by Cassie Mae
I know he probably says it so I don’t get the wrong idea, but as he disappears to go take care of the birth control that I basically freaked on him about, a tidal wave of sorrow fills my chest, pushing tears up to the back of my eyes. I don’t understand the response, because “fun” is the perfect adjective. That’s what I wanted—fun. Nothing more.
Yet, as I reach for the sheets to cover up, that description of what just happened doesn’t quite do it justice. It doesn’t do Cooper justice. It doesn’t do us justice… and now I’m thinking that there really could be an “us.”
A groan rips through my throat and I roll my face into the sheets. So much for convincing him on the single life of flings and fun. I’m going to have to convince myself back into it first.
17
Gas and Cats
“Don’t tell Warren I ate the entire basket of cheese fries myself.”
Holland pushes the empty red burger tray to the center of the table, her belly popping the buttons on her shirt. Whether that’s from the food baby or the actual baby, I’m not sure.
I zip a finger over my lips and then swirl my straw around in my strawberry lemonade. With it being a slow day for showings and Cooper stuck in the dentist’s chair, I called up Holland for some much needed girl time. If anyone can convince me that the grass is definitely greener on the single side, she can. Pregnant Holland has a tendency to forgo the sugarcoating.
Her forehead bunches as she shifts, and her hand flies to her bulging stomach. I tilt my head and stop playing with my straw. “You okay?”
She nods. “Uncomfortable a lot lately. Been cramping on this left side.” Her eyes try to smile through a wince. “You think cramps are bad now…” She makes a horse rumbling sound with her lips, and I try to laugh away my concern. It doesn’t work too well.
“Maya, I’m okay. I have a doctor’s appointment day after tomorrow. Occasional cramping is normal.”
Point for Holland. I nearly reach out and thank her for being so blunt about the cons of pregnancy. I take the nugget of information and pile it behind a locked door in my head that I’ll unleash next time Cooper has his hands on me.
Her phone buzzes against the table, and she cradles her belly as she leans forward to grab it. She blows out another horsey sigh and types a text back.
“You have plans tonight?” she asks, her eyes only briefly leaving her screen before focusing back on the message she’s sending. “Warren picked up another overtime shift.”
I pause to think about the answer to that. I don’t have any set plans, no, but staying with Cooper seems to be a standing date. Maybe he’ll be okay with Holland hanging out. We are “married” after all. Not every night is dedicated to each other. See Exhibit A sitting across from me.
And while I’d rather spend another night alone with Cooper, it’s probably wise to have a buffer when my feet are tiptoeing the line I was sure I wouldn’t cross.
“Let me check with Cooper. You can come play in the mansion.” I grin over my phone, holding back my amusement that we’re both chatting with the men in our life when we wanted to spend some time just us girls.
I slide the phone back into my pocket, knowing Cooper won’t answer for a bit since he’s currently getting fit for a crown. Holland’s back straightens in hopeful surprise at my offer.
“There’s a pool, right?” she asks. “I could really go swimming right now. Feel weightless in this bloated body for once.”
I hold back a snort and nod, handing off the bill to the waitress when she walks by. Holland and I have a trade-off system, and it’s my turn to pay. Usually she’s a little more frugal with her menu choice, but I was happy to see that she finally indulged in both an appetizer and an entrée.
Her wince is back, and she runs a hand over her stomach and holds her side, breathing as if she’s in the third trimester and not the first.
“You sure you’re all right?”
She nods at the table. “Promise. I’m not bleeding. I’ve read that this is completely normal.”
Her words are in total contradiction to her tone, and after the pain passes she shakes her head at the empty food tray in front of her. “Damn it, don’t tell Warren that he’s probably right about my food intake. Next time I’ll lay off the grease.”
I chuckle, hoping that the action erases the unsettling feeling I have digging a hole in my gut. The waitress hands me back my card and wishes us a good rest of the day, and I shake myself into taking Holland’s word over her health. She already has one worrywart hovering over her; she definitely doesn’t need another.
My phone goes off just as I’m adding up the tip, and I let my brow pull in as I read the message.
“Cooper’s done early,” I relay to my friend. “I better get him back to his place and I’ll see you there tonight?”
“Yes,” Holland says on an exhale. “Thank you. Another night alone and I will go stir crazy.”
I laugh, humoring her, but also stocking yet another tidbit away as ammunition when Cooper has me near ready to commit to him. Warren’s been working so much lately that he’s mostly gone and when he is around he’s too exhausted to be entertaining company. I feel for my friend, and I give her a tight hug before parting. Yes, both of us could use a night to give our heads a break.
***
“Wheeeeeeeeeew!” Cooper hollers, pressing the down button on the passenger window of his precious truck. He stops it halfway down and then grins in stupid fascination as he rolls it back up.
“Someone’s enjoying their laughing gas,” I say, trying not to get too distracted by him as he tests all the buttons within arms’ reach.
“Did you know,” he says forcing a serious look on his droopy lips, “that my first client was a used car place?”
“I did not.”
“Yeah.” His eyes widen. “They paid us five hundred bucks to shoot a commercial. We couldn’t hire actors so Robbie and I did it.” He leans in further as if it’s a big secret he’s been keeping from me. “It was a local commercial that someone messed up in the schedule or something, and it aired during the Super Bowl. Wham bam boom, now I’m a billionaire. You knew that, right?”
“I am your realtor,” I say, biting back my laughter.
“Mmm,” he mutters, smile tilting his lips as much as it can through the Novocaine. His head falls against the headrest and he taps the ceiling of the cab. “Funny… people tell me I have it all. But I don’t have what I want. Can’t exactly buy a wife and kids.”
“Sure you can,” I tease, nudging him with my elbow. “You could probably throw a rock and find what you’re looking for. You’re a billionaire, easy on the eyes, funny, smart, charming, witty. You’re basically the whole package. I’m surprised you haven’t taken the first girl to come a knockin’ and slap a ring on her.”
“Maybe I’m looking for the whole package, too. Someone funny, witty, easy on the eyes, doesn’t care about my money, preferably because she makes her own. She’s content, strong, and smart, and I don’t want to spend a day without her. I don’t want just any wife and kids. I want my wife and kids.”
How is he so profound while he’s high as a kite? Perhaps some of that laughing gas has made its way over to me, because while a sentence like that would normally have sent me running, I almost feel like clinging on to him, hoping to prove myself worthy of just one of those qualities he’s searching for.
He lets out a long sigh and rolls his head toward me. “If only you were up for the job. People think I’m lucky?” He snorts. “I’d give up every penny just for the chance at a future with you.”
Yes, he’s definitely reached the nonsensical point in his pain medication. “Okay,” I tell him, pulling up to the house and shutting the truck off, “I think it’s time for a nap. Your tongue is starting to run away with you.”
“I thought you liked that.” He waggles a pair of suggestive eyebrows, and I fail at keeping my laughter at bay.
“Come on.” I help him from the truck, his weight having an
arousing effect on me as he drapes an arm over my shoulder. My hand holds onto his waist, and I can’t help but appreciate the muscle under my fingers even with him resting his head on mine and gazing at me as if I’m something to be treasured.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs as we step up the front porch. “I like this freckle you have right here.”
His finger presses into my cheekbone much harder than I expect, and I jerk back with a laugh. We get inside and I take one look at the staircase and opt to set him down in the sitting room instead. He flumps down into the cushions, laughing as he does so. His cheeks are puffy and his eyes are crossed. He looks out of his mind, and yet I still find him sexy as hell.
“Time to sleep this off, my friend,” I say, pulling a woven blanket up over his shoulders. As entertaining as he is, I hope the effects have worn off by the time Holland gets here. I’m already worried about Cooper’s lack of filter while he’s sober; I can’t imagine the ribbing I’ll get if his laughing gas pairs up with my best friend of ten plus years.
His eyes close almost instantaneously with the drapes when I pull them shut, casting the room in darkness. I grin at his deep breathing moving his chiseled chest up and down, his lips parted and his face half into the pillow. There is a foreign emotion nibbling at my heart, making it twitter beneath my fingers as I press them to my chest in a sore attempt to calm the chaotic beating. I’m attracted to Cooper. I think he is amazingly sexy and I am aroused by his wit, his honesty, his touch, his eyes, his hair, his smile. I’m familiar with those responses. I can put words to them, know how to react when they make an appearance. But this one… I’m at a complete loss. I want to sink into his mind and feast on all of his thoughts. I want to be close to him when physically close isn’t close enough.
I try to shake myself out of these thoughts, rip my eyes away from his sleeping form on the couch, and focus on the things that I know I want. One person for the rest of my life is a terrifying thought. Pregnancy, children, making choices that affect so many other people and not just myself… I’m not used to that. I’d bet I’m no good at it either. But for the first time ever, I can envision that kind of life with Cooper, and it doesn’t entirely make me want to run away.
After creeping from the room, I head back outside for some fresh air, and hopefully some fresh perspective.
***
The sun is hitting the point in the afternoon when it colors the entire house orange. My cats have finally braved exploring the rest of the place and have spread themselves to their absolute tallest across the sitting room floor. The daylight shines across Tom, making his coat look like he dove into a tube of lubricant. Kat is flat on her back, paws in the air, soaking up the rays. I close the book I’d been trying to get lost in and frown at them both.
“Traitors,” I mutter under my breath. They were my excuse when it was time to go back home. Cooper has been hinting in his sleepy daze that he wishes I would stay longer than two weeks. Tom and Kat were supposed to continue their grumpiness so I don’t weaken if and when Cooper asks me in all seriousness.
Speaking of, a low groan rumbles from the couch, and the owner of that panty-dropping sound slowly shifts onto his back. His arm lifts to his jaw, his fingers running across trimmed scruff.
“How big was it?” he asks, eyes opening to my questioning brow. “The truck that hit me.”
I let out a small laugh. “It was more like a drill.”
“Or a jackhammer.” He lets go of his jaw and eases himself to a sitting position. “Would you do me a favor and grab me some Tylenol? It’s in the bathroom cabinet.”
I nod and pad my way across the open floor plan to the guest bathroom under the vast staircase. After tipping three pills into my palm, I tilt a crystal glass under the faucet and bring him both. The lift of his brow at the water and the flash of gratitude in his eyes bubbles my stomach with a sense of usefulness I haven’t quite felt before. I haven’t experienced being in a responsible roll where I actively and willingly take care of someone other than myself and my cats. I kinda like it.
“Thanks,” he says then pops the pills and takes a generous gulp of water. I offer to put the glass back, but he sets it on the table behind the couch. He gestures for me to join him, and I slump down, instantly warming from our touch combined with the sun streaming through the crack in the drapes.
His eyes roam over me, and because my mind is still tumbling with thoughts I don’t want to have, I stay quiet. He drops his hand over mine and mindlessly plays with the bracelet dangling from my wrist.
“Another favor?” he asks.
“Hmm?”
“Forgive me for whatever I said while under the influence?”
I laugh. “You said nothing incriminating.”
“Then why the long face?”
“Tired.” It’s sort of the truth. “Thinking too much maybe.”
“About…?”
Us. The word is on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t find the courage to say it. Voicing it only makes it so much more real.
My gaze drifts over our legs touching in so many places, our bodies so comfortably pressed together. It almost seems unreal. So unreal that I can hardly believe it will last, even if I wanted it to.
His quiet laugh breaks me out of my head, and I meet his eyes as he says, “Yeah… you definitely are.”
“Huh?”
“Thinking too much.”
I push him lightly in the arm, and he winces, but not from my touch. His hand is back on his jaw. Grateful for the temporary distraction, I take the opportunity to wildly change the subject.
“You know what you need?”
“Blow job.”
I roll my eyes at his very male response, giving him the benefit of the doubt; he’s probably still coming out of the gas. “No.” I wave my arm out at my fur babies. “A cat.”
“That is the last thing I need.”
I shake my head. “Cats are a great source of healing power.”
He tilts an eyebrow at me, and I push his legs so that I can snag Kat before she runs away. She’s not the best cuddle-bug, but she’s less of a butthole than Tom. With Cooper’s trepidation, I’m going with the nice one, because they both have claws.
The orange ball of fur flinches with surprise when I wrap my hand around her belly and cradle her to my chest. She goes from sleepy to tense in my arms the closer I get to Cooper, and I sense that she’s only matching his emotions. His blue eyes are wide and worried as I settle the kitten in his lap.
She’s there for less than a second before she takes off and hides.
“I’m cured!” Cooper teases, and I wrinkle my nose at him before reaching for the large cat I have to use two hands to get up off the floor. Tom lets out a low growl as I move him from his sunny spot, but he’s otherwise still just as lazy as he was before I disturbed him.
“Try this one.”
“That one will kill me.”
I level Cooper with a look and plop Tom down a little harder than I planned. After getting the wind knocked out of him from the weight, Cooper makes a sound similar to Tom’s growling as the old cat curls up for a nap.
“Pet him,” I instruct, stroking down Tom’s hot black fur. “The purring starts the healing process.”
“You read this on the internet or something?” he asks, that skeptical eyebrow still raised sky high at me.
“Yes.”
“Oh!” he says just as my pocket vibrates. “I get it. You’re crazy.”
“Pet him,” I say again, seeing Holland’s name on my screen. “I’ll be right back.”
I hold in a laugh as a look of panic flashes in Cooper’s blue irises. His fists stay firmly at his sides while he doesn’t move a muscle underneath Tom’s weight. I wickedly wiggle my eyebrows as I leave the room and answer my phone.
“Hey,” I say through a laugh to Holland on the other line.
“Hey.”
My amusement is gone, my heart stopping mid-beat at the wetness in her voice. “What’s wron
g? Are you okay? Is Warren all right?”
She sniffs. “I’m fine. Just disappointed. I don’t think a swim is a good idea tonight.”
“Sick again?”
“Oh yeah.” She gulps. “Sorry. I really needed it, and then…” She drifts off, groaning.
“Do you need me to come to you?” I offer. I really don’t mind it, though the thought of leaving Cooper on one of the few nights I have left with him is a little more gut-wrenching than I thought it’d be.
“It’s not pretty, Maya.”
“I’ve seen you puke before.”
“Don’t remind me.” Her soft laugh floats through the phone. “I’ll be fine. Just want to sleep and be alone for a bit to wallow in my misery.”
“You sure?”
“Uh huh.”
“Let me know if you change your mind.”
“I won’t. Enjoy spending time with that sex god you’re staying with. Seriously. I’d like to live vicariously through you.”
I bite away a grin, my cheeks warming at the reminder of Cooper’s very capable hands all over my body. Sex god, indeed.
“Feel better. Love you.”
“Love ya, too.”
My thumb swipes the red button left, and I let out a long sigh of relief that my suspicions were squashed. I wouldn’t wish nausea on anyone, but better that than what I was thinking.
I turn around, and my feet stop in their tracks when I catch Cooper slowly running his hand over Tom’s back. My grumpy butt cat is nudging Cooper with his head, his purring so loud I can hear it from across the room. A smile teases at the corner of Cooper’s mouth, and something warm and winged rises in my chest.
“Feeling better?” I ask, leaning against the wall to gaze at the heart-fluttering view. Cooper’s eyes flick up, narrowing slightly at the fact that he got caught.
“Not another word, Miss Baker.”
18
Guarded Hearts
With Cooper’s tooth fixed and his brain back to normal, the next few days pass by in a blur of work and sex. Twice now at the same time. It’s my very sore attempt to try to prove to him that the fun part of a relationship is the sparkly first few days in. And when that doesn’t work, I prowl around in a very sluggish fashion, being as unladylike and uncensored as possible. Last night when he caught me spitting an impressive amount of toothpaste and saliva into the sink, spraying the faucet and his hand, he just looked at me with those gorgeous blues and said, “You’re adorable” and then wiped his hand off.
