by JoAnn Ross
Beneath her expertly applied blush, Mitzi paled every so slightly. “Sales commission?”
“Seeing as how the entire town’s willing to help Rachel salvage her restaurant, I figured you’d want to cut your commission in order to give her a bit more operating capital,” Cooper said. “If you lower your commission, Johnny would probably be happy to pass the extra savings on to Rachel.”
“Him being so eager to move to Bakersfield and all,” Dan tacked on.
Mitzi chewed on her bottom lip. Rachel could practically see the wheels turning inside the real-estate woman’s blond head.
“I suppose I could live with four percent,” she said finally.
Two percent less than the six Rachel knew Johnny had agreed to pay. The additional money could buy new dishes. Rachel gave Cooper an appreciative smile, only to discover he wasn’t finished.
“Now, sweetheart,” he drawled with a coaxing smile, “everyone in town knows that you expected to be sitting on that listing until Modoc Mountain crumbles to dust. Even at three percent, you’d still come out smelling like a rose.”
“Why don’t I just donate my entire commission?” Mitzi suggested dryly.
“That’d be real hospitable of you,” Cooper said agreeably. “And I know Rachel would appreciate it. Wouldn’t you?”
Entranced by the masculine power of Cooper’s smile, Rachel took a moment to answer. “Of course I would, but—”
“Then it’s settled.” The satisfied look on his handsome face suggested he’d never expected any other outcome.
Rachel still couldn’t entirely believe what had just happened. “Surely you didn’t mean that? About donating your entire commission?”
Mitzi shrugged her cashmere-clad shoulders. “Shoot, honey, we’re in the last quarter of what’s been a pretty good year for me. If I make any more money, I’ll just have to give a bunch more to the tax man.”
It was too much. Rachel blinked hard, hoping that she could keep from embarrassing herself by breaking into tears.
“I’ve heard about Western hospitality,” she said, forcing her words past the lump in her throat. “But don’t you think you’re taking this a bit too far?”
“Not at all,” Dan said. “River’s Bend is a family town, Rachel. Always has been. We all know one other, and more importantly, we care, whether we’re dancing at our weddings or mourning our dead. We also understand that some people might consider that old-fashioned. Even boring.” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “But that’s just the way we are.”
Rachel didn’t consider such behavior at all boring. Old-fashioned, perhaps. But nice. However, she knew that many small towns tended to be standoffish with outsiders and wondered if Dan Murphy might be taking too much for granted.
“I think it’s a wonderful way to live,” she said. “But don’t forget, I’m new here.”
“We don’t force anyone to live in River’s Bend, Rachel,” Cooper said quietly. “People move here because they like what the town has to offer. If you choose to stay, you’ll be one of us.”
She still couldn’t quite believe it could be that simple. “But—”
“One of these days you’ll come to understand,” Cooper’s grandfather interjected with a reassuring smile. “But for now, why don’t you just relax and enjoy dessert? Betty’s chocolate truffle hazelnut cake is famous in River County. You could do worse than serve it at your new restaurant.”
Her restaurant.
It was a dream come true. All right, maybe right now her dream was a little sooty and in need of some major renovation. But when the New Chance Café reopened with its inviting new look, she’d be in business.
“Thank you,” she said with heartfelt appreciation. “Thank you all so much.”
“Does that mean we’re staying?” Scott asked.
Rachel turned toward her son, who looked as if he were holding his breath. “Yes. We’re staying.”
The heavy oak chair clattered to the floor as he jumped to his feet and threw his arms around Rachel’s neck. “Everything’s going to turn out great, Mom,” he promised. “Just you wait and see.”
Returning her son’s enthusiastic hug, Rachel felt Cooper watching her. Looking up, her wary gaze collided with his.
“We’d better get going,” she said as his slow, sexy smile sent unruly hormones ricocheting around like pinballs inside her. “We’re enrolling Scott in school tomorrow. He should be getting to bed.”
“But Mom,” Scott started to complain.
“I’m not hearing a word of argument, young man,” Rachel cut him off firmly. Then she turned back to the Murphys and Mitzi. “Thank you for the delicious meal and all your help.”
“It was our pleasure,” Dan said.
“Sure was,” Mitzi agreed. “It’ll be nice having a new girlfriend to go shopping with.” A sudden thought lit up her eyes. “In fact, if you want, we can drive up to Eugene, and I can introduce you to another friend of mine. Pam’s a decorator. You’d love her work.”
“I think it’s going to be some time before I can afford a decorator.”
“I understand that, honey. But I was thinking more about using her professional discount to buy some material to recover those tacky booths. And maybe a few western rugs for the floor.”
“I’d appreciate that.” Rachel said with a smile. Things were getting better and better, proving that despite the fire and the rooftop cow, she’d made the right decision. She turned back to her son. “Come on, Scott. You’ve had a busy day and it’s getting late.”
“It’s only eight o’clock,” he pointed out. “And I’m not tired.”
It was also eleven o’clock eastern time, which he was accustomed to, but Rachel didn’t want to get into a drawn-out discussion about time zone changes. “You have school tomorrow.”
“I had school in Connecticut, too. And my bedtime was nine o’clock.”
“Let’s get going, Scott.” Cooper rose from his chair. “If you like, you can talk on the police radio on the way home.”
Disbelief and hope warred on Scott’s freckled face. Hope finally won out. “Really?”
Cooper picked up his hat from the sideboard and plunked it down onto the auburn curls Scott had inherited from his father. “Really.”
The brim of the Stetson practically covered her son’s eyes. He pushed it back to look up at Cooper with undisguised adoration. “Wow!”
“There is one important police rule.”
“What rule?”
“You’re not allowed to cuss. It’s against regulations.”
“I never cuss,” Scott said, not quite truthfully. Rachel had overheard him practicing swearing with Jimmy last month.
“I didn’t either, at your age,” Cooper lied with a laugh. Draping his arm over Scott’s shoulder, he led him toward the front door, leaving Rachel to follow.
8
During the ride back to her rental house, Rachel was happy to sit in the back seat of the Jeep and watch her son, who was riding shotgun, practically burst with importance as he called their destination into the deputy manning the base unit at the sheriff’s office.
When Cal Potter didn’t seem the least bit surprised to hear the voice of a nine-year-old coming over the police airwaves, she wondered if everyone in town knew that Cooper had driven her out to his father’s ranch this evening and decided that they probably did.
“I suppose Scott and I have been the topic of a great deal of speculation,” she said softly, not wanting to wake her son, who’d finally crashed and fallen asleep.
Cooper shrugged. “It’s all been good, if you’re worried.”
“I wasn’t exactly worried. Not really. It’s just that . . .”
Rachel’s voice trailed off. She’d driven down from Portland this morning, had been faced with the devastation at the New Chance, unpacked, cleaned up the house, went out to dinner, when she would have rather called out for Chinese or a pizza, which was impossible in River’s Bend, then negotiated a real-estate deal. All in one very
long day. As exhaustion came crashing down on her, she couldn’t come up with the words to explain her feelings.
“You’re sick and tired of people speculating about your life,” Cooper said quietly. “About whether you’re not grieving long enough, or too long, or whether this idea of starting your own restaurant is a reasonable, thought-out decision, or merely an overreaction to your situation.
“And you’re especially fed up with everyone handing out advice and blithe platitudes, as if they were something that could ease your pain.”
The depth of empathy surprised Rachel. Their eyes met in the rearview mirror, and in the muted glow of the dashboard lights, she could see both compassion and understanding in his gaze.
“I suppose, as sheriff, you’ve witnessed more than your share of pain.”
“Too much.” He returned his attention to the road. “But the observation came from personal experience, Rachel. Not professional.”
She was curious, in spite of herself.
“My wife died,” he answered her unspoken question.
The night sky was lush black velvet, studded with diamond bright stars extending as far as the eye could see. They could have been the only two people in the world. And in the dark, swirling quiet, Rachel was sorry she’d brought the subject up.
It was too personal.
Too intimate.
“I’m sorry.” Speaking of blithe platitudes . . .
Rachel regretted her words the moment they’d left her lips. It was the same thing people said to her when they learned of Alan’s death. Although well meant, the phrase sounded as empty to her now as it had eighteen months ago.
As if able to read her mind, Cooper sent her a reassuring smile in the rearview mirror. “So was I.”
Rachel wanted to ask how long ago his wife had died. And how. She would have been young; it must have been an accident. Or worse yet, some painful, lingering disease.
At least Alan’s death had been mercifully quick.
She wondered how Cooper had gone about putting his life back together. How he’d overcome the guilt and anger at being the one left behind.
Rachel wanted to know all these things, but she refrained from asking, knowing that it was none of her business.
“It gets better,” he said into the darkness.
She managed a slight, answering smile. “I know.”
Cooper nodded. “I figured you did.”
That was all either one of them said until he pulled up in front of her bungalow. Scott was sprawled on the front seat, the smile on his lips suggesting that he was reliving his moments as River’s Bend’s assistant deputy sheriff.
“I’ll carry him in for you,” Cooper offered.
“Thanks, but you don’t have to bother. I can do it.”
“It’s no bother,” he insisted quietly. Firmly. Without giving her time to argue, he got out of the Jeep, went around to the passenger door, unfastened Scott’s seatbelt, and scooped the sleeping boy into his arms.
Rachel wondered if the man’s refusal to hear a word of dissent was a result of his occupation or something in his nature. Whichever, while he seemed well meaning, he was going to have to learn that he couldn’t run her life the way he appeared to run River’s Bend.
Working like a maniac on speed, she’d already unpacked what few items she’d brought with her. The small house was neat and tidy. The newly washed floor gleamed and lush green plants she’d carefully babied all the way from Connecticut bloomed vigorously atop gleaming tabletops. The air smelled of lemons from the furniture polish.
“You’ve gotten a lot done.”
“I didn’t want Scott living out of boxes any longer than necessary. Children need a great deal of stability, though heaven knows the poor kid hasn’t had a lot lately.”
Realizing that she was in danger of sounding sorry for herself, she blew out a breath. “His bedroom is right down this hall,” she said. “It’s the second door on the right.”
9
Cooper understood Rachel’s need for maintaining control. He’d been there, done that, and had kept the T-shirt when he’d accepted the job of sheriff.
The way she’d managed the real estate discussion, along with her brisk manner as she’d pointed out the way to the bedroom, would have left Cooper wondering if he’d imagined that brief softness she’d demonstrated on the drive back from the ranch, had the lingering sadness in her voice not given her away.
He followed her down the hall. She was dressed more formally than the local style, in a rose-colored sweater, a dark gray skirt that fell to mid-calf, and a pair of pewter-gray boots with mid-high heels that contributed to a sexy sway in her walk.
She led him into what was definitely a boy’s room. Posters of sports superstars covered the walls. Action figures filled two blue painted shelves beside the window and in contrast to the tidiness of what he’d seen in the front room, comic books describing the exploits of invincible superheroes were already strewn over the floor.
Scott remained dead to the world as Rachel whipped the Spiderman bedspread away, permitting Cooper to lay the boy down on the mattress.
He stood back in the doorway and watched as she helped her son, who’d roused slightly, out of his jeans and sweatshirt into a pair of pajamas bearing the names and logos of various sports teams, then walked him into the bathroom to brush his teeth.
Motherhood suited her. She was soft and incredibly gentle, but from what he’d witnessed thus far, the lady was definitely no pushover.
Rachel Hathaway was, to borrow from his grandfather Murphy’s vernacular, one plucky lady. And Scott was a very fortunate little boy.
“I’d offer you a cup of coffee,” she said, once they returned to the living room. “But I’m afraid that’s something else I forgot to buy when I went to the market this afternoon.”
“That’s okay. I should be going. You look as if you could use a good night’s sleep.”
She lifted a hand to her hair. No longer tied back with this morning’s clip, it fell in a sleek dark curtain that skimmed her shoulders. “That bad, huh?” The fleeting glimpse of vulnerability in her eyes tugged at something inside Cooper.
“Not at all.” He smiled, restraining the impulse to touch her face to find out if that fair flesh covering her high cheekbones was as soft as it looked. “Actually, I’ve been wanting to tell you all evening how lovely you looked, but I was afraid you’d get spooked and bolt.”
With apparent calm, Rachel met his gaze. “I’m not that easily spooked.”
“I’ve already figured that much out.” They were face-to-face, their bodies close. “So, how about if I tell you that you smell terrific?”
“Since that body lotion is the single remaining indulgence I allow myself these days, I’d say thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” When the urge to touch became irresistible, Cooper jammed his hands into his front pockets to keep them out of trouble. “You know,” he said, looking around the room, “from all the work you’ve put into the place already, it’s obvious that you’d decided to stay in River’s Bend before I picked you and Scott up this evening.”
“It wasn’t as if I had many other options.”
“Nevertheless, now that I know you intended all along to stay, I’m doubly impressed with how you handled Mitzi. Inside her cotton candy exterior dwells the predatory instincts of an old-time robber baron. You must be a natural-born businesswoman, to be able to bluff as well as you did.”
“Hardly.” Her tone was dry. “When it comes to business, eighteen months ago I was a mere babe in the woods.”
Eighteen months was a long time, but Cooper knew that time was relative when it came to grief. When she’d first asked about his marriage, he’d waited for the pain and had been relieved when it hadn’t come. He’d thought himself over Ellen’s death, as much as anyone could be, but there was something about the widow Hathaway, something about the feelings she inspired that had him uncharacteristically unsure of anything.
“Sounds
as if fate provided you with a crash course,” he said.
“That’s one way of putting it.”
“Well, you obviously passed with flying colors.” The mantle clock chimed, reminding Cooper that Rachel had already had a very long and difficult day. “I’d better get going,” he said. “Hummer, he’s my dog, starts eating the couch if I leave him alone too long.”
He stopped and turned toward her as she walked him to the door. “Oh, by the way, Rachel, in case you’re concerned about the success of your restaurant, you can stop worrying. It’s going to be a smash.”
“Says the man who hasn’t tasted anything I’ve cooked.”
“Don’t have to. After having watched you in action since you hit town this morning, I’ve figured out that you don’t do anything halfway.”
It was her hesitant, but enticing, smile that did it. Unable to resist any longer, he ran a finger along her jaw. It was just as he’d expected . . . ivory satin.
“I’m glad you’ve decided to stay, Rachel.”
“I’m glad, too,” she said even as she backed away and put a little distance between them. “Thank you for all your help.”
Cooper saw the emotions swirling in eyes that bore soft shadows of fatigue beneath them. There was desire, unwilling though it might be. And an unmistakable wariness that told him if he moved too fast he’d only end up chasing her away.
“No problem,” he said with a careless shrug. “After all, it’s—”
“Part of the job.”
She sounded disappointed. Not wanting her to think he was laughing at her, Cooper held back the smile her regretful tone encouraged. It would take time. And patience. But eventually, he’d win her over.
“Not at all,” he corrected amiably. “Actually, in your case, Rachel, it was definitely one of the perks.”
He said good night, then left the house, strolling unhurriedly out to the Jeep. Although she’d closed the door, he could see her, standing in the window, still watching as he pulled away from the curb.
Once he’d turned the corner, Cooper realized, that for the first time since he’d headed up the search party that had found Ellen’s body, he could remember how it felt to be truly alive.