It's In His Heart (A Red River Valley Novel)

by Shelly Alexander

“Coop, before you say anything else, there’s something I need you to hear.” She took a deep breath. “You’re nothing like Bradley.”

  Coop bristled.

  “I didn’t get what you were trying to say at the cabin the other day. I thought you were insulting me, accusing me of treating you like a stand-in. But I get it now. I think.” God, she hoped she got it. “You don’t have to try to measure up to him. You’re a completely different man. That’s what I like about you.”

  His lips parted but no sound came out.

  “Actually, I love that about you.” Ella’s voice was almost a whisper. “I love you. Just the way you are.”

  The wrinkles between his brows deepened.

  “So, um, that’s all I had to say. Um, you had a question?”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose, processing what she’d said. Finally he looked into her eyes. “Will you stay?”

  She tried to swallow, but her throat started to close. “Do you want me to?” she all but choked out.

  He was quiet for a second too long. Hope ebbed from her grasp. Slipped through her fingers like water through a sieve.

  Coop ran one hand through his hair. “The truth is, you probably shouldn’t stay.”

  Her heart deflated, the air wringing from her lungs. She looked down at her trembling hands.

  “I acted like an ass,” Coop said.

  Ella’s head shot up. “Me too.”

  “I’ve always acted like an ass with you,” Coop went on.

  Ella swallowed hard. “Me too.”

  “But that was before I got to know you. You’re probably better off without me.”

  This time Ella didn’t agree. Instead she shook her head. “No, that’s where you’re wrong. I’m so much better off with you.”

  Closing his eyes, he leaned his forehead against hers. “I can’t believe I’m about to do this in the john, but here goes.” He took her hand in his, her left hand, and stroked the empty space on her ring finger, staring at it.

  “I’m asking you to stay. I don’t want to go home to the cabin if you’re not there. I don’t want to get in my bed if you’re not in it.” He looked deep into her eyes. “I don’t want you to have another man’s last name anymore. That’s probably selfish, but I want you to be Ella Wells. Maybe I even want to change dirty diapers eventually. With you.”

  A tear slipped down Ella’s cheek, and Coop reached up to dry it. His hand was so warm against her cheek, and he cradled her jaw in his palm.

  “So what do you say?” he asked her, the pad of his thumb caressing her bottom lip.

  “Yes to all of it,” she said. She couldn’t stop a smile so broad it made her cheeks hurt.

  Coop placed a warm kiss on her mouth, and then he retrieved the tiny heart necklace from his pocket and placed it around her neck. He encircled her with his arms and she leaned into him. He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

  “I don’t want to move back to Albuquerque. I want to live in Red River,” she whispered against his chest.

  He laughed. “So do I. I can open a practice on Main Street. Now can we please get out of this bathroom? This isn’t how I pictured asking you to marry me.”

  Ella pulled back and gave him a sultry look, her mouth quirking at the corners. “Then let’s go to your truck.”

  A spark of lust ignited in his dusky eyes, turning them a dark shade of green. “Research for the next book?”

  Her hands smoothed over his hard chest, and she looked up at him through starred lashes. “If you’d like. From now on all my books are subject to your approval before I send them to my editor.”

  He kissed her hard. “Then let’s go.”

  Coop grabbed Ella’s left hand and fingered the wedding band he had slid onto her finger when they exchanged vows. “The ceremony was inadequate,” Coop mumbled, and pulled at her hand, trying to tug her down onto their bed.

  “It was perfect,” Ella said, and swatted his hand away to put more winter clothes into her suitcase. She’d just unpacked a week ago, when she’d decided to stay in Red River. Then she called her entire family, explained the reasons for her new career choice, and asked them to get their butts to Red River to attend her wedding. To her surprise, every last one of them showed up two days before she and Coop got married at a small informal ceremony in back of the cabin, overlooking the stream. Reverend Morgan from the Red River Lutheran Church performed the ceremony with Ella’s family, her friends from Albuquerque, and most of Red River’s residents looking on. Winston and Atlas cuddled by the stream while their masters exchanged vows, content to be together.

  “You are a strange woman, Ella Wells.” Coop smiled when he said her new name. “What do you have against big weddings? Aren’t most girls planning them by the time they hit puberty?”

  “I’m not like most girls.” She tossed another sweater and some hiking boots in her suitcase.

  “You can say that again.” He tugged at the hem of her shirt.

  “I’m not like most girls,” she parroted. “And you, buddy boy, need to start packing for our honeymoon.” She eyed him suspiciously. “Or are you already backing out on your promise?”

  “A chance to see the American Flag-Raising Site in Sitka, Alaska. I wouldn’t miss it.” He raised a brow playfully.

  “There’s also salmon fishing, and hiking in Denali National Park. And don’t forget whale watching. That should be interesting.”

  “Especially if it’s mating season.” He tugged a little harder, and she fell on the bed, landing on top of him.

  His hand found the waistband of her shorts and he dipped underneath.

  Her skin prickled under his touch.

  “We need to pack before we go see my family off.”

  “Uh-huh.” His words were muffled as he found her mouth. She kissed him deeply and lovingly, then she broke the kiss. Looking down at him, her heart filled with joy. And something else, too.

  “I love you, Cooper Wells.”

  That was it. It was love filling her heart, a mirrored reflection of the very thing that danced in his hazel eyes. Love. Bright and colorful and alive.

  Acknowledgments

  A huge thank-you to two tough and incredibly talented critique partners, Shelly Chalmers and Katherine Fleet, who aren’t afraid to tell me when I can do better. Thank you to my friend and mentor in this business, Tamra Baumann. Everyone needs a Tamra in their corner. Thank you to Stephanie Thompson, the Steady Editor, in San Diego, CA, for fighting my duel with the dreaded comma. And last but certainly not least, my deepest gratitude to my agent, Jill Marsal of the Marsal Lyon Literary Agency, and my editor, Kelli Martin of Montlake Romance/Amazon Publishing.

  Every one of you rock!

  Chapter One

  “Drop the panties, or the octopus gets it.” Angelique Barbetta held out the plush doggy toy, a bottle of bitter antichew spray pointed at its overstuffed head. She used the predatory tone usually reserved for courtroom opponents as she glared at her four-legged adversary.

  A soft breeze whispered through the trees, wrestling autumn-hued foliage to the ground. The draft of cool air caught the silky neckline of her robe and sent a chill racing through her. Late afternoon sunlight filtered through the shedding branches, and a silhouette of the snowcapped Sangre de Cristo Mountains glittered in the background. Her long black hair up in hot rollers, a sudden gust pulled a thick tendril loose, and she blew it out of her eyes, refusing to lose a staring match to a dog.

  The ten-pound weenie dog’s posture tensed, his tail wagged a fraction, and his jaw clamped tighter around the black thong panties he’d snatched from her suitcase while she was unpacking. Hence, the reason she’d scurried outside half-dressed and sporting curlers so big they could pick up a radio frequency from three states away.

  Why’d she bring skimpy panties on an extended vacay to Red River—population 475? Pfst. Insulated lo
ng johns would’ve been a more practical choice.

  She shivered against another nippy gust of autumn breeze.

  It wasn’t like she’d ever wear the string bikinis currently lodged between her dog’s teeth. They’d been part of the risqué honeymoon trousseau given to her by her best friend, Kimberly, and the horde of female Barbettas. Of course, that was before she caught her fiancé, Gabriel, screwing their legal assistant on top of his desk. While Angelique was recovering from invasive breast cancer.

  Asshole.

  Come to think of it, she should let the dog have them. Let Sergeant Schnitzel chew up the underwear and every last memory of what she thought she had with Gabriel.

  Just like she’d accidentally let the dog chew up Gabriel’s Armani jacket. And his Tumi briefcase. And the crack in his brand-new fifty-five-inch widescreen—a testament to his insecurity and belief that size really did matter—may or may not have been an accident. Golf clubs sometimes slipped out of one’s hands midswing. It happened.

  Sergeant Schnitzel whined, his tail wagging at lightning speed.

  “Come on, Sarge. Drop ’em. Please.”

  Jeez, she was pathetic. Had she really been reduced to begging a dog?

  Okay, admittedly, destroying Gabriel’s personal property had been a vindictive reaction, but her momentary lapse in emotional restraint was understandable. While she was in the process of moving out of their rented condo, Gabriel announced his shotgun wedding to their legal assistant because he’d knocked her up. Then he actually expected Angelique to attend along with the rest of their law firm because cohesion looked good for the junior partnership he’d just landed. So much cruelty at once probably would’ve pushed Mother Teresa over the edge. That was Angelique’s story, anyway, and she was sticking to it, because Gabriel deserved it times ten.

  About the Author

  Photo © 2014 Frank Frost Photography

  A 2014 Golden Heart® finalist, Shelly Alexander grew up traveling the world, earned a BBA in marketing, and worked in the business world for twenty-five years. With four older brothers, she watched every Star Trek episode ever made, joined the softball team instead of ballet class, and played with G.I. Joes while Corvette Barbie stayed tucked in the closet. When Shelly had three sons of her own and no daughters, she decided to escape her male-dominated world for some “girl time” by reading romance novels and has been hooked ever since.

  Now she spends her days writing steamy contemporary romances while tending to an obstinate English bulldog named Lola. Her debut Red River Valley series is set in the quaint mountainous area of northern New Mexico, where fun, quirky characters and beautiful landscape embody the essence of small-town life. Find out more about Shelly and her work at http://shellyalexander.net/