by JoAnn Durgin
“Seven hours, give or take, depending on stops.” Closing her door, he came around the front and slid behind the wheel. “Honey, please tell me you went before we left the hotel?”
“If you can please refrain from calling me ‘honey’ and making bathroom jokes, I think you’ll find I’m a very agreeable passenger.” Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a magazine and smoothed its curled pages on her lap. Anything to keep her fingers and mind occupied.
After pulling the car out of the parking lot and onto the main road, Cooper slanted a glance her way with a quirked brow. “Anything interesting you can share?”
“Not unless you’d like to know the best way to shave around your knees without getting nicked or how to . . . oh, never mind.” Better not to read about the best way to please your man. He probably had his own ideas about that subject.
“Well, the shaving advice might actually come in handy. Angling around the slight cleft in the chin can be tricky. Being all curved like the knee and all.”
“You don’t have a cleft in your chin.”
“Glad you noticed.”
“I was pretty close to you a few times in the last twenty-four hours, so yes, I noticed. Why don’t you tell me what degree you earned from A&M, Coop the Scoop. Journalism?”
“Shaving, of course.”
She laughed. “Mine’s in toasting bagels.”
“Better.” He darted a quick glance her way.
“What’s better?”
“This Amy. The more relaxed version who’s fun-loving and charms me senseless. As far as my degree, it’s a whole lot more fun if you guess.”
“Why can’t you come right out and tell me? Must everything be a game with you? And it wasn’t journalism even though you were the campus newspaper editor?”
He grinned. “You checked me out, huh? Asked a few questions at the wedding, did you?”
“No. That information was volunteered. No inquiries involved.”
“Not journalism. You already know I went to A&M with Kevin, and he sells lumber.”
“Kevin does much more than sell lumber and you know it. But, okay, let’s see.” Pretending to ponder the options, Amy tapped her index finger over her lips. “I know. You sell lightbulbs at Home Depot.”
With the force of his laughter, Cooper almost lost his hat. He clamped one hand on the Stetson, removing it. “Sorry, I forgot my manners. I should have taken this off in the first place.” Handing it to her, he ran a quick hand through the thick, dark waves.
She spun the Stetson on her hand, giving it an approving glance. “It’s very nice, but why are you giving this to me?” Made from deep brown felt, the hat was sturdy and well-constructed. When she angled it on her head, it drooped over her right ear. “What do you think? Is it me?”
“You’d better take that off.” His lips twisted as he darted a quick glance her way.
“Why? Because it looks better on me than you?”
“Exactly.”
She grunted. “Like I said, you make everything a game.”
“Not true. You ask leading questions and definitely bring out my latent flirting genes.”
Latent nothing. Twisting in her seat—as best she could from the confines of the seat belt—Amy gave the hat a light toss, thankful it landed upright on the backseat. “Wasn’t proper training in Stetson removal one of those rules your mama taught you all those many years ago?”
He chuckled. “You are so not subtle. I’m thirty-three and a half. Exactly. You?” He slanted a glance her way before refocusing on the road and negotiating a turn. She was grateful he was a safe driver—not overly cautious, but defensive.
“I’m twenty-seven. And your birthday is June fifteenth, but you still haven’t answered my question.”
“Your lightbulb comment wasn’t far off. Electrical engineering. And for a word person, you’re not too bad at this math thing. Kudos.”
“Thanks. Electrical engineering, eh? That’s interesting,” Amy said. “I imagine you’d be pretty handy around the house.”
“You must not have heard the joke about how many engineers it takes to screw in a lightbulb. All brains and no common sense.”
“You certainly don’t act like any electrical engineer I’ve ever met.”
“How many are we talking, exactly?”
“A few. You sure don’t kiss like one either.” What am I saying?
His brows rose. “Oh? Kissed a few engineers, have you?”
“Not a one. Well, not until you. I’d imagine an engineer would be an entirely technical, by-the-book kisser.” Now I’m talking about kissing styles? “Which you most definitely are not.”
“Well, having never kissed a journalist before, I’d have thought it’d be noisy, wordy or clinical.”
Noisy? Clinical? Amy chewed the inside of her cheek to stop her laughter and tried to keep a straight face. “In spite of my better judgment, I have to ask which category do I fall into?”
“None of the above. You’re definitely in the creative category.”
Her phone rang and she busied herself rummaging through her purse, grateful for the interruption. Digging it out of her purse, she shot Cooper a warning glance. “Not one word.”
He made a show of zipping his lips as she answered the call.
“So, how was the wedding?” Mitch asked.
“Great. Beck was gorgeous, Kevin was handsome, everything went off without a hitch.”
“As long as they’re actually hitched, I’m glad to hear it.”
Men. Didn’t they know the teasing got old? I miss you, Dad. “I’m in the middle of something. Can I call you back later?”
“You’ve got a man with you, don’t you?”
Switching on the radio, Amy startled when it blared through the speaker. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s only the radio.” She directed a semi-threatening glance at Cooper, but he shrugged and feigned an innocent “Who me?” expression.
“Put him on the phone, Amy.”
“Can’t do that, but thanks so much for calling. Catch you later.”
“And you’re misguided. Didn’t I warn you about getting in the car with a stranger?”
“How do you know it’s not Josh or Sam?”
“Because you’ve got that little nervous thing going on with your voice.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Laughing, Mitch mimicked what she’d said, purposely infusing his voice with small tremors. “I learned a long time ago how to interpret those nuances and inflections in your voice. Remember, I know you better than anyone.”
“Yeah, well, I’m working on that one.”
He chuckled. “Be good.”
“Talk to you soon.” She disconnected before he could respond.
“Boyfriend?” Cooper said.
“Worse. Mitch.” She put away her phone. “Being overprotective, as usual.”
“Don’t be too hard on the guy,” he said. “Ten to one, he’ll call you again within the hour to grill you for more details, hoping to catch you alone. I’ll be happy to talk with him, if you want.”
Turning her attention to the magazine, Amy flipped the pages. “Not necessary. How about I read one of these advice columns? That could be fun.”
“Sure, but only if we both give our opinion.”
“That certainly sounds fair.” For a half-second, Amy entertained the idea of fabricating some story about a woman torn between two men who happened to look very similar, but no, she read the article as printed. The problem posed was about a married woman who’d been having a secret love affair with a fellow office worker. Now the affair had ended, and she sought advice on whether to confess the affair to her husband, especially since she professed to still love him.
After reading the article out loud—with Cooper nodding every now and then to indicate he listened—she lowered the magazine to her lap. “So, what do you think she should do?”
“First of all, an affair with a fellow office worker is wrong on so many
levels. She should definitely confess the affair to her husband. If he loves her, he’ll accept the truth, appreciate her honesty, and then work on righting whatever was wrong with their relationship in the first place. After all, no woman who’s happy in her marriage is going to look elsewhere.” Tapping his hand on the steering wheel, he appeared more than satisfied with his answer. “Your turn.”
Amy shifted on the seat toward him. “Bear with me a second and hear me out. Suppose there wasn’t anything really wrong in her marriage. Theoretically, let’s say they had a good, emotionally satisfying relationship but he left something to be desired physically for whatever reason. The lure of someone more exciting proved too great and she finally succumbed to the temptation.”
The muscles in Cooper’s cheeks flexed. “That’s a bit shallow, wouldn’t you say? Come on, Amy. Just because the poor guy might have a hump back or something? A physical imperfection or frailty doesn’t excuse a woman for being unfaithful to her husband.”
“I’m not saying that,” she said. “I’m just . . . thinking out loud.”
“Well, while you’re doing all that thinking, maybe you could realize you didn’t answer the question. You only proposed one idea as to why she might have strayed in the first place.”
She relented. “You’re right. She should confess the affair to her husband, even if it hurts him terribly. You already know me well enough to understand my staunch policy on honesty always being the best policy. Was psychology your minor in college?”
He shook his head. “No.” After that, he remained silent.
Leaning her head against the seat, she was content to watch the passing scenery although there wasn’t much to see except dilapidated billboards, open fields, abandoned tractors and cowboy outlet stores. Finding a contemporary Christian radio station, Cooper cranked up the volume, occasionally singing along. He was probably shocked she could sit still for an extended period and not flap her jaws.
“You have a nice voice,” she said.
“Thanks. Feel free to join me. Jump right on in whenever you want.”
“Trust me. That’s not something you want to hear.”
“Try me.”
“No, thanks. I’d much rather listen to you.” She graced him with a smile sweet enough to turn horseradish into honey.
That was all the encouragement he needed, it seemed. Giving her a wide grin, he burst into another boisterous song, although this time he made up half the words and resorted to la dee da more often than not. Snuggling down into the seat, Amy hid her smile. This little adventure might prove to be quite agreeable after all.
Chapter 20
“Need to stop?” Cooper asked an hour and a half into their trip.
“No, I’m fine. Let’s keep going.” A few minutes later, the radio signal began to fade, spitting out more static than music. She turned it off. “So, you never told me your personal ground rules.”
He shot her a skeptical glance. “Sure you want to hear them?”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t. Is there some reason you think I wouldn’t want to hear them?”
“You’re mighty defensive, little lady. What’s got you strung so tight?”
“I beg your pardon?” she asked. “If anyone’s defensive, it’s you, and that line sounds like it came straight from a John Wayne movie. I gave you more credit for originality than that.”
“I’m sorry. You’re too good to be true.”
“Glad I could fulfill your teasing quotient for the day. Is that a backhanded compliment?”
“If you want it to be.”
She shook her head, uncertain how to read this man in any sense of the word.
“Okay, the ground rules,” he said. “Of course, the no hanky panky rule applies. No smoking, no drinking, no bad language and no using the Lord’s name in vain. Of course, those last few are general rules for everyone, but I don’t need to worry about any of them with you, am I right?”
“Right.”
“Then there’s the rule about talking about beloved but deceased pets. You don’t do it. Neither do I want to hear about designer shoes, handbags or the latest craziness with any Hollywood superstar couple. I could care less. Neither do I want to talk about personal care items, television shows, diets, decorating or food preparation tips or the latest antics of some overpaid professional athlete. And whatever you do, please don’t tell me about the latest scandal in Washington or which disgraced politician or spurned mistress has written a bestselling book about his or her affair. Shall I go on?”
Amy laughed. “No, I think that covers everything I might possibly want to talk about on this trip. You could have saved yourself a lot of trouble by asking me politely to shut up, you know.”
“I’d never tell you such a thing because I give you more credit than to talk about those things in the first place,” he said. “Besides, I can think of much better ways to make you quiet. Unless the pact’s still in place, and then I’d have to get a little more creative.”
“Are you always this weird with women you hardly know?” A vision of Landon popped into her head again, and she pushed it aside.
“Honestly? Only the ones to whom I’m strongly attracted.”
Don’t ask. “And have you been strongly attracted to many women in your lifetime?”
“Attracted, yes. Lots of times. Strongly attracted? Maybe five times. Acted on it? Three times, but nothing lasting or long-term ever developed. Hoped it would last? Only once.”
Don’t ask. “What happened?”
“I’m looking at her.”
Amy gasped. You deserved that one. “What? That’s impossible.”
“Why?” She detected the humor in his voice, but Cooper was straight-faced and kept his eyes trained straight ahead.
“For starters, you don’t know me.”
“What do I need to know? I could very easily fall in love with you, Amy. What’s not to like? It’s obvious you’re no serial killer, gold digger or after anything other than my good looks and charm.”
She slumped back against the seat, massaging her fingers on both temples and shaking her head.
“Careful. You might dislodge something up there.”
“Oh, you!” she hissed. “One minute you’re telling me you’d like to marry me and the next you make me feel like a complete idiot.”
“I didn’t say anything about marriage. I said I hoped it might last. And you’re no idiot.”
“Well,” she said slowly, as though talking to a small child, “saying you hope a relationship might last pretty much means marriage in my book. Surely a man who has no casual hanky panky as a ground rule doesn’t believe you can have a lasting relationship without the benefit of marriage.”
“I thought we’d already settled that back at the inn. Sorry, couldn’t resist. Now that I’ve got you all flustered, do you agree we should take this one step at a time?”
She narrowed her eyes. Why was it she couldn’t stay angry with this man any longer than she could hold her breath? “Was that little stunt intended to get me all . . . all . . .”
“Flustered? Or hot and bothered,” he said. “Take your pick.”
“Stop this car, Cooper. Stop it right now.” Amy grabbed the door handle, her fingers clenched tight. If her words didn’t sound commanding enough, surely the glare she gave him would convince him to pull over since she didn’t relish the idea of jumping from a moving vehicle.
“Calm down,” he said. “I never meant to offend you. Really. Forgive me.” He quickly pulled the car to the side of the road. “Please stay in the car. I’d never forgive myself if you hitchhiked and got kidnapped—or worse. We’re heading toward the Texas border, and it’s not exactly known as the safest state around.”
“At least you have capital punishment in Texas, right?”
“I know one way to get you to smile again. Look at me, please.” His voice was quiet.
“I will not.”
“Don’t be childish.”
“I am no
t.” This whole scenario was wonderfully absurd, but she dared not give him the satisfaction of giving into a grin.
“Then look at me.”
Turning her head slowly, she met those blue eyes. As she suspected, one look and she melted. What a hopeless romantic. Like it or not, she was quickly falling for this man. Worse yet, she sensed he knew it.
“That’s much better,” he said. “It’s almost time for lunch. What do you say we pull off at the next exit that looks promising and find someplace to eat?”
“If you promise to behave yourself.”
His smile thawed her even more. “Promise.”
Chapter 21
“I still want to know what that last conversation was all about. But not now,” Amy told him, trying her best not to shake her head again and have him joke about dislodging brain cells. Like they’re just flying around in there willy-nilly.
Deciding on a family, sit-down restaurant called Kleinman’s a short time later, Amy excused herself to go to the ladies room after they’d been ushered to a booth.
“Don’t be long,” Cooper said, stretching his arm along the back of the booth. Great. Next time she’d request a table. She rolled her eyes and stalked off in a bit of a huff although they both knew it was for show. The man was entertaining, she’d give him that much.
No sooner had she dried off her hands than her cell phone rang. She hesitated, half-wishing it was Landon, half-hoping it wasn’t. Picking up the phone, she glanced at the display. Mitch.
“Hey, Mitch.” Slowly exhaling, she leaned against the counter, cradling the phone against her ear.
“You gonna tell me now?”
“I’m a grown woman, you know. Believe it or not, I can handle life on my own when I’m outside the scope of your protection.”
“Look, being serious here for a minute. It’s not like you to take off with some guy. You’re usually a lot more cautious. See, I was right—and maybe a little prophetic—when I said I should be worried about you taking off with some stranger in a car.”
“He’s not just any guy. And he’s not a stranger.”