by Susan Meier
And she shouldn’t. Her not trusting him shouldn’t bother him. He’d set out to make sure she knew what kind of man he was and clearly she now understood.
So why the hell did he care? And why the hell wouldn’t this feeling of being a slime go away?
Chapter Six
Zoe stiffened when Cooper walked into the kitchen the following morning. Still fuming over his attempted seduction, she had spent the past hour tiptoeing around him while he had done exactly as he’d pleased, as if he didn’t have a worry in the world.
She frowned. Damn it, he’d done that on purpose! He hadn’t wanted to sleep with her the night before. He’d made the blatant pass at her to make a hundred percent sure she mistrusted him, as she had in the beginning, before his caring for Daphne had proved he wasn’t such a bad guy. And before he’d kissed her in a way that made her toes curl.
He wanted her to remember he wasn’t the kind of guy she could put any kind of faith in, so he’d simply reverted to the plan he’d been using all along to get her to keep her distance. After he’d behaved like an inconsiderate lout all day, he’d reminded her that the only thing he really wanted from her was a little physical fun.
And just as he’d expected, she’d run.
It made her so mad she longed to pop him. But she wouldn’t. She was a nice girl.
And he counted on that, too.
He walked to the cabinet beside the sink, and Zoe fought the urge to inhale the fresh scent of his aftershave, then cursed herself for being attracted to such a hardheaded, argumentative pain in the butt. She couldn’t understand why her hormones weren’t getting the message that she shouldn’t be interested in him, but they weren’t. Anytime he got close to her, as he was now, a yearning billowed through her. Still, he was so gosh darn good looking, any woman would be attracted to him. Plus, he was experienced, funny and sexy. Physically perfect.
Listing his good qualities actually brought Zoe back to planet Earth and she shifted away from him. Dressed as she was, she felt like a dirt ball. Though she’d washed her clothes the day before, yesterday afternoon Daphne had spit baby food all over her. She was rumpled and grimy. He was clean, organized, in control. Even if she decided to break her rule not to get involved with another overly good-looking man, this particular hottie was way out of her league.
Of course, they weren’t really on a level playing field. She had exactly two outfits she was rotating. As a trucker, he was accustomed to living out of a duffel bag. She wasn’t even sure he had a house. On the other hand, she had a house, but it was partially empty because of her parents’ scavenging when they’d moved. Worse, her house was on the verge of being taken away. Her parents hadn’t paid the taxes for years, and neither had thought to tell her that a few years ago when the amount was small enough she might have managed to squeeze it out of her own budget. But several years worth was too much for her to pay. This time next year she could be living out of a duffel bag.
Maybe she and Cooper weren’t so different after all?
Without a word, Cooper grabbed a mug and poured himself a cup of coffee. Surreptitiously, Zoe watched him spoon in nondairy creamer. He wouldn’t say good morning. He probably didn’t feel he had to. He had made his wishes clear the night before. They were two ships passing in the night. If he wanted anything from her it was sex. If she wanted anything from him the price was sex. His life boiled down to basic needs, as if he intended to walk through without making a footprint. The way he lived allowed him to be in control and relatively content. And she couldn’t help wondering if his philosophy wasn’t right. After all, wanting more than just the basics only seemed to leave her wanting.
He made a sandwich with bread she’d taken from the freezer—the second loaf they were using—and bacon she had fried. The cost of this little retreat was mounting and that was beginning to trouble Zoe, too. At first, the money she’d intended to leave for the supplies they used was cash she had earmarked for that weekend anyway. A few dollars for gas. A few dollars for food. But now she was forced to dip into the money she was saving for Christmas gifts for Daphne.
And, damn it, that caused a lump to form in her throat. She barely had twenty bucks to spend on her baby. The gifts she could afford would have been nothing but tokens and trinkets. But at least Daphne would have presents under the tree. Now that she and Cooper were eating more bacon than she would use in a year, more coffee than she would drink in a month, and more bread than she’d eat in two weeks, she wouldn’t even be able to buy those little things.
Angry, hurt, tired of life tossing her to the ground and stomping on her, Zoe felt her chest tighten, but she swallowed hard and forced air into her lungs. She wasn’t a person who fell victim to self-pity. She also wasn’t a quitter….
Still, she knew she couldn’t possibly be on the right track with her life, or everything wouldn’t be going miserably wrong. Her parents had left. Her marriage had failed. She was losing her house. Maybe it was time to realize the common denominator in all these problems was her.
She turned away from the kitchen sink and glanced at Cooper, who sat on the sofa in front of the TV, eating his bacon sandwich, mindlessly staring at the morning news. He’d had every bit as many problems as she had. His parents had died young. His brothers had kicked him out of their lives. Yet he hadn’t merely survived, he was happy.
Why? Because he’d built a life that couldn’t hurt him. True, it was somewhat empty of people, but he was fine. She kept trying to build a life that was full of people, and she consistently got hurt.
She dried her hands on a dishtowel, then leaned against the counter. Facing the prospect of a Christmas without gifts, without cards, without calls from family, Zoe considered that it was time to face reality. Maybe that was why she had been stranded in the woods with Cooper Bryant. Maybe fate wanted her to see that some people were destined to be alone, and he had entered her life to show her how she should be living, and the kinds of decisions she should be making so she would stop getting hurt.
Still braced against the counter, she crossed her arms on her chest. It seemed logical. God knew Cooper was certainly keeping the upper hand with her. She was the one walking on eggshells, while he controlled the TV and basically did what he wanted. Did she need any more proof that his way of doing things was better?
No. She didn’t. But before she would give up her long-held dream of having a family, belonging somewhere, being important to someone, she wanted to know if he really was happy. If his life truly worked for him or if he was just a good actor. And the only way to know if he was genuinely happy was to hear his entire story.
And the only way to hear his story was…Well, she knew his price.
So, before she made any deals with him, she wanted to get some idea whether her theory was correct. And she had a good test for that, too. She marched into the great room before she lost her courage and stopped in front of the sofa, where he sat, legs extended.
She kicked his feet. “Don’t you ever think of things like maybe I don’t have the cash to pay for everything we’re using?”
He didn’t even glance up from the television. “I wasn’t going to let you pay for everything. I can see that Daphne has her own food and you and I aren’t exactly eating an equal amount.” He picked up the remote and switched channels. “My thirty bucks would have been right beside your twenty on the table with the note.”
“This is going to be more than fifty bucks altogether.”
“How much do you think, then?”
“Eighty.”
“Plus whatever else we use until the snowplow goes through.”
She relaxed somewhat. “Yeah.”
“Okay, then. You pay $30 and I’ll pay $50.”
Well, that was it. Test one. She’d confronted him and he’d hardly reacted, just spit logic back at her. He really was calm. He really didn’t stress. He clearly didn’t obsess. In lots of ways he made her feel just shy of insane. And that was another thing she was tired of. Always feeling she was n
uts, crazy, bonkers because she was reaching for something she would never quite catch.
She drew a breath and blew it out slowly. “Okay, you know what? Things have sort of happened in my head over the past day and I’ve decided I want to know your family story.”
Slowly, as if he couldn’t believe what he had just heard, he lifted his gaze until he caught hers. His green eyes glittered. “You know my price.”
“Yeah, but, you know, I’ve never been one to pay full price for anything.”
He tilted his head in question. “I’m not sure what you intend to negotiate.”
“Well, you put your story out as if it’s a big deal. And I’ve discovered I have a few reasons for wanting to know it. Those reasons have nothing to do with you. I’m doing this because I think I could learn some things from you. But the problem is you could be exaggerating.”
He laughed. “Not hardly. My story is good.”
“Or,” she said, talking over him as if he weren’t speaking, “your story could be worthless to me.”
His eyes narrowed as he studied her. “What do you think you’re going to learn? I’m not Gandhi.”
“No, but you are calm. You take life as it comes. The only time I’ve seen you yell was when you had to convince me to find shelter with you. That means you have a sense of decency and responsibility. But the other things that have happened, well, you seemed to take them in stride. Even caring for Daphne.”
He shrugged. “Living life any other way than mine makes it too hard.”
“My point exactly. So I want to know how you got where you are to see if it makes sense for me to do the same things.”
“And once I tell you my story, we go to bed?”
She took a step back. “Well, that takes us to negotiating again. Like I said, your story may not contain the elements I need to help me.”
He shook his head. “Sex is a winner-take-all proposition, Zoe. I tell you the story. We make love. Or we make love and I tell you the story. I don’t see any other way to do it.”
“Strip poker.”
As if he couldn’t contain it, a laugh burst from Cooper. “Are you kidding me?”
“Nope.” She turned her back on him and walked to the poker table. Suddenly, after six years without support or comfort from her parents and an entire year of missing a husband who really hadn’t been worth the time or the effort, she felt very, very calm. “Here’s the deal. If I win the hand, you tell me a piece of your story. If you win the hand, I take off a piece of clothing. If I’m naked before your whole story is out, we make love and you finish your story.”
But when she pivoted to grab the cards from the credenza and found he was right behind her, her calmness vanished. She always reacted when he was near, but having him so close after propositioning him brought home the reality of what she was suggesting and her breath hitched. He was tall, strong and clearly experienced. She’d been attracted to him from the beginning and if her luck didn’t hold there was a good possibility she’d be following through on that attraction. Her nerve endings jumped in anticipation.
“And if my story is finished before you’re naked?”
“Then you lose,” she said, sliding away from him, forcing herself to be confident again. Exceptional card skills gave her the advantage. If his story was an ego-driven piece of drivel that didn’t help her to understand life, she wouldn’t hesitate to tell him that. But she didn’t think it would be. He had a past every bit as demoralizing as hers and she had a feeling his story would illustrate how he’d risen above it. And she needed to hear that.
“That’s why you’re so confident. You’re sure you’re going to win.”
She grinned, took a seat across the table from where he stood and began to shuffle the cards. “The same cousins who taught me to shoot a gun taught me to play poker.”
“And where are these guys? Should I be worried that you’ll call them tomorrow morning and they’ll ride up on snowmobiles and beat the living tar out of me?”
She laughed. “No. In case you haven’t noticed, there’s no cell phone service here. So I can’t call anybody. Besides, one cousin moved to Washington, D.C.”
“Lobbying against gun control, no doubt,” Cooper said as he pulled out a chair and sat.
“The other got married. He’s busy with his family.”
Cooper tilted his head as if something struck him as odd, so Zoe wasn’t surprised when he said, “You told me your parents left you. But what about your aunts and uncles?”
“What about them?”
“Didn’t they kind of take over for your parents?”
“No.”
“No?”
She sighed. “Look, I’m not a talker when I play cards. So if you think you’re going to distract me with chitchat, forget it.”
“But you expect me to talk.”
“After you lose a hand and before we start the next hand.”
“You’re a prickly little thing about poker.” He paused, then glanced up at her. “Unless you have something to hide.”
She sighed again, disgusted that he wouldn’t take her at face value. “My aunts and uncles are busy with their own families. After my parents left I tried to integrate, but there wasn’t a whole heck of a lot of room. There are four kids in the one family, six in the other. So I remained an outsider. But that wasn’t such a bad thing. Seeing their family interactions, the closeness, gave me the example of what an ideal family is supposed to be.” She took a breath. And maybe that was another problem. Maybe she’d modeled her hopes after families that were the exception to the rule, not the rule.
“But I’ve been miserable trying to make that system work for me. If I hadn’t had that dream of creating the picture-perfect family, if I had stayed single, gone to school, or maybe looked for the right guy instead of settling for someone who dazzled me, my life would be different now.”
“But you wouldn’t have Daphne.”
She conceded that with a slight smile. “Yeah. You’re right. She’s the one good thing that came out of that marriage. But otherwise, the marriage was a huge mistake. My whole life since my parents left has been a series of wrong choices. You, on the other hand, might not be Chuckles the Clown, but you’re content. Sometimes that’s all we can hope for. That’s why I want to hear your story.”
With that, she began dealing. “Five-card stud. Nothing wild. Since there are only two of us, let’s make it a three-card draw.”
“All day? Don’t I get a chance to call the game?”
“Five-card stud is pure.”
“I still want the chance to call my game.”
“Fine. You deal next. You call the game.”
“Great.”
Cooper picked up his cards and had to work to keep his expression blank when he saw he had two aces. Grinning like a fool was not appropriate in poker. Especially not when the prize was such a good one. He’d never been given such a wonderful opportunity, and already luck was with him. He couldn’t help wondering what piece of clothing she would take off first. Her sweater seemed the obvious place to start.
His collar suddenly felt tight and his nerves began to crackle. He couldn’t believe Zoe had caved about sleeping with him, but technically she wasn’t caving. She didn’t know he was a skilled poker player, so she thought she could win. Still, he understood why she was taking this risk. She was a bundle of emotion and unless she got a poker face for life, people would always take advantage of her. Hadn’t he quickly honed in on her weakness and kept the upper hand through their entire stay? The woman needed to toughen up. And it would be his pleasure to help her.
“Draw?”
He lifted his gaze from his cards and caught hers with a steely-eyed look designed to confuse her. “Gimme all three.”
She dealt his cards and his serious look crumbled when his eyes nearly fell out of their sockets. He got another ace. Somebody up there really, really liked him. If his luck held, this game would be over in about four hands. Sweater, jeans, bra and pan
ties. His stomach clenched. Four hands seemed like an eternity.
“Since we’re not betting, show your cards,” she said.
Maintaining as solemn an expression as possible, Cooper set down three aces.
He saw her blink then draw a breath, but otherwise remain calm as she said, “Beats my two kings.”
Confidence flooded him. This would be like taking candy from a baby, and he would use her poor choice of poker when he explained his life. He never took a bet he didn’t know with absolutely certainty he could win. She’d underestimated him, or overestimated herself. In challenging him to cards, she’d set herself up to lose.
“And I think you owe me a sweater.”
“Not yet, cowboy. The first hand gets a sock.”
He gaped at her. “Socks? Three aces gets me your socks?”
“I said sock.”
His eyes widened even further and his mouth fell open. “One damned sock?”
“Well, it seems to me that you probably have a really long story. No sense rushing things.”
He studied her for a second, giving her points for keeping control. He hadn’t thought she had that in her, but since she’d thrown him into the role of her teacher, he couldn’t just let her walk all over him.
“Okay. Fine. If you’re insecure about your poker skills, we’ll play your way.”
“We’ll play my way because it’s my game. I’m not insecure,” she said and proved it by beating him the next hand.
She rested her elbow on the table and after a few seconds of studying him said, “I’d like to hear about your parents.”
“I had no say in the sock decision. You get no say in what I tell you. And what I consider to be equal to a sock is this—I have two brothers.”
“I already knew that.”
“I’d already seen your right foot.”
She sighed. “Give me the cards.”
She beat him again and this time he told her about the family construction company. When he beat her, she gave him her second sock. Her ankle bracelet came after her third loss.
“What? Are you going to give me polish chips off your toenails if you lose again?”