonderful sense of calm. The sanctuary of the church had been turned into a dining room. Tables were spread with white cloths. Pretty centerpieces added color. Layla could smell the aroma seeping up the steps. Turkey, ham, all of the typical Thanksgiving foods for this community dinner.
The Cowboy's Christmas Courtship (Cooper Creek Book 7) Page 2