Slowly, he moved his hands away, giving her access. She placed the cloth over his eyes and molded it to his nose and forehead.
“I’ve never been pepper sprayed before.” Sarcasm threaded through his voice. “Any idea how long the burning will last?”
“About thirty minutes or so. Just don’t rub your eyes. It’ll make it worse.”
Silence descended again, and Ella watched the rise and fall of his muscled chest. What the heck, his eyes were covered. Why not sneak a peek? She absorbed his athletic build with an appreciative scan from head to bare feet. He really was a gorgeous man. As much as it pained her to admit it, she could see how he so easily seduced women of all ages, shapes, and cup sizes within seconds. Too bad he felt it necessary to be such a prick to her.
Speaking of . . .
Her eyes went to the package just below his waist. He really did fill out those boxer briefs nicely. In fact, he could easily be a model for men’s underwear. Move over, David Beckham. Long, powerful legs stretched out beside her, his upper arms bulging while he held the wet rag to his eyes, that caramel mane was tousled just enough to look sexy as—
“See something you like?”
She jumped, and her eyes flew to his. With the rag lifted a fraction he stared back at her. Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap. “Uh, no!” C, R, A, P in capital letters. “I just wanted to see if you were hurt, uh, anywhere else.” She bit her lip.
Oh, God. What would Bradley think? Yes, his dying wish had been for her to move on. Find someone else and marry again. He knew how much she wanted kids. But, ogling Cooper Wells? Her gaze fell to the ground in shame.
He dropped the cloth back onto his eyes. “What are you doing here, Ella? Don’t you have history students to teach or whatever?”
“It’s summer, and I quit my teaching job three years ago.” Her words clipped out at a sharp pace. “To take care of Bradley, remember?”
He swallowed, his mouth thinning into a hard line just below the rag.
Really? He didn’t remember that? Unbelievable, even for a self-absorbed . . .
Coop lifted the cloth again. His puffy red lids caused her conscience to rear its foul head. Guilt threaded through her.
“Didn’t you get my message?” she asked, trying to sound contrite.
Chicken that she was, she had called his home phone before leaving Albuquerque when she knew he’d be at work. After the long and detailed message she’d left—which had been cut off, forcing her to call back twice to finish it—she felt certain he would stay away and give her the peace and quiet she so desperately needed to close this chapter of her life. So, why was he asking her for an explanation? As far as she was concerned, he had some explaining to do.
“What message?” His voice dripped with suspicion, and his posture tensed.
Well. Obviously, he hadn’t gotten her message that could easily qualify as a dissertation for a doctorate degree. A knot started to form just below her breastbone.
A hefty bark sounded from the porch.
“Oh, God. I forgot Winston.” Ella ran for the front door, which still stood ajar.
Leading her muddy canine inside, she gave the knotty pine door a shove, and it thudded shut. She frowned at the dirty paw tracks left in Winston’s wake, but couldn’t deal with that mess right now. Not when she had a much bigger problem staring right at her, by the name of Cooper Wells.
“You remember Winston, right?” Ella asked. Coop’s brow furrowed. “No? Oh, I keep forgetting you were too busy to visit Bradley much.” A muscle in his jaw flexed. So there, Mr. Hotshot. Your power shift failed. “I got Winston for Bradley when he was sick. He always wanted an English bulldog. I tied Winston up outside to wash the mud off, but I guess it doesn’t matter.”
Ella looked around the messy cabin. Okay, cleanliness obviously wasn’t one of Coop’s virtues, not that she thought he had any virtues to begin with. “Looks like the floor hasn’t been cleaned in . . . well, ever.”
Winston growled and yanked out of her grasp. “Hey!” Ella yelled, but Winston bounded toward a trembling mound of fur in the corner of the room.
A muffled groan sounded from Coop’s direction. “That would be my dog, Atlas.”
“Atlas.” Ella smiled, remembering the first time she’d met Bradley. After hiking the La Luz trail her first year in Albuquerque, she’d limped into his office as a new patient. Pointing to her X-rays, he’d explained the misalignment of her spine, starting with the top vertebra—the atlas. “Only a chiropractor would come up with a name like that.” She shrugged thoughtfully. “Or an English Lit major.”
Several creases appeared over Coop’s brows.
“Haven’t you read Ayn Rand?” His blank stare answered her question. “Oh, forget it.” Reading apparently ranked right up there with cleanliness on Coop’s list of priorities. Figured.
The cowering pooch rolled onto its back, whimpering. Winston pounced and licked the other dog’s snout while humping away.
Coop groaned again. “I didn’t think this night could get any worse.”
“Winston’s neutered,” Ella reassured him.
“Wouldn’t matter if he wasn’t,” Coop muttered. “Atlas is a he.”
She couldn’t help it. A rumble of laughter started somewhere deep in her gut and echoed through the cabin.
Coop glared at her. His head fell back on the headrest, and he covered his eyes again. “What happened to you, anyway? You look like hell.”
“Thanks. You really know how to flatter a girl.” She looked down at her mud-streaked legs and shoeless foot. When she wiggled her toes, mud squished out. Yeah, she looked god-awful. “The road coming in was so muddy the Beamer slid into a ditch and got stuck. I had to walk the rest of the way here.”
“You drove Bradley’s BMW up here in this weather?” An accusation hung in the air.
She bristled. “I didn’t know it was going to rain.” She crossed both arms across her chest. “Besides, I got rid of our truck. I can’t relocate to a different state driving both.”
“So if you’re moving to another state, what are you doing in Red River? And couldn’t you have called to tell me you were coming?”
“And you could check your messages once every decade or so.”
There went that muscle in his jaw again.
A wheezing snore emerged from the corner. Winston and Atlas cuddled. Winston was fast asleep and both looked content. Well, they’d just seen more action in two minutes than she’d seen in the past two years. Too bad she didn’t smoke. If she did, she’d offer them a cigarette.
“I’ll pull your car out of the ditch tomorrow, so you can be on your way.”
Tomorrow? Three and a half years had passed since Bradley’s terminal cancer diagnosis. She’d come here to make peace with losing him before starting over somewhere else. She planned to give Coop her share of the cabin when she left, but she sure wasn’t going to let him push her out before she was ready.
She wouldn’t be asking for much, just a little time in this secluded mountain retreat that had meant so much to Bradley. Before she turned the property deed over to Coop, she had to give her heart a chance to mend. It was her only hope of finding love again, of building a new life—a life that she hoped would include children and a man just like Bradley.
Coop’s presumptuous statement needled her like a burr under a horse’s saddle. She narrowed her eyes. If he couldn’t give her a little space, then maybe she’d keep her share of the cabin. After all, he hadn’t offered to buy her out yet. Even if he did, she didn’t have to sell.
One foot tapped against the wood floor. “What makes you think I’ll be leaving tomorrow?”
“I’m here, for starters,” he sputtered.
She shrugged. “You’ll have to go back to Albuquerque in a few days, right? You’ve got patients to see.”
He glowered at her. “How long are
you planning to stay, then? A week, two maybe?”
Time to dig in and stand her ground. Ella planted a hand firmly on one hip and leveled a solid stare at him. “Try the whole summer.”
She looked good. Too good. Even with her hair plastered around that heart-shaped face and black sludge oozing from the perfectly painted toes of one foot, Cinder-Ella, as he had secretly dubbed her when she and Bradley first started dating, looked incredible.
In the beginning, Coop understood Bradley’s physical attraction to Ella. Her anal-retentive routine soon wore thin, though. She couldn’t handle a spontaneous act of fun if her life depended on it. When Bradley told him she didn’t much care for Red River because it reminded her too much of all the country bumpkins back in her hometown, well, that was just nauseating.
He stared at the bedroom ceiling and listened to the shower. With the bathroom next to his room, he could hear her moving around, even knew when she picked up the bottle of liquid soap and set it back down. She was in there, all steamy and wet, rubbing handfuls of Old Spice body wash all over herself. He had forgotten what a great body she possessed. A little short for his taste, not scary thin, just filled out and rounded in all the right places. The rain-soaked Nike running shorts she wore had molded to her thighs and hips, reminding him of how fit she was. Not so muscular that she lost her feminine allure, but just enough to look healthy and lush.
After the hot water washed her clean and warmed her up, she would put on the T-shirt he’d offered her. What else could he have done, since her luggage would have to stay in the car until morning? That ill-timed act of chivalry now had him in a state of misery. The minute he’d handed the white undershirt to her, his overactive imagination produced images of what would be underneath. Or, more precisely, what wouldn’t be underneath.
He swallowed hard.
“Jesus, she’s my best friend’s widow.” And she just attacked me with pepper spray, so get over it. Besides, Ella seemed like the type to prepare for any eventuality. If she carried pepper spray and a Taser in her purse, she probably had a veritable department store of extra clothing tucked in there, too.
Lifting his head, he looked down at the tented sheet.
Nope, not getting over it anytime soon. His head fell back on the pillow.
His latest experience with a member of the opposite sex should’ve rendered him incapable of such an intense reaction. That nightmare had led to this self-imposed exile to Red River.
She thinks she’s staying all summer. Coop snorted. As if he’d let that happen. It was too late to argue about it tonight. Plus, he needed time to come up with a good reason why she had to leave. Immediately. He couldn’t tell her the truth. Not unless she’d already heard about his situation. God, he hoped not. Since he hadn’t been arrested yet, his attorney had managed to keep it out of the news. No, he doubted she knew, or else she’d have been her usual smug, condescending self. When it came to him and his confirmed bachelor lifestyle, she let her disapproval glow like radioactive waste.
She never made an appearance at the cabin when Bradley was still alive. She probably thought the “hicks” here were beneath her. She usually made Bradley take her on some ridiculous historical vacation. Okay, she was a history teacher. He’d give her that much. But she’d made it clear that Red River wasn’t up to her lofty standards, which had always been fine by him. He’d preferred that Bradley come alone, so they could do guy stuff like fishing and rafting. So they could drink beer at night with their feet up on the coffee table, and burp or scratch themselves without Cinder-Ella staring down her nose at them.
So, why now?
The shower shut off. After a few minutes of Ella doing whatever women do in bathrooms, the door opened, and footsteps retreated down the hall. The wood planks creaked under her feet. She called for Winston to follow, and her door clicked shut.
He ran two fingers across his bloated eyelids. Tomorrow, the first order of business would be to drag her car out of the ditch, then get her on the road and out of his life.
Chapter Three
Ella yawned and wandered into the empty den, Cooper Wells far from her thoughts. She grabbed a crocheted afghan off the sofa and tugged it around her shoulders. Pulling the front door open, she whistled to Winston. “Come on, boy, go outside.” Winston hustled outside for his morning constitutional, and Ella snuggled deep inside the handmade-by-Granny blanket, stepping out onto the wooden porch. The crisp mountain air filled her lungs and bit at her bare feet.
For several years she’d stayed away from the cabin after her fateful run-in with Cooper Wells. But after watching Bradley wither into nothingness, his rural hideaway, where he’d come to relax and recharge, was the only place she wanted to be right now. Red River—where the Ute and Jicarilla Apaches once roamed, and prospectors had carved countless mines looking for precious metals—sat nestled into a lush, green valley and held a serenity that brought peace to her wounded soul.
Winston shuffled up onto the porch and let out a low growl, cutting his eyes up at her.
Chuckling, she bent to scratch him. “You ready to eat?”
He barked.
“Stupid question,” she said, and walked back into the kitchen, her bare feet slapping against the linoleum. Rummaging around in the pantry, she found a bag of dog food. Thank you, Atlas. She pulled a large bowl from the cupboard and filled it. While Winston devoured the kibble like a vulture having his first meal in a week, Ella searched through the disorganized cabinets.
The French press coffeepot she bought for herself and Bradley when they were dating lay hidden behind a haphazard mound of mismatched pots and pans. She pulled it free and circled her finger around the lip of the carafe. It definitely failed the white-glove test. The gray dust coating her fingertip confirmed it hadn’t been used since the first, and last, time she visited. She gave it a good washing, and then foraged around the messy kitchen, locating the necessary ingredients to make coffee—the only thing she could successfully create in the kitchen.
When she finally held a steaming cup in hand, she ambled through the lower level, reacquainting herself with the place. Definitely a guys’ weekend retreat. An eclectic collection of country and rustic furnishings filled the den and dinette. A wrought-iron staircase spiraled upward to a loft that offered several sets of bunk beds and a bathroom that hadn’t worked since before she met Bradley. As photography was one of Bradley’s hobbies, several of his nature photographs still garnished the walls.
Bradley had loved this place. The solitude of Red River had been his refuge since he started coming here with the Wells family in his adolescence. He would’ve loved nothing more than for her to share it with him, but she’d disappointed him. She and Coop, the two people Bradley cared about most, had let him down in the worst possible way.
She stopped at the bar separating the kitchen from the dinette, and cleared off a barstool that was stacked practically to the ceiling with Coop’s miscellaneous junk. She’d really have to give this place a good cleaning, and soon, just to make it livable. After she gave Coop full ownership and left for destinations still to be determined, Coop could dirty it up to his heart’s content. While she lived here, though, the clutter had to go.
Ella perched herself on a barstool and sipped her coffee. The afghan slipped off one shoulder, and she pulled it back on, angling her stool toward the large picture window, which offered a grand view of the babbling stream that ran through the back side of their property. The log she had sat on to watch Bradley fish for trout still lay there, clumps of blue fescue grass growing up around it.
A loud snore reverberated from the corner. Ella laughed. Finished with his breakfast, Winston had found a cozy spot on top of the floor vent and curled into a ball for a nap. His back legs moved in rhythm, and Ella shook her head. Probably dreaming of Atlas.
Even though she only intended to stay the summer, the cabin felt nice, comfortable. Like home. It needed a litt
le tidying up, granted. Glancing around the lower level, which had everything from clothes to sports equipment strewn around, she lifted a dirty sock from the other barstool with two fingers. Well, maybe it needed to be disinfected and some of the contents torched, but still, it would be cozy once she cleaned and organized it. She tossed the sock aside and wiped her hand on the afghan with a grimace. Still, the cabin was comfy and intimate, and Red River had always reminded her of the coziness and tranquility of her home in East Texas, without all the family drama and obnoxious demands for her to stay and help work the ranch.
She shuddered at the thought.
She stared down at the dark brown liquid and rolled it around in her cup. Steam curled up and teased her nostrils. Warmed her soul. A great way to start the day, especially in the mountains where a chill always hung in the morning air, even now in early June. Unfortunately, her favorite drink couldn’t dispel the guilt she still carried.
The truth was she loved it up here. During that one and only visit to Red River, she’d fallen in love with the town, its charm, the quaintness, and the familiarity of everyone knowing each other. It was kind of cute, actually. Safe. Secure.
Coop’s Toyota Tundra, with its oversized off-road tires, churned into the driveway, her BMW in tow. His beefy truck circled the cabin and pulled to a stop in front of the window, blocking her scenic view of the stream and ending her nostalgic walk down memory lane. Bradley’s image faded like mist, leaving her with a view of mud-encrusted steel-belted radials. Filth covered both vehicles, but hers didn’t even resemble the same car she left in the ditch last night. Instead of midnight blue, it had transformed into a sludge gray. Not a fleck of blue paint could be seen through the thick grime.
Coop jumped out of his truck and headed for the house, Atlas bounding after him. Coop’s caramel hair feathered against the breeze, and his faded jeans went taut over muscled thighs with each long stride. Behind him, his younger brother, Calvin, got out of the truck, and Ella smiled. A younger version of Coop, Cal had darker hair and a boyish face just as handsome as his older brother’s.
It's In His Heart (A Red River Valley Novel) Page 2