by Nina Bocci
Or you have a third choice. My “choice.” Which was a combination of the two with the added-on, exhausting factor of having to work with that former childhood friend daily. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but in a small town where everyone knew everything, you don’t have many options.
Dwelling on the situation was souring my mood further. The less I focused on Cooper and his date, I knew, the happier I’d be.
I looked up, smiling at the server. “It’s okay, but thanks. If I can just hang here a bit longer?”
Nodding, she gave me a sympathetic smile and headed back into the main part of the restaurant, subtly bumping into Cooper’s chair with her hip. When she reached the swinging doors that led to the kitchen, she turned and gave me two thumbs-up.
There was another laugh, but it was from Cooper this time. A lusty boom, deep and gravelly. I heard it often at work. Never at me or with me, just in my presence, and it always elicited the same reaction: annoyance, followed by a steady stream of self-loathing, because at one point in my life, I had wanted him.
That, above all else, was a hard pill to swallow.
3
* * *
I pulled the white napkin from the table and twisted it in my lap. Taking a deep breath, I kept working, but the longer I stared, the more the words in front of me blurred. Maybe it was the iPad, my dry contacts, or the annoying glare from all the candles surrounding the happy couples around me. Or maybe all three.
I ignored the metal bucket of cold water that reminded me that drinking a bottle of wine doesn’t necessarily help with focus.
What felt like only minutes later, I checked my watch, its tiny diamonds winking in the candlelight. It’d been more than two hours since I had arrived. With my work now completed, I dropped it into my bag. It was time to head home. But not before I ordered food.
Picking up the menu, I settled on carb overload to soak up some of the wine I’d consumed. Thank God it was a short, leisurely bike ride home. It was an old habit to bring my bicycle to the office and take it everywhere. In hindsight, it probably wasn’t the smartest mode of transport for a date, but Hope Lake had only one Uber driver. And chances were he had a long line of people waiting for him on a Friday night.
Waving over to the server who’d conspired with me earlier, I ordered La Bella Notte’s famous linguine fra diavolo to go. The spicy kick would knock the miserable mood from my body.
“Guido knows you’re here, so he’ll bring out your dinner. He wants to say hi,” the server said with a squeeze to my shoulder.
“Thanks, tell him I’ll be right back. I’m just running to the restroom, and I’ll be out of your hair.”
I made quick work in the bathroom, eager to get my to-go order and leave. As I exited the stall, Cooper’s statuesque date appeared in the doorway. She was even more flawless up close.
She was considerably taller than I, at least five or six inches, plus heels, in a sleek dress that hit just above her knees. You could tell that she had bought it because it made her legs look a mile long. If I’d had those legs, I would have worn that dress daily, but I was just at five feet, and no amount of heel could change that.
With a deep breath, I started fixing my hair in the mirror, smothering the years of jealousy I had harbored over women like her. Not just Cooper’s endless swinging door of beauty-queen conquests whom he paraded around town, but anyone who hadn’t suffered through the ugly duckling phase as I had: The braces you wore just as you got your period. The big boobs that sprouted way too early. While my friends were buying pretty, delicate training bras, I shopped in the grown-up section with my equally top-heavy mother. Over the years, I had grown to love my look, but every now and then, even the most secure women turn back into their awkward fourteen-year-old selves. This woman had definitely never had an awkward phase.
She was kind, too, apparently, as she pointed out that I had a bobby pin jutting out behind my ear.
“Thank you,” I muttered, turning on the faucet.
Feeling her eyes on me, I was determined to keep mine down. I focused on the running water, fighting the urge to look up and ask her questions. Or tell her to run for the hills. The height difference was even more apparent when I was actually standing next to her. It was like I was in that movie Twins with Arnold Schwarzenegger and Danny DeVito.
“I have to tell you,” she started, moving in closer to the mirror to swipe on some shockingly pink gloss.
I was taken aback at how loud she was in such a small space. Looking over, I noticed that her eyes were glassy and she had smudged her lip gloss onto her chin.
“I’d kill for your skin tone. It’s flawless,” she slurred, swaying in her towering heels.
When she turned to me, her brown eyes flitted across my face, giving me the once-over. Her arms were crossed under her breasts in what appeared to be an effort to make them look bigger or higher. I realized that she was just as likely to have insecurities as the rest of us.
Don’t rob me of my hate!
He’s out with her while you’re fixing his work!
Yep, there’s that. Hold on to that.
Giving her a small smile, I mumbled another thank-you and dried my hands. Turning to leave, I started as she placed a hand on my shoulder.
Steadying herself, she sighed. “I’m serious, your skin is enviable. I always wished I had olive skin. And this hair! Who’s your stylist? It can’t be someone here. This town is too small for any talent.”
“Wait, what?” I stuttered.
The comment rankled me. You don’t get to diss my town, lady. I cleared my throat.
“The guy I’m here with, he has an—I don’t know—some kind of government job or whatever. He’s loaded.” The last bit she whispered excitedly, and despite my hatred of Cooper, I wanted to bitch-slap her for wanting him only for his money.
“His family built this town, I guess,” she rambled on. “I only half-listened while we were eating dinner, but his mother sounds pretty famous.” With an obnoxious eyebrow waggle, she pranced out the door like she had just won the lottery.
Famous? His mother is the governor, for Christ’s sake.
“Numbnut,” I mumbled at the closing door.
I counted to twenty before heading out, needing to clear my head.
The little pep in my step faltered for a second upon seeing Cooper’s table empty; neither he nor Blondzilla were anywhere in sight. I shouldn’t have felt disappointed, but there was still a niggling feeling that reared its ugly head as I wondered where they were off to. Out of sight wasn’t always out of mind.
Back at my table, the server handed me my take-out bag, which was heavier than usual. “Guido threw in a dessert on the house. He apologizes for not stopping over like he wanted, but there was a proposal.” She put her hand to her heart, rolling her eyes. “Plus, the eight o’clock reservations are trickling in, so he’s busy trying to get everyone seated.”
I forced a smile. “Tell him I’ll call him next week about the upcoming events calendar.”
“Oh! I almost forgot,” she added, spinning back around. “He said to make sure you see the addition!”
“Will do!” When I had made the reservation, Guido had insisted I sneak a peek at the progress on the outdoor seating addition before I left. With the craziness of the evening, I’d forgotten.
“Check it out, it’s almost done and beautiful! Can’t wait to see it totally finished,” she said, squeezing my shoulder once more before departing.
Throwing too much cash into the billfold, I scribbled a thank-you and collected my tote and takeout. Instead of aiming for the front door, I headed toward the only quiet section in the restaurant—the newest part of the patio, which was down a few stairs and hadn’t yet opened to the public.
The wooden porch was built over the choppy lake below. Once completed, it would provide an even cozier waterfront dining experience. The architect had modeled it after the Italian grotto restaurants that dotted the Amalfi Coast. Thick wooden planks were laid diago
nally, giving the space a larger, more spacious feel. A curved wrought-iron banister lined the edges overlooking the water below. The grotto restaurant was built into a cave, so the builder had fashioned the roof into appearing as though it were hewn from stone. Large gray chunks jutted out from above with a simple lighting system, which gave it a romantic glow.
The new moon cut through the clouds, its light dancing over the water. The choppy waves broke against the rocky beach, sounding like music. It was peaceful until my phone pinged again.
Checking it, I saw that the text was a thank-you from Nancy for sending the updated proposal. She’d already sent it off to my dad to review. I swallowed the anger at Cooper for screwing up yet another task because his date was deemed more important.
If his head had been where it was supposed to be, he could have fixed his mistakes in twenty minutes. But he had been preoccupied with campaigning for months now, and it showed more and more every day.
I tamped down my mounting irritation at having to pick up his slack, when suddenly I felt a hand on my back.
“Emmanuelle.” The voice was deep, even, and assured. There was a hint of a teasing spark that seemed to always ignite every sense in me no matter how much I hated it.
Speak of the Devil.
“Why must you call me that?” I groaned, staying focused on the sounds of the water. I prayed it would work to calm me like the yoga app I’d downloaded. It didn’t.
“It’s your name,” Cooper said, shrugging. It was as if I hadn’t corrected him a thousand times over the past twenty years.
“No one calls me that.”
“Except your mother,” he corrected smugly.
Turning, I narrowed my eyes at him, hating that he knew that. “Only when I’ve done something to annoy her.”
“Well, I prefer Emmanuelle,” he shot back, his eyes reveling in my annoyance. I swear he fed off my exasperation.
Taking a step forward, he gave me a small smile that barely showed his perfect teeth.
My grin melted off my lips. I took a step back, then another, to escape the cologne bubble he enveloped me in. He was like an insect using his scent to attract a mate. With another step toward fresh air, I wedged myself between the exposed rock near the banister and the lethal lothario: the man who had driven me crazy for more than two decades.
A corner of his mouth tipped up. “You sure know how to make a man feel special. Or is it that you like the feeling of the rocks against your back? Should I move closer?”
At his words I flattened my lips, ignoring that my heart was thundering so loudly I could hear it in my ears.
He grinned predatorily and stepped closer.
I held up my hand. “Stop trying to butter me up with your shtick. I’m immune, especially when I’m pissed, and you know it. You deserve my wrath tonight for leaving me, and the mayor, with an essentially unacceptable proposal. I just spent the past two hours fixing all of your mistakes while you were off at your appointment.” I made air quotes for emphasis. “You pushing my buttons by being a slick jackass isn’t going to make me less riled up over the fact that you’re too preoccupied to function.”
EMMA THOUGHT: You lose all filters with wine.
His face was frozen in shock at my outburst. “You’re right, Emma. I’m sorry.” Two words I hated hearing from him. Not because I didn’t want him to apologize but because I knew that even if he said it now, he’d do something in another day or two to drive me up the wall again.
Who was I kidding? It would be an hour or two, not days.
Taking a deep breath, I took the anger down a notch. “What are you doing out here, Cooper?” I was grateful my voice came out calm and steady, instead of something akin to Hulk Smash Emma.
He moved like he was going to step forward again, but instead he rocked back on his brown leather loafers. He slipped his hands into his pockets in an innocent schoolboy kind of way. If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought he was sincerely apologetic.
“It’s about to rain. I thought I would offer you a ride home.”
An image flashed of me sitting quietly mortified in the backseat while his date’s head was in his lap. No, thank you.
“Something tells me your date wouldn’t appreciate you bringing another woman home.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“I mean to my home, not your home,” I corrected quickly. He smirked. The left side of his mouth curled up, revealing the dimple to end all dimples. It wasn’t fair that a man like him had one. Dimples were meant for carefree, lovable people—not . . . him.
He leaned forward against the rail.
“Don’t fall over,” I snipped.
Without comment, he slid his hands out of his pockets, rested them on the smooth iron, and started tapping his fingers. He looked every bit like an advertisement. Similar to his lanky date, Cooper was tall, well over six feet and change, and years of excelling at every sport he played had kept him in admirable shape. Fit and toned but not bulky. A closetful of well-tailored clothes didn’t hurt, either. He was always well put together. Tonight was no exception, with a pair of tan pants and a light blue dress shirt.
It was his deep blue eyes, though, that drew everyone in. His light brown hair did need a trim, I noted. It was starting to curl around his ears, and he desperately needed a shave. That was probably intentional. He knew that the scruffy look worked for him.
“I called for a car to take her back to Barreton tonight,” he said casually, not explaining any further.
My lips twitched, but I pressed them together to stave off a sarcastic remark. “Oh, yeah? Why’s that?”
“Let’s just say I can’t spend time with someone who’s that arrogant.”
“However do you spend time alone, then?”
He chuckled but kept his eyes on the water. “She made it clear she thought small towns are a joke. Even I can’t . . . entertain someone who doesn’t see the charm here.”
There it is.
For all the fault that I found in Cooper’s behavior, and no matter how irked I was with him, he did love this town. Almost as much as I did.
Rolling my shoulders back, I focused on the hefty weight of my takeout. The smell of the spicy sauce met my nose, and my stomach rumbled audibly. Oh, boy, that was loud. I needed to get myself home.
Hangry Emma + Cooper = an unpleasant end to an already unpleasant evening.
I cleared my throat. “Thanks for the offer, but I checked the weather before I rode over. All clear.”
I tried to sidestep him, but he countered, matching me like a well-built chess piece.
A pawn against a knight.
He inhaled, his broad chest puffing up under his too-perfect shirt. “Take a deep breath. It’s in the air tonight.”
It was tempting to be able to prove him wrong, but I couldn’t run the risk of a deep inhale. Not when all I smelled was him—warm and inviting mixed with the spiciness of the sauce that drifted up from the bag. If someone were to bottle this up and sell it, they would be set for their next five lifetimes.
“I can’t. All I smell is your aftershave and whatever cologne you’ve dumped on by the gallon. Honestly, how are your eyes not watering?”
He winked. “I think your mother bought me this for Christmas last year. She loves it.”
Gag. “You’re ridiculous.”
He bowed, sweeping his arm before him regally. “My friend, after all these years, I’d have thought you would have accepted that by now.”
“I accept nothing when it comes to you. That includes a weather report.”
“Go on,” he encouraged, taking another long inhale. “I love the way the air changes when there’s an incoming storm. It’s cleansing, yet sweet.”
He winked just as the wind picked up through the trees, rustling the leaves through the skinny branches. This guy even had Mother Nature under his spell.
The urge to dig out my phone and pull up the weather app to prove I was right was strong.
“It’s going to
be a good one, too; I can feel it.”
“I’m sure it’s your arthritis. I hear it hits once you turn thirty,” I clapped back, squeezing the bag handle.
He took a step closer and leaned forward.
“Hey, not thirty yet, and trust me, Emmanuelle, I can be on my knees all night. No problem.”
I gulped and was suddenly struck with a vision of him on his knees. Those mesmerizing eyes peering up at me as he disappeared under someone’s—
My eyes fluttered closed for a second because it was jarring being so close to him. In a lot of ways, Cooper was like the sun: you couldn’t fly too close to it, or him, without getting burned.
I’d found that out the hard way.
When I opened my eyes, I found Cooper back by the railing. It was as if I’d imagined the whole exchange. Our conversations were always fraught with tension, and tonight was no exception. I just had too much wine clouding my judgment.
This was the Cooper who was the most dangerous. Not in a threatening way, but in the way that made me forget that I was mad at him. The guy who could charm anyone with his masterful bait-and-switch tactics.
EMMA THOUGHT: Wine is really good at making sure you let your guard down.
“See?” Cooper said. He was leaning over the wrought iron, his arm extended, his palm open and facing up to the dark sky.
Damn you, Mother Nature.
He caught a fat raindrop. With a smug grin, dimple deep and full of mischief, he waited for me to respond.
Son of a bitch.
“I guess I have to take that ride after all.”
4
* * *
In the restaurant’s parking lot, I stood underneath the flapping canopy that led back into the indoor dining space. Early-September rain poured off the material, puddling around my feet. Cooper was pushing my bike into La Bella Notte’s basement for safekeeping. Within minutes of my agreeing to take Cooper’s ride, it had started pouring.
I really hated when he was right.
