by Cassie Mae
“This is what I picture,” Cooper muses, keeping his eyes on the rafters above us. “Five years from now, I want to fall back onto a bed after a long day and just lie there in silence with a beautiful woman.”
“You can lie in silence alone,” I counter with a smart tilt of my lips. “Don’t have to share the comforter either.”
His stomach shakes with quiet laughter. “Solitude doesn’t quite do it for me.”
A prick of pain hollows out something I’ve kept deep inside for a long time. I understand the feeling; I’m unfortunately all too familiar with it. My best friend was married when I was twenty. My sister found love when I was twenty-three. My brother followed soon after that. There were several years I spent wallowing in what I thought wasn’t fair, and I often fretted over what was wrong with me. Where was the man I was meant to spend my life with? Start a family? As time went on, my friends and family grew in their own families, I found solace and comfort in the fact that I was able to do so much on my own. I didn’t have to be lonely—I had me, and that was enough. That is enough.
Besides, I’ve seen what a family turns into—the hellion two-year-olds and early dinner dates. Overbearing husbands who don’t allow you to eat cake and too many mouths to feed and not enough money to feed them. I internally scoff at the idea of actually wanting to have that. I was clearly a clueless twenty-something.
“I’m scaring you again,” Cooper says, turning his head toward me.
“No.” I face him. “It’s just rare to meet a man with his head so up in the clouds. I never know how to respond.”
“So far it’s been with carefully placed wit.” The whites of his teeth tease me in his smile, the blues of his eyes studying every wrinkle in my expression. I know he’s teasing, flirting, playing the game that everyone plays on a first date, though this version is definitely different than what I’m used to. Yet, his words are running straight to my heart; sarcasm can only get our conversation so far, and if I’m never as straight with him as he has been with me, we’ll be playing the game a lot longer than we should.
The flirt and playfulness in my smile dissipates, and his brow furrows slightly before his gaze flicks to just over my shoulder.
“Son of a… What are you doing here?”
I twist to see who he’s looking at—a man with dirty blond hair and a clean shaven face. He matches Cooper in height, or at least has to be close. Running from just behind his right ear down the curve of his neck and disappearing into his collared button-down is a jagged scar that immediately after noticing, I try my hardest not to stare at.
The man tilts his head slightly to the side, lifting a to-go cup to his lips. “Guess my schedule opened up.”
The bed shifts behind me as Cooper pushes from it. “Could’ve called.” He makes an obvious gesture with is eyes toward me before extending his hand to help me up.
He shrugs. “Lost my phone.”
Cooper rolls a pair of exasperated eyes that land on me, and I feel as if I should understand the irritation, but I’m not quite caught up yet.
“Maya, this is my brother Robbie.”
“Ah,” I say with a knowing grin. “The annoyance makes sense now.”
Robbie laughs, pointing at Cooper with his cup. “He’s pissing a fit ‘cause one of us had to supervise the shoot.”
“And you insisted your plans were unbreakable, as were mine.”
Robbie shakes his head and swallows. “No… you said your plans were flexible.” His eyes move to me. “Looks like it’s going just fine. She’s still here, isn’t she?”
Cooper weaves his fingers with mine, and I have to bite away a twitterpated grin when the deep blues of his eyes lock onto me. “That she is.”
There must be a silence long enough to make Robbie feel like he has to clear his throat to get our attention back, but it sure doesn’t feel like it was nearly enough time.
“So… big bro, you two stand in for the next ten minutes then you can scamper off while I supervise the rest of this very exciting bedding ad. Good with you?”
Cooper turns to me. “Good with you?”
“Will there be food at some point this evening?” I ask, starting to wonder if I should’ve eaten before he picked me up.
“Right after this.”
“Then that plan is great with me.”
Robbie’s gaze distinctly moves down my frame, his lips curling upward, and I self-consciously wonder if he’s amused by the fact that a fuller body type wants a trip to the trough, but I quickly shake it from my head. I shouldn’t worry about the approval of Cooper’s family members—there is no reason for it now or ever. I snicker to myself at the fact that my mind went there all on its own.
“We’re ready, Mr. Sterling,” a girl with a headset and clipboard says, looking at Cooper, but it’s Robbie who answers.
“Great. Maya, you want to climb up on the bed? Grab a pillow, will ya?”
I give Cooper a hesitant glance, and he grins and reaches across the mattress for one of the well-fluffed pillows. He playfully tosses it in my direction, and a squeak of surprise floats from my mouth.
“Watch it, buddy,” I tease, then trip my way up onto the bed. Robbie tells me to stay standing, keeping the pillow above my head while he directs Cooper to position himself flat on his back between my legs. A rare blush tints Cooper’s ears as he follows the direction, causing my mouth to turn up and soft giggles to erupt from somewhere deep in my abdomen.
“Perfect,” Robbie says, and the evil glint in his expression tells me that he’s enjoying embarrassing his brother a little too much. Cooper may be overly forward with his words, but his touch has been nothing but slow, sweet, and cautious ever since he apologized for kissing me on his run. I can tell the comfortable position for him right now would be to hold onto my ankle or run his hand up my leg, but since that’s a level we haven’t progressed to, he’s awkwardly stretching his arms to the side. I hold back a laugh as I stare down at him.
“This is so very tempting,” I say, giving the pillow a little squeeze. “One swift move and I’ll ruin that great hair you’ve got going for you tonight.”
My light-heartedness seems to relax him, his body loosening enough that he doesn’t look so frigid on the very comfortable mattress.
“I think that was his intention.” He nods toward his brother who is now directing me to angle my hips toward the camera. I rock a little on the bed, and whether out of instinct or just a genuine reflex, Cooper grabs hold just under the back of my knee. The soft touch sends my head spinning, and though I know he’s helping me keep my balance, I have to breathe a few times to keep from falling on top of him.
“Whoa there,” he says through a laugh. I get my footing and reposition myself to where Robbie wants me. The pressure Cooper’s putting on my leg starts to wane, his hesitancy creasing the lines near his mouth.
“You should keep your hand there,” I reassure him.
A noticeable air of relief passes in his eyes. “I like the way you think.”
He flexes, his fingers tickling enough to get a giggle out of me but not enough for me to lose my balance. Robbie tells me to bring the pillow down in front so they can see how the lighting is on my face. I try to follow the instructions, but Cooper’s starting to make faces at me, and it’s mighty distracting.
“I thought you were a professional,” I tease him as he does a blowfish impression. It’s incredibly sexy on him.
“Who told you that?”
I laugh and let the pillow swing down and flump against the side of his face. When his eyes open, I lift one shoulder and say, “Sorry.”
“You’re gonna be.”
“I wasn’t talking to you.” I glance over my shoulder at Robbie from behind the camera. “Sorry!” I say louder. “It slipped.”
Cooper’s fingers grow relentless in their tickling, and I curl in laughter, dropping on top of his stomach.
He lets out a whoosh of breath, and I hold mine while I wait for his to come back. I forgot tha
t I’m not the lightest person in the world—with him teasing me and looking at me like I’m the actual model in front of this camera, I felt like a size two.
“Oh, hold it there,” Robbie says. Cooper’s head whips around in a panic, and a similar feeling drops a weight into my gut. I shift on him, trying to hold most of my weight on my knees and less on him. His hands make a quick trip from my legs to my waist.
“Uh… you may want to hold still.”
Warmth spreads over my cheeks. “Sorry,” I say, genuinely this time. “I don’t want to crush you.”
His brows pull in. “You’re not.”
“I can see it on your face, liar.” I laugh. “This is really not comfortable for you.”
His eyes soften before they move past me and to the ceiling. “Maya… you’re straddling me on a bed, and I’m in pajama bottoms. Trust me, the problem is that I’m too comfortable.”
The realization hits, and a bubble of laughter rises up inside me. I let it out and wiggle on top of him, laughing when I find that he’s very much telling the truth.
He reaches above his head for another pillow, and I whack him with mine before he can get a shot in. Robbie lets us toss around, the flashes of the camera going off only barely registering in my brain. If I had to take a guess, I’d bet that I’ll never be asked to play stand-in again.
***
“How much do I owe you?” I ask Cooper, waving the 5x7 print at him as we head back to his truck. When Robbie went through the test film, I saw one shot that I just had to own. The rest were okay, too, but I doubt I’ll be seeing my face in any bedding ad.
Cooper grins and plucks it from my fingers, sliding it nicely into a protective sheet. “Consider it payment for the session.”
I chuckle. “Yes, that sounds fair for the incredible job I did.”
He shakes his head, letting his eyes drift over the photo. “Why this one?” he asks before handing it over.
“You kidding? Check out my ass. I can’t believe it isn’t photo-shopped.”
“Let the record show that I have permission from this moment forward to check out Maya Baker’s ass.” He sets his hands on my hips, sends a flock of fluttering wings through my chest, and spins me around to get a better look at the real thing. I should tell him the real reason I want the photo—his smile is absolutely killer in it.
I playfully tap at his hands to get him to let me go, but his fingers weave with mine, and I can feel his chest inch closer to my back. It makes it difficult to walk, but I don’t mind it one bit.
“Can I boldly assume this is going well?” he asks, holding up our joined hands.
“You can,” I tell him, “but if you don’t feed me soon, I will reconsider.”
He momentarily turns off all brain activity as he presses his lips softly against the nape of my neck. I have to find the air around us as the world tilts on its axis, my feet tingle in my flip-flops, and my tongue is in danger of putting a voice to my unholy thoughts.
The sudden brightness of the truck’s headlights as Cooper disarms it shines some sense into me.
“You okay with pizza?” he asks, putting some mind-clearing space between our bodies to open the door for me. My gaze floats up to his happy and hopeful eyes.
Damn it… that look is the kicker, isn’t it? It’s the face of someone who hopes this is going somewhere beyond a few fun dates (and hopefully a few frisky nights.) A giant cloud settles over my head, threatening to pour hateful insults all over me—phrases and names that would describe me if I wasn’t completely frank about my intentions right now.
“I won’t fall in love with you.”
The tilting world drops to its knees, swaying Cooper on the spot. For once, I’m throwing him for a loop.
His strong hand flexes on the door handle, the tendons rising under his skin all the way up his forearm. His brow wrinkles in slight amusement, and he lets out a small laugh along with his words. “I’m not as quick with the wit as you are, so you’ll have to forgive this.” He circles a finger at his adorably stunned expression, making what I have to say that much harder.
“You’ve been very clear on your intentions,” I explain, toying with the edge of the photo in my hands. “I’m making sure you’re clear on mine.”
He presses his lips together, and even that creases the lines in his cheek that completely drive me to the brink of insanity.
“That’s fair.” He settles against the truck door, letting me have the floor. Now that I have it, I have to gather my thoughts so they come out the right way. I’ve never had this conversation—never a need for it—so I don’t know where to start.
“I don’t want marriage,” I say, opting to just go for it. “I don’t want kids. I don’t want that life you described, the life you want.”
He stands in thoughtful patience, taking in every word that falls from my lips as if they were something precious. It throws me off a bit, and I find my mind fumbling around for explanations.
“Life is really good right now. I’ve got my own place, I live for myself, I have freedom and possibilities… I enjoy the fun parts of relationships.” I wave a finger between us. “These parts. First dates, first touches, first kisses. After a while they become stale and unfeeling. I don’t want to venture into that territory… So while this is going well, and I too find you insanely attractive, this won’t be going anywhere.”
The storm cloud over my head starts to clear, creating an overcast forecast. I feel better, but I also feel a sense of loss at the same time. If only we were looking for the same things, whether it’s both of us wanting something serious or both of us wanting something fun, then I wouldn’t have felt this obligation to bring this up and put such a sour taste on an otherwise perfect evening.
He tilts his head, studying my jittery movements. “Why agree to go out with me at all?” he asks, his voice light.
“Curiosity, mostly.” I shrug. “You also caught me in a weak moment.”
His brow pulls in briefly before the memory returns to him. A wicked glint flickers in the deep blues of his eyes, and he shoves from the car door and closes the distance between us. His strong fingers run through my hair and grip at the back of my head, stealing the breath from my lungs. His lips come down on mine, anxious and hungry, erasing any confusion settling in the corners of my mind.
“Go out with me again.” His request comes out in a breathless grunt between our lips. I can’t seem to string two thoughts together. The stars have been plucked from the sky and placed behind my eyes, and the thought of saying no seems ludicrous; why would I ever turn away the possibility of another moment like this one?
“You are evil,” I tell him with a grin, catching onto his game.
“Is that a yes?”
“It won’t change my mind.”
He taps a kiss to my nose and steps back, the smile lines creasing his cheeks. “I like you, Maya. I’m not looking to change your mind. I want to know what’s inside of it.”
10
Agree to Disagree
This place is ginormous. I feel like an itty bitty ant as I stretch up to ring the bell. I half expect a tuxedo-donning butler to answer the big wooden door and offer to take my coat… well, if I were wearing one.
When Cooper sent me the address and told me to come over ready to eat, I waited a full hour before agreeing. I hardly ever say yes to second dates—mostly because I rarely get asked on them—but Cooper has discovered the key to my stubbornness, and it’s not just his kissing skills.
I do a quick check of the ladies to make sure they’re not popping out of the deeply cut, heart-shaped bodice of my only little black dress. It’s been a while since I pulled this number out, the last guy I thought worthy of it I dated when I was twenty-six. It’s a little tight around the middle, but I think it’ll still do the trick.
The lock on the door clicks, and my stomach flutters up to the sky, pulling the corners of my mouth with it on the trip. Cooper greets my clown-ish grin with one of his own, his eyes staying o
n mine for a good three seconds before taking a detour up and down my dress. I do a slow spin for him just for fun.
“You approve?”
“Hang on.” He braces himself using the doorframe. “Trying to find the right word.”
“That bad?”
“You’re gorgeous.” His foot falls onto the porch as he takes a step toward me, and I glance down just enough to notice he’s barefoot. “It’s good to see you.”
My gaze roams over his face, down to his shoulders and chest that’s covered in a deep blue, long-sleeved Henley, his muscular forearms peeking out from the rolled up sleeves. He’s in a pair of khaki cargos that hug him quite nicely, a pen hooked onto one of the side pockets. I’m in danger of throwing myself at him; khakis are my weakness, and I’d never ever admit that to anyone, even my cats.
“Likewise,” I say, wishing that my breathless voice sounded more flirty than it did flighty, but by the look on his face, he seems to like getting me all hot and bothered.
“Hungry?”
“Starving.”
He slides his fingers between mine, leads me inside the mansion, and grins wide at the gasp that slips through my teeth.
I’m a realtor; I’ve seen million dollar homes and foreclosed P.O.S’s. I’ve seen everything from horribly painted walls and half-eaten carpets to marble staircases and ten-thousand dollar rugs. When you see a house like the outside of this one, there’s an expectation of the inside. This one defies them all.
“Surprised?”
“You could say that,” I tell him with a laugh, glancing around at the very… well, there’s no other way to describe it… family-esk décor. To our left is a parlor area, but it looks more like a playroom for a daycare. Toys in colorful buckets on organized shelves, one wall painted in chalkboard paint, drawings of stick figures and undefined swirls faded as if they tried to erase them, but they had a faulty eraser.
To our right is the dining and kitchen area, both of those looking more like what I’d expect from a million-dollar home, except in place of a dining room table, a checkered picnic blanket is spread across the fluffy carpet. Battery-operated tea lights line the edges, a couple of plates covered with sterling silver lids sit on either side, and a bucket with a bottle of champagne rests just off the blanket.
