by Lori Foster
Did she throw herself into her work to help her forget, as he’d once done? At twenty-four, she’d run a successful landscaping business. That is, until the incident six months ago. So maybe she was just a workhorse by nature.
Admirable for someone so young.
When Phoenix disappeared from his sight, he turned back into the kitchen and went to the computer station at the end of the counter. The laptop was already open and on, an image frozen on the screen.
Phoenix stared straight ahead, battered, her glasses missing, her eyes wide and vacant with shock as paramedics tended her. A moment that personal and devastating should have never been posted, but in the social media world of today, a lot of things were online that shouldn’t be.
Coop didn’t sit and he didn’t need to read the accompanying story. He’d looked at the story so many times, he already knew it by heart. It still drew him far too often as he struggled to understand her better.
Six months ago, when Phoenix was alone at the business during a frigid day in November, two men had broken in armed with a handgun and an AR-15 style rifle. It had been such a successfully busy day selling Christmas trees and wreaths, the till was likely full.
The men had taken all her money along with some personal items—and then they’d assaulted her.
His muscles tensed as his hands fisted.
Not rape, thank God, though apparently one of them had tried as the other kept watch. Overall, they’d badly manhandled her, thrown her around, hurt and robbed her. It wasn’t until a prospective customer stopped in to see if the shop was still open that she’d finally escaped.
The men had run away and to this day, they hadn’t been caught.
Her security cameras showed the attack, but revealed only two very large men wearing ski masks.
Coop closed his eyes. For too long he’d existed in a state of numbness, functioning but unable to feel anything real.
Now he felt Phoenix’s pain and fear, and so much more. It brought back his own pain—and the rage.
But at the same time, it gave him a purpose.
He couldn’t help his wife, but he could help Phoenix.
Not easy to do when she rarely got comfortable with men.
From what he could glean off social media, she’d gone to a hotel after the attack and stayed there, surrounded by people—protected—until she’d moved to Cooper’s Charm. Her Facebook page, once filled with fun memes, silly videos, and comments from family and friends, had gone silent except for things others had posted—encouragement, words of strength and the occasional note about missing her.
Eventually, despite her brief, undoubtedly obligatory replies, the posts from others had waned, too.
At first he’d wondered about the timeline being public instead of private. But she’d admitted to being tech-challenged, and he imagined she’d had other things on her mind than social media.
As if she’d forgotten all about it, it had taken months before she’d posted on her wall again, and then she’d shared a photo of herself, making a goofy face while holding a cup of steaming coffee. The text had read: Everyone relax, I’m still here.
Hundreds of replies poured in. Phoenix Rose had many people who cared about her, yet she’d moved two hours away to the park.
It didn’t take a genius to realize she wanted to reclaim her life, and moving to his resort was the first big step. He hoped she found what she needed, but as he’d discovered, you couldn’t be alone at a crowded resort, yet you could still be lonely.
The knock at the door drew him out of his thoughts. He closed the laptop and crossed the kitchen to the door, seeing through the glass pane that Phoenix stood there.
A new sensation broke through the gloom. Damned if it didn’t feel like anticipation.
Shirtless and barefoot, dressed in only his jeans, Coop opened the door with a barely banked smile of welcome. “Good morning, Ms. Rose.”
Her startled gaze went over his body first, then locked desperately to his face. She hastily straightened her already-straight glasses. “Mr. Cochran. I’m sorry to bother you, but I have a problem.”
Maybe he should have pulled on a shirt...the hell he would. He was in his own home and if she planned to stick around, she’d have to get comfortable with him. Throughout the summer, most people dressed down, with women in halters and shorts or bikinis, and men more shirtless than not. People were in and out of the water all day, from sunup to sundown.
Maybe if he hadn’t just been thinking about her and all she’d been through, he would have handled things differently. Instead, he corrected her for the tenth time, saying, “You know, everyone else calls me Coop.” He couldn’t very well call her by her first name if she insisted on boss/employee formality. Not that there was much about the resort that anyone could label as “formal.” It was all about fun, relaxation and getting away.
She stared up at him.
“Try it,” he urged. “I promise it won’t hurt.”
2
After a few breathless seconds, Phoenix’s gaze flickered away. Ignoring his request—hell, pretending he hadn’t even said it—she explained, “The mower won’t start. I tried to find Daron, but apparently he’s off today.”
Coop stifled a growl of frustration. She needed time, not pressure, so he concentrated on the reason she’d come to see him. If he couldn’t get her to relax, he could at least be helpful.
Daron Hardy was the twenty-five-year-old handyman extraordinaire who worked for the park. He could fix anything, which made him valuable, but he was also a huge player. Coop had no doubt that Phoenix had already caught Daron’s eye.
The good thing about Daron, though, besides his skill at repairs, was that he could be trusted, and he was a gentleman at heart. Daron would never deliberately make a woman uncomfortable. He didn’t hear it very often, but he understood the word no.
Coop stepped into his kitchen, saying, “Come on in.”
“I...” She hesitated at the door, then looked behind herself as if checking for avenues of escape.
Pretending he didn’t see her uneasiness, Coop said, “I’ll have to give him a call. He stayed out last night but said he’d be back sometime this morning. Coffee?”
She glanced at the pot with the same intensity she’d given his chest. Coop wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing.
Assuming he’d convince her, he got down another mug, filled it, set it on the table and pulled out a chair—all without looking directly at Phoenix again. He reached for the phone near his laptop and dialed up Daron, then leaned back on the counter.
Cautiously, leaving the door open behind her, Phoenix entered the kitchen and eased into the chair. She wrapped both hands around the mug as if chilled, which was impossible given the warm morning. While Coop waited for Daron to answer, she sipped the hot coffee.
The phone stopped ringing.
“Shh, hang on,” Coop heard in a whisper, and then, in a normal tone, “Hello?”
It didn’t surprise Coop to hear a woman giggling in the background. Daron was an active, healthy young man. Working at the park shouldn’t hinder a social life. Daron seemed to have found the right balance.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Coop said.
“No problem, boss. ’Sup?”
Watching Phoenix, seeing how she avoided looking at him, Coop briefly explained the issue.
“Damn,” Daron said. “That thing’s been on life support for a while, but it was purring just fine after the last time I tweaked it.”
“It’s probably past time for me to—” Coop heard the woman say something else.
Daron started to shush her, ended up laughing, and said quickly into the phone, “Give me twenty minutes or so and I’ll head back.”
“You don’t have to rush.”
“See ya soon, Coop.” The call disconnected.
Easily i
magining why Daron had left so quickly, Coop looked at the phone, shook his head in amusement and then put it back on the desk.
Not bothering to hide his amusement, he sat opposite Phoenix. “He should be back in another hour...or two.”
“He didn’t say for sure?”
“He’s a little preoccupied with a date.”
“Oh.” Smiling, she looked up—then at his shoulders and chest—and quickly tucked back a tendril of hair. “I forgot about his date.”
“He told you about it?”
“Daron mentions all his dates.” She sent him a crooked grin. “He’s hilarious sometimes.”
As long as she was laughing at Daron, Coop figured he had nothing to worry about. “That’s probably not how most women describe him.”
“True.” She chuckled. “He doesn’t lack female attention, that’s for sure.”
“But you see him differently?”
She sipped her coffee. “He’s young.”
Coop lifted his brows. “He’s twenty-five, the same age as you.”
“Ah, but my sister says I’m an old soul.” She wrinkled her nose. “And that’s nicer than when she calls me a stick in the mud.”
Cooper grinned. “We can’t all be the life of the party.”
“Right? That’s what I tell her.” She traced a finger around the top rim of the mug. “I hate that I’m interrupting Daron’s plans.”
“He was due back soon anyway.” Coop studied her. Those small smiles of hers packed a hell of a wallop. “I assume it’s that ancient rider that won’t start?” They had two push mowers, too, but they weren’t for the big areas.
“Yes.”
To keep her around a little longer, he asked, “Was it acting up yesterday?”
“Pretty much always. I don’t have Daron’s talent, but I can usually get it to start with a little tinkering. This time—nothing.”
“Dead battery, maybe?”
She shook her head. “I checked that.” With a lot of concentration, she looked at him again, her gaze fixed only on his face. “Mr. Cochran—”
“Coop.”
She paused, then dutifully said, “Coop, have you considered replacing it?”
Finally hearing her say his name gave him a deep sense of satisfaction. At thirty-four, smiles, glasses and first names shouldn’t have affected him at all, but then, something about Phoenix had struck a nerve from the moment he’d seen the first article on her assault. “Every time it quits on me.”
Damn, he wanted to kiss her.
And she couldn’t even look at him.
It was an odd sensation not to recognize himself and his reactions. After a year of his life lost to a mournful rage, it had taken him a long time to regain his control, to tamp down those useless emotions. In the four years since then he’d stayed busy to keep himself in check.
Now, those volatile feelings seemed misdirected, still there, simmering deep inside, but with an entirely different motivation.
“You have?” Phoenix sat forward, an elbow on the table, enthusiasm in her eyes. “I know it’s a big expense, but a zero-turn mower would be ideal.”
Inspiration struck, and he said, “At the end of the month, we could check them out together if you want.” Before she could deny him, he added, “I’d need you to help me choose the best one for the park.”
She retreated back in her seat. “I’m sure any would do.”
True. Plus, he wasn’t so inept that he couldn’t choose a damned mower. That wasn’t the point, though. “Why have a landscaping expert around if not to get an expert opinion? We wouldn’t have to go far. There’s a dealer in Woodbine with everything from massive farm equipment to small push mowers for tiny yards.” He saw the indecision in her pale blue eyes, made larger by the lenses of her glasses. “You’re the one who will be responsible for it, so it makes sense for you to help choose it.”
“But—”
“You’d be on the clock, of course.”
Fascinated by the visible process, he watched as she debated with herself, stiffened her spine, nudged her glasses farther up the bridge of her nose and nodded.
Amused by her, and impressed with her fortitude, he asked, “Yes?”
“Okay, yes.” Her attention dipped to his body, then shot back to his face. Her eyes narrowed in concentration. “We can do that.”
Her agreement released the tension in his muscles, when he didn’t even want to admit to being tense.
He definitely shouldn’t have been tense.
“Great.” Did that mean she trusted him, at least a little? He knew he was losing his grip on his carefully tempered emotions; he’d deliberately kept himself from feeling too much, because feeling hurt had turned him into a person he didn’t recognize.
For the first time in years, it didn’t alarm him. These feelings weren’t chaotic and hard-edged. If anything, they were...soft. And enjoyable.
A twinge of disquiet went through him, but he ignored it. “I’ll go over the calendar, talk to the dealer and let you know well in advance what day we’ll go.”
“Sounds good.” She finished off her coffee and stood.
Coop stood, too—and this time her attention went all over him, even the fly of his jeans. He fought back all natural inclinations in an effort to keep the moment casual. Phoenix wasn’t a woman to rush, and he doubted the look had been an invitation. Probably more like curiosity, and he’d take what he could get. “Let me know if Daron can’t get the old mower going, okay?”
“We could get by with the push mowers for a few weeks.”
He didn’t want her to have to get by. “Let me know, Phoenix.”
As if the use of her name no longer fazed her, she nodded. “Will do.” She surprised him by carrying her cup to the sink. Once there, she noticed the photo near his closed laptop. For a long moment, she stared at it, her head slightly tilted.
He didn’t explain. He couldn’t explain.
Something softened in her expression. Without a word, she turned to go.
Relieved, Coop moved toward the door with her. Talking about his wife was always difficult and now, with those strange emotions gripping him, he didn’t dare go down that road.
“Thanks for the coffee.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll check in with you later to make sure Daron has things going. If you need anything else, let me know.”
When she stepped outside, the bright sunshine put blue highlights into her smooth ebony hair. With her eyes squinted against the glare, she stared toward the lake. “That’s your private dock?”
“Yes. The buoys mark the no-swim area for guests, making it safer for me to take my boat out to the main body of water, and for me to swim away from the resort guests.”
“I’ve seen other boats way out there.”
“People ski or go tubing. But you haven’t even swum yet, have you? You know the water’s warmed up a lot. You should take a dip.” He wouldn’t mind seeing her skinned down to a bikini.
She gave him a look bordering on horror. “Not me.”
Propping a shoulder against the door frame, he asked, “Why not you?” Was she worried that a bikini might invite male attention? He sorted through the idea, and realized that, after the assault, she wasn’t only uncomfortable around men, she actually feared a man’s attention.
A man’s touch.
The thought brought a frown. A woman like Phoenix Rose should be enjoying every aspect of life, not shying away from the physical—
“I can’t swim.” She scowled with the admission.
Not buying that for a second, he asked, “So you never swam in your grandparents’ pond?”
“The fish were bigger than me. I mean, when I was a kid.” She held her hands apart about two feet. “The carp and catfish were huge.”
He liked the image of her as a little girl a
wed by the size of a fish. “You know they’re more afraid of you than you are of them.”
“I know that now.” She took a few steps away and hesitated. With exasperation, she admitted, “I can swim.”
“Yeah?” Damn, she was cute—and obviously honest. An irresistible combo. “So why the fib?”
Would she be honest with him now? Was she afraid of intimacy?
She rolled one shoulder, then swatted the air. “Because admitting that I’m not comfortable in a crowd is lame. But then I realized that saying I couldn’t swim sounded just as lame, so...”
The admission twisted his heart, and turned his tone gruff. “I’m glad you can swim, and I understand about crowds.” Was it only crowds? He wished he had the words for more specific questions.
She actually laughed. Just for a second, then she quickly cut it off.
Coop studied her face, the way she flattened her lips to fight the grin. Really nice lips. “What’s funny?”
“If you don’t know, maybe I shouldn’t tell you.”
Teasing—that had to be a good sign. If she feared him, would she do that? He didn’t think so.
He pushed away from the door. “Come on, now. Don’t leave me guessing.”
She grinned. “Well...you realize that you hired me to work around crowds, right?”
“True.” As if lit from the inside, her eyes were beautifully bright when she laughed. “But working around them is not the same as mingling.”
“No, it’s not.” She scrunched her nose and again looked at the lake. “I could maybe swim without mingling.”
He could tell she wanted to. “It wouldn’t be easy. Between the scuba divers, the paddle boaters, the flirting adults and the splashing kids, you’d pretty much be in the thick of it.”
“Yeah, probably.” She gave a wistful sigh. “It’s not crowded early on the weekdays.”
A slow burn started through his blood, and to his surprise, he easily accepted that it was both physical...and emotional. “Would you like to swim early one morning?”