by Stacey Lynn
A shadow fell over my lap and then Cooper was in front of me.
I froze.
He crouched down until our eyes were at the same level.
“You could have just said that. I understand not wanting to be watched and gossiped about.”
I smiled and shook my head. “It’s embarrassing, and I hate that I avoid town and my friends, but it’s hard to be on everyone’s radar, too.”
I was sick of it. But I was also sick of worrying about it. At some point, I had to get over the looks and whispers, didn’t I? And who knew, maybe Brooke had a point. Maybe becoming the recluse rancher only made things worse.
These decisions sucked. I opened my mouth to put everything I was thinking into words when Cooper said, “I can stay here.”
He would, too. He said it with all the honesty in his tone and expression, but beneath that, there was still the desire to go with me. Who could blame him? He’d been cooped up, hiding out in a thousand square foot shack without cable for weeks.
“No. We’ll go, but wear your wig. Brooke loves all things about big cities and Hollywood. She’ll recognize you in a second.”
“Will she—”
“She won’t say anything if I tell her not to. She’s bossy and loud but loving and loyal. At some point, I’ll have to tell her though.”
“Okay.” His hands went to his knees and he shoved up to standing. “It’s a date.”
My face and neck went cold, he must have seen because he cringed. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I know.”
“Sure?”
“Yup.” Goodness. I was being a fool. “It just took me by surprise is all. I know what you meant.”
“Okay.” He stepped back, the distance between us made it easier to breathe again. “Then if we’re good, I’m going to go shower the manure off me. Which”—his lips twitched—“is not something I ever thought I’d say.”
Unbidden, a short laugh burst from me. “Go,” I said, laughing. “Go and wash the shit away.”
“If only I could.” His eyes darkened and for a moment, I saw his pain. The pain of losing Camilla and I realized two things as he disappeared.
One, we were in different circumstances, but he truly did know my pain in ways other people couldn’t.
Two, no truer words could ever be spoken.
If only we really could just wash away the shit in our lives.
Maybe I couldn’t. I couldn’t erase it, but maybe I could live my life in a way that made the shit easier to manage.
Perhaps it was time.
Seven months. Seven months since my husband died and I’d trudged through my grief like a badge of honor, instead of honoring Joseph and the life I’d always thought we were building.
Perhaps it was time to do what I know he’d desperately want me to.
“I’ll try to be happy, Joseph. I promise. For you, because you’d hate me like this, wouldn’t you? Especially since some of it’s your own damn fault.” As always when I talked to him, yelled at him, cursed him, and cried for him, I couldn’t hide my anger. Or my love.
That was the problem with losing him with unsettled arguments lying between us. He was ripped away from me before I could understand any of it. Or apologize. Or forgive him. I still loved him as equally as I was still so damn angry with him.
“Fine,” I said, tears streaming down my cheeks, like he’d actually spoken back to me. I grazed my thumb over his smiling face on the picture frame from our wedding I kept on my desk. We’d been married in Kansas City, at a beautiful church, at my mom’s insistence. All I’d wanted was to get married behind the house with the land behind us and our closest friends surrounding us.
But my irritation with my mom hadn’t come close to surpassing the joy I’d felt the day I walked down the aisle to Joseph. His short brown hair, styled nicely for once, his glimmering blue eyes on mine, tears on his cheeks that rolled freely and without shame as I made my way to him on my dad’s arm.
“We’re going to make a beautiful life, you and I,” he’d said.
I’d smiled up at him through my own blurred vision. “I know.”
He’d grinned back, moving closer and whispering, “And we’re going to have a helluva lot of fun doing it too. Promise me.”
As always when it came to Joseph, there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t give him or promise him. It was time to uphold the promise, despite him not being here, or him upholding his part.
“I really miss you, damn it.” I pushed off the chair and moved out of the office.
I had a life to start living. I’d never get the answers I needed without finding the one person who held them. There was no way in hell that was ever going to happen.
Eight
Cooper
Hot water sluiced down my shoulders and my back. My hands were braced on the tiled wall in front of me, head bowed. I swiped water off my face, deep breathing to will my body to calm down.
I was a man, and despite all my rage at Camilla, I apparently wasn’t in enough pain to kill the desire flooding my veins.
Every day I spent with Rebecca was a day I grew more attracted to her. Two weeks, twelve hours a day if not more, working side-by-side made it increasingly difficult to hide that attraction.
I had never been around a woman like her. She was strong physically, doing more during the day on the ranch than I’d ever thought her capable based on her lean frame and stature alone. But it was more than her body, how lithely she moved, and how graceful she appeared while she moved cattle or strolled through the barn, or how comfortable she was on an ATV.
It was the serenity I felt being next to her and outside in the fresh air. I ended every day feeling more accomplished than I ever did on a day on set.
The cattle on this farm fed millions of people throughout the country every year. She did something meaningful, providing nutrition, and often at night when she was on the patio, in front of the fire with a glass of wine in hand, she was also perusing farming magazines, constantly learning about new approaches to farming or how to become more efficient.
The ranch and her land wasn’t just heritage, it was in her blood. It was her passion.
I had never seen a woman before so enthralled with something as simple as a hayfield as she was. I could watch her work for hours and never grow tired of it.
Working beside her was no longer about a summer away from the crap in my own life, it was growing on me.
Ridiculous. Two weeks working on a ranch and I was feeling like some homegrown cowboy.
I couldn’t deny my pull to Rebecca any longer than I could will my erection away as I stood in the shower. The damn thing had a mind of its own when it came to Rebecca, the flare of her hips, the curves of her chest, the small waist I’d had my hands on just once when she tripped over a branch. I’d caught her right before she stumbled to her knees but the searing heat from my hands on her, even through the flimsy material of her worn shirt, had stayed with me for hours until I was able to get back to my guesthouse and take care of my physical needs.
Much like I was trying to avoid doing now.
I wanted her. But there was no way in hell she was ready to get even an inkling of where my thoughts went when we were together.
I had to remember that she was someone I was helping for the summer courtesy of my damn agent.
Rebecca wasn’t the kind of woman a man used to slake his physical need. She was a woman to be treasured, cherished, and taken care of every day for the rest of her life.
That man would never be me.
But hell, if I couldn’t have her, I could at least imagine being with her. If I took care of my need now, I’d be able to hide it better later.
The last thing I needed was my attraction to her obvious while we were around her friend Brooke, the human lie detector.
Forgoing my self-control, I wrapped my hand around my length. Closing my eyes, I imagined Rebecca, even when I tried not to. She wormed her way into my fantasies and I didn’t bother kick
ing her out.
I pictured her thighs, trim and muscled, wrapped around my waist, her back pressed against the tiled wall, her hands digging into my shoulder as I moved inside of her.
I imagined all that long black hair of hers, tangled and twisted in my hand as I slammed my mouth to hers, kissing away her pleasured gasps until her heat slickened walls were clamping around me.
I held her tighter, held myself tighter, thrust into her in my fantasy at the same time I tightened the grip on my erection. I groaned out my release, slamming my hand against the tiled wall as I cursed myself for not being able to stop thinking about wanting to fuck Rebecca, and yet reveled in the way that at least in my fantasies, she was so damn beautiful.
I flipped the spray of water toward my face and turned the water to ice cold.
“Shit. I am so screwed.”
* * *
“Max, what is this?”
I bit out the question while glaring at my laptop and gripping my phone so hard in my hand it might shatter.
Good news, I found something that could finally settle my erection. I just had to think of my soon to be ex-wife.
“I told her she didn’t want to do this when I caught wind of it, but she’s determined, Cooper.”
I pressed play on my laptop again and Camilla filled the screen. She was sitting in a chair, across the desk from the late night talk show host who I used to consider a friend.
He was also someone she slept with when we were married.
He must have been a better actor than me too because he looked as though he believed the bullshit Camilla was spewing. On late night fucking television to millions of viewers.
Last night.
“This is bullshit, Max. All of it. Why is she doing this?”
“Perhaps she means it and can’t think of a better way to apologize to you?”
I slammed the computer closed and pushed off the bed. He could barely hide the snark in his voice.
“Right. And I bet this doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that her attorney has most likely reminded her, again, how ironclad our prenup is and there isn’t a chance in hell she’s getting anything she wants since we now have a list of at least a dozen men she fucked during our marriage.”
Vomit rose in my throat. A dozen men. Those were the ones my private investigator I hired before heading to Kansas had been able to uncover in two weeks.
How was I so damn clueless I never saw it? Never even suspected it?
Worse, why was I suddenly so blasé about hearing that information?
Through the phone line, Max chuckled. “I would imagine it has something to do with that. What are you thinking?”
“Camilla is a manipulative whore.”
“Ouch, Coop. I know you’re hurting here, but —”
“But nothing. Camilla has proven she’ll do anything she wants, use anyone she wants in order to get her way, and I’m done with her. She gets exactly what she brought into our marriage and nothing more, and there isn’t a single fucking thing she can do to persuade me otherwise, not even begging for my forgiveness on national television.”
Silence filled the phone line and my head. For the first time since walking into my home and seeing Camilla with another man, the thick band squeezing my chest so tightly it hurt to breathe had loosened. Her apology meant crap and giving it while sitting across from another man she had screwed proved it.
She’d do anything she could to get ahead. That was Camilla—nothing but show, and I was the fool for falling for it for so damn long.
Thank goodness no one had discovered where I was yet. Which probably partly explained her flair for the dramatic. She didn’t know where I was and the lack of attention from me had to be driving her crazy.
For a moment I considered backing out of going with Rebecca. If people in town saw that spectacle on television the other night, my face on their television so recently might make it easier to recognize me.
Screw it. I wanted that drink out somewhere with Rebecca, around other people.
“I gotta get going Max.”
“How are things there?”
Difficult and complicated because I wanted to fuck his favorite niece, nothing he could ever know.
“They’re fine.”
“And Rebecca? How is she?”
Beautiful. Admirable. Strong. There were a hundred words I could use to describe her on the tip of my tongue. None I could tell him. “She’s good, Max. And she’s working me hard, just like you wanted.”
Cattle ranching was no joke even if I was starting to enjoy it, but I needed a night off, a night away from being either alone, or alone with Rebecca.
“Good.” I could practically see him smiling through his contented tone. “That’s good. I’m glad you could be there to help her. She’s stubborn, that girl. Take care of her, okay? And yourself.”
“Will do. You’ll get word to my attorney for me then?”
“Anything, Cooper. I’d do anything for you.”
That loosened band around my chest warmed and relaxed further. Max was always a good man. A cutthroat agent, demanding, and successful and he’d ruin anyone who crossed him, but deep down, he was as good as they came.
“Thanks, Max. Have a good night.”
I tossed my phone onto the bed after we disconnected and shoved thoughts of Camila’s latest tactics to the back corner of my mind reserved for politics, which I used slightly more often than talking about the weather.
I finished getting dressed and was at Rebecca's front door at six-thirty, needing that drink at the bar and a night out more than I had ever needed one in my life.
Nine
Rebecca
My stomach churned and in my throat, I tasted a knot of unease that made swallowing difficult. Despite my earlier summoned desire to start living again, that fled as soon as I opened the door for Cooper.
He was wearing jeans and a navy blue T-shirt that fit him so well they could have been painted on him. I scarcely had the time to take in the sandy blond wig he was wearing under his blue KU hat before I forced myself to look away from him.
Even the ridiculous wig made him look good and it wasn’t the first time I noticed he was attractive, it was just the first time I had difficulty forgetting it.
“Hey,” I practically croaked. “Ready?”
His gaze dipped down the length of my body and quickly lifted. A trail of heat flickered down my spine at his quick perusal.
My hands shook as I grabbed my keys from my purse.
He cleared his throat. “I am. You okay?”
There was no honest answer I could give him.
No. I didn’t think I was okay in the slightest and only part of the butterflies swarming my stomach had anything to do with what I was about to face once we stepped into The Tavern.
I barely remembered the drive into town, the tunes from the country station filtering through the radio, and the lights of the street giving me a path I could drive with my eyes closed.
Nope. I was swarmed with the strange, hot sensation of Cooper next to me in my truck. His tanned, strong hands thumping to the beat of the songs on his thigh that occasionally bounced up and down. His cologne or aftershave or whatever he used smelled so good I continued fighting against taking a deep inhale just to soak that scent into my veins.
None of it felt right in the least, so by the time I managed to throw the gear shift into park after I pulled into a parking spot, I was one-half second away from throwing it back into reverse and peeling out of there.
One second, my hands were wrapped around the keys still in the ignition, and the next moment, a blast of heat covered my hand, twisted it and pulled it back.
The heat evaporated, my hand fell lamely to my lap, and my head twisted. “What was that for?”
Cooper dangled the keys in the air and flipped them into his fist. “Go. I’ll come back and get you later, but you’re obviously uncomfortable with walking into that bar with me and I’m not going to press it anymore.�
�
Oh, damn. That was nice of him. “That’s not what I was thinking.” Not fully anyway.
“Then what is it? And don’t say nothing,” he said when I opened my mouth to speak. “You’ve barely said three words to me since I stopped by your place and those were mostly mumbles. Talk to me.”
“Everyone will look at us, and I’m not lying when I say everyone, and part of that problem is that Joseph was really loved in this town, and my family…well, not everyone liked my family, Mom in particular. And since they passed, there’s been a lot of people who want my land to become their land.” It was the most I could give him, and yet it was only half-truth, but I still wasn’t lying. The Jeffersons had been after my land, trying to get me to sell it to them since Mom and Dad died, but they’d been forceful since Joseph. They were causing headaches I didn’t have the headspace for, and I knew without one single shred of doubt, that Gavin Jefferson would be inside The Tavern, huddled around a pool table, thinking he owned everything in Carlton like he’d been doing since he was old enough to be in that bar.
We had two hundred acres. They had three, and they wanted three to become five by taking my land and my ranch. I more than suspected some of the issues I had this year came from them.
I hadn’t even thought of most of that until I pulled in and caught a glimpse of Gavin’s Dodge Ram, mostly because I’d been so consumed with ignoring how good it felt to be heading into town with Cooper.
I shook my head, tried forcing out all my thoughts of Cooper and turned to him. In the dark of the truck, the only light came in through the parking lot lights shining through my windshield, his eyes were mostly shaded over, hidden by the bill of his hat.
“Plus there’s everything I gave you earlier, about the gossip. I just have a lot on my mind, Cooper.” And no one to unload it on who’d be able to do anything about it.
“Okay. So, we go in there, you get as drunk as you need to so you can get through this. You and I hang out with Brooke, you tell her whatever you need to about me. I trust you to do whatever you think is best with that. I’ll drive you home, and then later,” he leaned in, and good gracious he smelled good. Minty, clean, that waft of delicious spice from his cologne or body wash, and I almost missed what he said next because his voice was quiet and my brain was clouded. “Tomorrow, you’ll tell me everything about how there’s even a chance you’re going to lose your land, and we’ll figure it out.”