by Stacey Lynn
How did I find myself in these damn situations?
For not the first time, more like the tenth, I considered leaving. Going home. Getting shit taken care of with Camilla and put that in my rear view, put my head down, and get back to work.
The only thing keeping me here was the woman sitting across of me who didn’t want to be mine.
I rubbed my forehead and pushed off from the table draining the rest of my beer before I tossed it in the recycling bin next to the garbage.
“I should go. Get some sleep.”
“You can stay here.” I turned back to Rebecca as she continued. “It’s still raining, you don’t have electricity. Your clothes aren’t dry.”
“Rebecca—” I didn’t know what to say. The struggle to have me there was written all over her pale skin and trembling chin.
“I have several guest rooms. The couches. It’s fine.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.” She stood, drank the last of her wine and set it on the counter. “Come on, if you’re tired, I’ll show you upstairs.”
“Couch is fine.” No way in hell was I walking upstairs with her. She was being polite, but the mere thought of beds and her and I and…nope. I was good right where I was.
“You sure?”
I grinned as she repeated my earlier question. “Yeah, and thanks. I didn’t really want to head back outside.”
“It’ll be raining for hours yet. Fields will be a disaster tomorrow and with all the lightning, we’ll definitely need to spend some time checking all the cattle, especially the calves. Plus, there might be fences to fix, downed trees.”
As she rattled off a list I knew was more of her making a mental to-do, my grin widened.
She wanted me there but was uncomfortable with it. She wanted to kiss me, but was uncomfortable with that, too.
But, what I was getting from her? She wanted it. And fuck it. I did too. I moved toward her with purpose, not stopping until I was directly in front of her. My hand went to her cheek and she shut her mouth.
“We’ll figure it out in the morning. No sense in getting worked up tonight. Will the animals be safe?”
She was soft. So, so much softer than I’d imagined. Her eyes flickered and her dark, surprised eyes met mine.
She didn’t pull away though. Good sign.
“Cattle will protect themselves. All the others will be fine unless lightning strikes.”
“Okay. Tomorrow, we’ll take care of everything okay?”
“Okay, Cooper.”
“You’ve had a hard day. You going to be able to sleep tonight?”
Her lips twitched. “Probably as much as I normally do. I’ll be fine.”
“Fine. My mom always said that’s what women say when they’re anything but fine.”
A soft puff of air escaped her lips, hitting the edge of my palm. Hot. Sweet. Damn, she was cute. “I’m as good as I can be.”
I wanted to make her better.
And screw it. What was the worst that could happen? I move back to L.A. sooner than I wanted to?
Until then, I had nothing but time on my hands to get her to see things my way.
“Good.” My thumb brushed over her cheek.
Her lips parted and eyelids flickered again. A beautiful pink bloom rose on her cheeks and I dropped my hand, stepped away.
Small steps forward would hopefully prevent giant leaps backward.
“Have any blankets for me?”
It took her a minute to respond. “Yeah. I’ll get them.”
She left the room. I took the time to clean up the kitchen, not much besides one of my beer bottles, her wine, and wineglass. The entire house was spotless, cleaner than usual.
“I have blankets. And I found a new toothbrush for you.”
I hadn’t heard her return and she didn’t walk into the kitchen. She stayed in the doorway between the living room and kitchen, holding a pile of blankets so large I wouldn’t need them all even if it hit below zero. On top, a yellow toothbrush still in its packaging.
She made no move to set them down.
I went to her again. I’d do it over and over again.
“Thank you,” I whispered, and reached to take the pile from her arms.
They stayed where they were long after I’d taken the blankets from her before falling to her sides.
She stared up at me, brown eyes no longer void but filled with everything beautiful and hopeful. The pink on her cheeks had darkened.
Before she gathered her wits and got out of there, I bent down, letting my intention be known, and pressed my lips to her temple. “Thank you, Rebecca. Sleep well.”
Fifteen
Rebecca
Sleep well. Sleep well.
I punched my pillow again and flipped to my other side.
Sleep well. Yeah right. It was the kiss of death when he said that.
Like I could sleep when Cooper was downstairs, spread out all over my couch. I could still feel his lips at my temple. The brush of his thumb over my cheek.
I could still see the heat in his eyes he didn’t bother trying to hide when he leaned in close to me. I saw it coming from a mile away and I still stood there. Let him press his lips to me, and I inhaled the scent of him, the heat of his body so close to mine and still touching me.
And I liked it.
Nothing wrong with trying to find happiness.
Brooke’s message assaulted my brain, mixed with Cooper’s voice telling me practically the same thing.
Earlier conversations I’d had with Brooke and Kelly, another friend, Jordan’s best friend’s wife who’d been at The Tavern the other night, too. One I was surprised hadn’t contacted me yet.
But, both of them had told me the same thing one night, drunk at my house, crying over Joseph and the despair at the mere thought of ever having another man touch me.
Both of them, the traitors, had saucily said, “Get it over with. Sleep with someone when you’re ready, when you want it. Take it for you, who cares about them.”
It was rotten advice.
I wanted to follow it.
Freaking Max and Cooper. And Brooke and Kelly and their perfect happy marriages with children and living everything I had and still so desperately wanted to have back.
It wasn’t possible though, and like Jordan said earlier, I really needed to begin dealing with it.
I knew exactly where to begin.
Shoving off my sheets, I grabbed the lavender robe I always dropped on the floor next to my bed.
Unable to bear it another moment and before I lost my nerve, I stomped to the closet and flung the door open. It slammed against the wall and bounced back toward me. I tossed my hand out, stopping the door before it smacked my shoulder.
We had a small walk-in closet. Clothes were crookedly jammed onto hangers. Shoes were piled and kicked into buckets at the bottom, toppling over — mostly on my side.
Sweaters and sweatshirts and jeans were stacked on shelves so haphazardly that if I pulled the wrong one without having a grip on the right one, the entire tower came tumbling down.
Cooper was right, damn it. I’d known that. I’d just been avoiding it.
Tonight, I wasn’t.
Living in this house with every single freaking inch of it reminding me of Joseph wasn’t helping me a single little bit.
Before I changed my mind, I grabbed a stack of his sweatshirts and flung them all to the floor of my bedroom. I grabbed another pile, and another pile.
With every toss of his clothes I heaved over my shoulder, my cheeks grew wetter and my arms more tired. I didn’t stop.
I cleaned out every damn inch of his side of the closet, swooping down to pick up two shirts from the pile that snagged my attention. His favorite Iowa State Sweatshirt and a Cyclones Football long sleeve shirt he’d worn to every home game he’d attended.
I slept in his shirt sometimes and over the winter I practically lived in his sweatshirt. Unable to let them go, I shoved my face into them, inhali
ng. They no longer smelled like him.
They were clothes. He was gone.
A sob ripped from my throat and I tossed them into the growing pile and turned back to the closet.
I grabbed armfuls of his clothes on hangers and turned, tossing them out.
And then I went after his shoes.
I threw them all out of the closet. One at a time.
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. They hit my bedroom floor as I flung them over my shoulder.
Screw it. I squatted down and grabbed the last remaining bucket, picking it up to throw it out.
I turned to flip it out into the bedroom and screamed.
“What the hell!?” I shouted.
The bucket fell out of my arms and hit the floor.
Cooper stood just outside the doorway. His hands were held out in the air, and his gaze dipped from me to the floor at my feet, to the way too massive pile of clothing at his feet.
In my bedroom.
My bedroom.
“What are you doing here?” I wrapped the robe around my waist, tightened the knot.
Goddamn it! He wasn’t supposed to see this.
“Couldn’t sleep?”
That was what he asked. The urge to scream at him, to unleash holy terror for putting the idea into my head and making me feel, clawed at my throat. “No. Why are you in my room?”
“Because I couldn’t sleep on the couch thinking of you and then I started hearing all this racket like the ceiling was going to cave in on my head and thought I should come check on you.”
My brain must have malfunctioned. I must have skipped some words, rearranged them in the wrong order. He didn’t say what it sounded like.
“What?”
He pinned me with a look. It stole the breath from my lungs. “You heard me.”
Shit.
“Yeah, shit.”
I slammed my mouth closed. If words were slipping out, when I didn’t mean them to, it was best to be quiet.
“Come out of the closet, Rebecca.”
He held out his hand. I ignored it.
I couldn’t breathe or move or focus.
He was standing outside my closet, and he was naked.
Not naked, naked. Mostly naked. He’d taken off the pants and shirt I’d given him and all he had on was a pair of black boxer briefs.
Skin-tight boxer briefs.
That showed every outline of him. And there was a lot of him to see.
My eyes darted to the side of the closet I’d swiped clean. Tomorrow, I’d bleach my eyes to erase that visual.
“Rebecca.”
“I’m fine here.”
He laughed low and slow, beautiful and over too quickly. I was not moving.
“You don’t come out, I’m coming in there to get you.”
No way in hell was he touching me. Not dressed like that.
I stepped over the bucket of shoes at my feet and stepped into the room. He moved back, giving me space and crossed his arms over his chest.
It hid nothing. I couldn’t find a place to focus on.
I was losing my mind. It had to be sleep deprivation. I looked to my bed and ruffled covers which made me think of…
Nope. Not going there. I stared at the wall. It was cream and void of any decorations or photos. It was safe.
Finally, I breathed. He stood there, watching me, I felt it like I felt my skin crawling from his inspection.
“Want to talk about this?” he asked.
Nope. I didn’t. I didn’t want to say a single word to Cooper Hawke. The man in underwear in my bedroom.
I crossed my arms over my stomach. Uncrossed them. “No.” My hands went to my hair and I untangled my hair tie, shoving my hands back into my hair and re-fixing the messy knot. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I might be able to help, you know. It’s not like I haven’t stood in a closet, wanting to do the exact same thing you’ve just done.”
“You can’t help me.”
He stepped closer. I shuffled back. He moved again. I retreated. He was getting closer when he needed to move back.
“Cooper,” I said, “Please. I need to be alone.”
“I thought we were friends.”
“What?” My gaze jumped to him, fell. Tight, tanned skin and black boxer briefs. A trail of hair from his bellybutton that disappeared beneath those briefs burned into my retinas. I squeezed my eyes closed. A futile attempt to erase that pretty, pretty sight.
“I thought we were friends,” he repeated.
I forced my eyes open and choked out, “We are.”
His full lips quirked into a grin. I knew that look. He had it downstairs. I did not like that look. Not one little bit. “Friends help each other, don’t they?”
“Friends respect what the other person wants and needs.”
I scooted away from him again and bumped into the wall next to my closet.
He took one more step toward me. Slowly. Like he’d done downstairs, allowing me time to move away, allowing me time to see his intention. My head screamed to move out of the way while my body shouted stay right where you are.
My body sucked.
He was in front of me, not touching me. Far enough away where he was in no danger of touching me.
I still wanted him to touch me.
His hand raised and he settled it on the wall above my shoulder. And I could smell him.
“Cooper. Why are you here?”
He didn’t even blink. “Because I want to help you.”
“You can’t.”
“I can try.”
I shook my head. Words failed me.
He didn’t seem to notice. “I know you’re scared. I bet I even know why you’re scared, but I’m going to lay this out there for you. I like you, Rebecca. I like being around you. I even like working next to you all day. You’re funny and sassy when you forget to be sad. Your eyes and your smile show your love for what you do. I like that you’re smart and you’re determined to keep this land when it might just be easier to pick up and move on and do something easier. I like everything I’ve seen and learned about you since the moment I arrived.”
“Cooper—”
“I also know you’re terrified, and maybe not ready. I’ll be your friend. I could be a really good friend to you. I don’t know if there’s anything more than that to find, not with our lives, but that doesn’t mean I can’t still help you. I want that.”
“I don’t think—”
“Not asking you to think. I’m asking you to consider it. You wanted to kiss me the other night. I want to kiss you now. You can say no. I’ll respect that. I’ll wait until you’re ready if it’s not tonight, but don’t for one second think I won’t be waiting until you are.”
Was that my heart pounding or was that the thunder outside? It was hard to tell. My stomach flipped. An area that had gone unused at the tops of my thighs was pulsing. Hot. Heavy. My knees were knocking together and he was standing so close to me, eyes on me, appearing like he didn’t see the effect his words had on me at all.
“I don’t usually kiss my friends.” It was the lamest excuse I had.
He leaned in, his nose almost brushing against mine. “The kind of friends we’re going to be will.”
“I don’t have a choice?” My throat tightened and I reached up to rub it.
“Always. Choice is always yours. Like right now, you can tell me no.”
My eyes burned. My throat was clogged. I couldn’t kiss him when I could barely breathe. Darn him and his handsomeness and his body. It felt so damn good to have a man looking at me like this, as much as I didn’t want the attention.
His lips brushed against my cheek, back to my ear. The small puff of breath against that area made me shiver. My hands went to his hips and I yanked them back off quickly, flattening them against the wall behind me. God. What was wrong with me?
“You can touch me,” he whispered, and another full body shiver rolled down my spine. “Or you can tell me no. Whatever you want, Rebec
ca.”
He wasn’t even touching me, yet he consumed me. I closed my eyes, tried to ignore the maelstrom of emotions flooding my body. Sadness. Terror. Desire.
His lips brushed over my cheek again, trailing a path of warm deliciousness toward my mouth. He was right there.
It was time to tell him no.
I opened my mouth to say it. I swear I did.
Instead, I whispered, “Please.”
Sixteen
Cooper
Thank Christ. There was something sexy as hell seeing her dressed in that robe and the quick peek of her tight, tiny shorts and tank top I’d glimpsed before she tightened it, that had fired up my decision to pursue this…whatever it was…but she was feeling it too.
With my lips at the corner of her mouth, as soon as she breathed out ‘please’ so needy, so quiet, so damn cute, I brushed my lips over hers. One small taste.
It was all I wanted. It was all she was even minutely ready for and as I paused, my lips right against hers, gave her time to pull back or push me off, she did the exact opposite and gave a sharp inhale and lifted her chin.
Easier access. I took it.
I brushed my mouth over hers again, slowly, teasing her. I might only get one chance to taste her and I needed to prolong it as much as possible. Move slow. She tasted so good. She smelled even better and even though I wasn’t touching her anywhere except where my lips brushed against her oh so soft ones, heat emanated from her skin.
Her body trembled.
“Becca.” Her nickname fell from my lips right before I settled my lips against hers. I couldn’t help it. Then I tasted her.
I nibbled her bottom lip, kissed her slowly and tenderly, as if it was my first kiss, my last kiss, the only kiss I’d ever need for the rest of my life and her body loosened and relaxed. Tension and fear that had coiled her tight unwound and still, I forced my body not to press against her.
We’d go as slow as she needed. I’d dodge as many bombs as I could and hope I didn’t blow either of us up in the process.
My hand would be just fine taking care of my dick. That wasn’t what tonight— this moment, this kiss— was about.