by Stacey Lynn
He dropped my hand and walked around me, sliding onto his ATV.
I stood still, processing everything he said at the same time trying to forget them. He was right and he was wrong.
The problem was, I didn’t feel guilt for wanting to kiss him. The guilt came from wanting to do it again.
* * *
Thunder rattled my windows. The storm moved in and we were now under a Severe Thunderstorm Warning. Our entire county was covered in red on the map on the television screen. A thunderstorm was about the only time I had to watch television, so that’s what I was doing.
When we returned to the barn, Cooper made quick work of putting his ATV away, hanging up his key and leaving the barn telling me he was headed to his place.
I moved to the horses and took Gray out for exercise until the occasional raindrops fell more frequently.
Darn Kansas weather. Rain hadn’t even been in the forecast earlier in the week, but we needed it, so I wasn’t complaining. The river banks along the backstretch of our main two hundred acres were running incredibly low for this time of year.
I spent the day working inside, going over statements and inputting records from the calves, and the heifers who would be giving birth in the fall. I had to keep track of every animal, and the health of all of them, in order to ensure the proper ones went to market so I could get the most money for each head.
Then I spent time cleaning, a task I avoided as much as possible. Unfortunately, my black shelving and TV stand looked gray from the dust and I couldn’t put it off any longer.
And all day, through all of it, Cooper’s words rattled in my brain so often that more than once I looked over my shoulder to see if he snuck up on me.
Nothing wrong with taking time for you.
It’s not a crime to heal.
All of it pounded against my skull like the thunder making the windows shake.
I took a sip of my wine and tried to focus on the current medical drama on the television.
Cooper had invaded my head. He was taking up residence in parts of my mind I’d reserved only for Joseph.
It made my skin itch, like a bug bite that got worse every time you scratched it.
That was Cooper…a new mosquito bite just starting to itch.
The medical drama ended, the show changed, and all of a sudden, a photo of Cooper was on my screen.
Freaking hell. I couldn’t escape him.
I reached to click off the television but the voice over on the program stopped me. “Camilla Rinaldi will be on next, giving us an exclusive peek into her life with the three-time Emmy Award Winner, discussing where she went wrong, and how she’s desperate to fix it so her husband will come home to her.”
Husband. The word slammed into my chest.
Cooper Hawke was still a married man, and I’d moved to kiss him.
“How did I become this person?” I took another sip of my drink and pushed off the couch.
More wine was necessary if I was going to torture myself by watching the insanely beautiful model dish about how much she loved the man living in my backyard.
A thud hit my back door and my steps moved quicker, my socks sliding over the tiled floor but by the time I reached my kitchen, Cooper was standing on the entry rug, the door slamming behind him.
I slid to a stop right as he shook his head like my old Blue Heeler Shepherd Mix.
“You look like a drowned rat.” I grabbed a towel flung over one of my cupboard door handles and tossed it to him.
“Thanks.” He scrubbed his face and pushed it through his hair. “It’s pouring out there.”
“Welcome to Kansas.” Turning, I refilled my glass and set it down.
My heart was beating strangely. I’d probably had too much to drink.
“Did you need something?” My knuckles ached and I looked down. I was grabbing the countertop. Why was I acting so weird? I shook out my hands as I registered a thunk followed by another.
“Yeah, electricity. Mine’s out and I couldn’t find flashlights or candles.”
“You lost electricity?” I spun and looked out the kitchen window over the sink. Outside was pitch black where I usually saw a glow from his lights. Not that I ever looked or checked on him. “How strange. That never happens.”
“It did.” His voice was muffled and I saw him bent over, refrigerator door opened. He pulled back, popped the top off a beer, and shut the door. The beer top flicked into the air, hitting his target of the garbage can and he took a large swallow.
His throat bobbed. His hair was wet. He’d taken off his jacket but the shirt under it was still wet, along with the cargo shorts he was wearing.
He was dripping water all over my kitchen floor.
“So you decided to come here and make my house wet?”
“No.” He scowled. “I came here to make sure you were okay. And to have a beer.”
He grinned. That stupid grin that reached his eyes and made them sparkle.
“I’ll go get you some dry clothes. Don’t move.”
I twisted and moved to leave the kitchen, stopping myself from thinking about what I was doing. “No offense, Becca, but I don’t think your clothes will fit me.”
He’d meant it as a joke.
Becca. One word a dagger to my heart and I pressed a hand to my chest.
I’d always been Rebecca. Always. My mother never allowed a nickname and had no problems correcting anyone, especially me when I insisted on being Becky. But Joseph, he got away with it. Only because he started saying it when he was growling it in my ear when we were making love. It’d be torn from his throat while he reached his peak, like it was too painful to say my entire name.
And it’d been beautiful. So beautiful just the mere whisper of Becca in my ear, regardless of whether we were in the fields, the kitchen…church…it didn’t matter. He whispered that word and my body went from focused on the task at hand to ready to jump in a millisecond.
Damn it.
I double-timed it to my bedroom and to my dresser.
I yanked opened the bottom drawer and fell on my ass. I hadn’t opened these drawers in months.
Joseph’s clothes. All of them. Neatly folded. Plaid pajama pants and sweatpants. Plain white T-shirts would be in the drawer above that. Socks one more drawer up. His belts were in the narrow drawer above that. Everything, exactly how it’d been.
“Shit,” I muttered. “What the hell am I doing?”
My knees hit my chest. My hands went to my head and I pressed my palms to the sides, my fingernails digging into my scalp.
“Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.”
I grabbed what I needed. I couldn’t think about this. How Cooper was right. Joseph was everywhere so much so that if I went to the bathroom, his freaking toothbrush would still be in the holder next to mine.
I hadn’t even had the courage to throw out a toothbrush and now I was gripping a pair of Joseph’s pajama pants and T-shirt in my hand, taking them to another man.
I shoved that thought into the corner and sped downstairs. It shouldn’t take me as long as it did to get him clothes. When I reached the living room, I doubted he realized I’d been gone so long.
Camilla was on the television screen, wiping tears from her eyes with a tissue.
Cooper was staring at her, his back to me, but every visible muscle in his body was tightened and popping out. One of his hands gripped the back of the couch, and the other clung to his phone.
“He gave me life, he was always there for me, supporting me, cheering me on, and I never appreciated it. I should have. And I’m taking full blame for the problems we’re having.”
If someone could sniff elegantly, Camilla pulled it off.
I was as frozen as Cooper, watching this beautiful—beyond beautiful—Brazilian woman, gush about how incredibly wonderful her husband was.
Fourteen
Cooper
“I love him, Gabe, and it’s taken this hiccup in our relationship to realize it.”
<
br /> “And how does Cooper feel?”
“I don’t know.” Camilla patted her eyes.
I tried not to puke.
She hiccupped. Goddamn, this bitch was unreal.
“He still won’t speak to me.”
“Fucking Christ,” I muttered and pulled up my contact list. The last thing I expected to hear when I was in Rebecca’s kitchen was Camilla’s voice, but like a moth to a flame, I followed it.
I should have stayed where I was in the kitchen like Rebecca told me, but no…I had to chase after her when pain slashed her face when I called her Becca.
Won’t make that mistake again.
Being around her was a minefield, and I had no idea where the bombs were buried. Until I saw Camilla blathering on the screen, pulling more of her manipulative shit, I didn’t realize why chasing after Rebecca was so damn important.
Camilla’s phony tears on the screen told me why. Rebecca would never pull a stunt like that. She wouldn’t even dream of it.
“Cooper Hawke,” Paul said, answering immediately. “Wondering when I’d hear from you.”
My lawyer’s voice held amusement. That shit would end soon.
“Camilla’s on television,” I barked. “What does she want?”
Movement next to me caught my attention.
Rebecca. Her face was pale, her dark eyes were wide and looking lost, and in her hands were clothes. “If you change, I can dry the clothes you have on.”
Paul was talking in my ear, but I wasn’t listening. “Hold on, Paul.”
I was being an ass. He was used to it. When you were an attorney for celebrity clients you were used to working with assholes and divas.
I pulled the phone away from my ear. “You okay?”
She set the clothes down on the couch. “I’ll give you privacy.”
“Rebecca,” I called to her back. Always at her back. Why did it always feel like she was walking away from me, and why did I hate seeing it so much? “You okay?”
“Yeah.” She shrugged and looked at the television where Camilla was still fucking talking. “Are you?”
“Peachy.” I went back to my phone. I’d deal with Rebecca’s pale as a statue look later. “Sorry about that Paul. What does she want?”
He chuckled. Obviously, I hadn’t heard what he first said. “According to what I’ve been hearing, she wants you, and she’s pissed she can’t find you. Or get ahold of you.”
“She can’t get ahold of me because I blocked her number weeks ago and as far as where I am, none of her damn business. But what does she really want?”
“Maybe you should come to my office and we can talk about this.”
Nothing good came from sitting in an attorney’s office with a spouse fighting a divorce. Hell if I was going there now. The media would be insane as soon as I stepped off the plane.
“Not gonna happen. Do you know what she’s looking for with this crap?”
“She says she wants her husband. I’m suspecting a settlement, even though she broke the prenup rules, would help.”
“Give it to her.” Money. I had millions. She could have it all even though she already had plenty of her own. I could make it back. “Don’t even care how much. Give it to her, make her sign the papers so I can be done with this crap.”
“You were married for five years, Cooper.” I was lucky enough to surround myself with a good team. I chose wisely, talked to actors who had bad experiences. So far, neither my agent or my lawyer had tried to screw me over. They always had my interests at heart.
Except for this time. “Yeah, and for five years, I was a blind idiot. I’m over it.”
Over her. Odd how weeks ago the thought of Camilla and my marriage sent me into a panic attack and I hadn’t had a single one since I’d been here. Even earlier today when I was talking about her, the pain that had pressed against my chest for so many months wasn’t there. It’d been replaced with anger she wouldn’t let this—or me—go.
“Just do it, Paul. Let me know what she wants. Cap it at five and give her the houses.” The beach house. The one thing I’d always said she’d never have. I wanted her gone more. Hell, she was probably pulling this crap just to get the beach house because she knew I loved it so much. Whatever. I’d buy a new one.
Done. I was done with all of it.
“That’s almost twenty million once you throw in the homes. I’m not sure that’s the best.”
“It is if she takes it and takes off.”
A weighted silence hit the phone and in front of me, Camilla was still fucking crying. I hurried around the couch, grabbed the remote and turned it off. I didn’t need to hear her beautiful voice telling me sweet lies ever again.
“Okay,” Paul finally said. “I’ll see what I can do and get back to you when I hear from her lawyer.”
“All of what I said, and she signs the papers immediately. Make sure she knows that.”
“Will do, cowboy.” I laughed. Damn Paul. Other than my parents, he and Max were the only two who knew where I was. “How’s it going there anyway?”
I had no damn idea anymore, not after last night and this morning with Rebecca. She hadn’t exactly seemed thrilled when I’d shown up tonight.
“Max was right, it’s helping.”
“Good. Good to hear it. When you coming back?”
My chest went tight. “August. Have that movie to start after Labor Day.”
“And where can I send the papers for your signature?”
Shit. I hadn’t thought of that. “I’ll figure it out and let you know. Might have to overnight them.”
“All right. I’ll deal with this, you deal with you and we’ll keep in touch, okay?”
“You got it. Thanks, Paul.”
“My job, Coop.”
Yeah, but he did it better than most.
“Right.” I pressed the End button on my phone and tossed it to the couch. Then I grabbed the clothes Rebecca had brought down for me.
Her dead husband’s clothes. I fisted them in my hand. I did not need to be wearing her husband’s pants, but a quick look showed my shorts were still soaked.
Crazy, crazy rain. Even now the thunder was still booming almost consistently. The perfect background to the storm inside of me.
I headed to the bathroom, ripped off my shirt and shorts, tugged on the new crap. The shirt was too tight, but it’d work.
I came out of the bathroom, moved past Rebecca in the kitchen where she was sitting at the small eat-in table and tossed my clothes in the dryer. Once I started it, I went back to the fridge, grabbed another beer and popped it open.
It was half gone by the time I pulled it away from my mouth and looked at Rebecca. She had an odd expression on her face, her fingers gently brushing up and down the stem of her wineglass, and a corner of her bottom lip in between her teeth.
“I take it that’s what you were talking about last night, and with Jordan this morning when he mentioned your wife?”
“Ex. Soon to be. But yeah. It wasn’t her first appearance.”
I took a chair across from her. She had plenty of space. She still pulled her wineglass toward her and straightened.
She pulled away from me.
“She said she loves you.”
I took another swallow of my beer to wash away the bile building in my throat. “She should have become an actress instead of a model. She’s damn good at it.”
“Cooper.” Her eyes lifted, sad, void brown pools peered at me. “She’s your wife and she wants to work on your marriage.”
To the outside world, that’s what they saw, because that’s how Camilla was framing it. Hell if I’d let Rebecca believe that beautifully painted mirage.
“She’s been cheating on me since before she had my ring on her finger, Rebecca.” At that confession, something no one but Max and Paul knew, Rebecca blinked. “Yeah. Didn’t know it. Swear, don’t know what was wrong with me. Maybe I was so damn in love with her I overlooked all the signs, but still, even thinking about
it, she’s so damn good, there weren’t any. I can’t think of a time she hid her phone from me, hung up when I walked into the room, anytime she was dressed in anything other than what she should be wearing to wherever she was going. We traveled a lot, both of us. But we talked, every night. Texted during the day. There wasn’t a single damn clue, even now that I can see she didn’t love me as much as I loved her.”
I took a breath, expecting that burn and tightness in my chest, the noose around my throat to tighten but it didn’t come.
“Hired a private investigator before I came out here to find out everything he could. Twelve men. In a week, that’s the amount of men he found she’d been with, one of them being the talk show host she spoke to two nights ago. That’s what Jordan saw. That’s what has everyone in a tizzy.”
“I’m sorry.” She pressed her lips together like she wanted to say more but when I gave her time, she stayed silent.
“Me too. But like I said this morning, time and space, and the knowledge of what I now know has helped. Not saying it doesn’t sting, but that might be more pride in the first place. Or maybe I didn’t love her as much as I thought I did. Maybe I just wanted to.” I shrugged to take away the sting of that revelation. “I’ve had six months to think about her, our marriage, and weeks to deal with realizing exactly how unfaithful she was. The only thing I’m sorry about right now is that I didn’t pick up on it earlier and end it then.”
The only thing I’d said earlier that morning that was a lie was not wanting to push Rebecca to turn to me. I wanted it so bad I jacked off twice earlier to calm down. I was thirty-four years old, acting more like I was twenty with the way my dick sprung up, ready for action, at the mere thought of her.
The only thing keeping the guy down now was the reminder I was in Joseph’s clothes. A man she still desperately loved and hadn’t made an effort to put in her past, since she clearly still kept his clothes.