by Kendall Ryan
Emma pursed her lips and seemed to consider that for a long moment. “That’s a tougher question. He loves and he loves hard. He’s loyal and sweet. I think he wants what he never got growing up.”
The “loves hard” part stung, but I refused to dwell on that part. If Cooper said whatever he and Emma had was over, I chose to believe him. I was more interested in the latter part.
“What do you mean by that? What didn’t he get growing up?”
She shifted in her seat, looking a little uncomfortable now. “Gavin doesn’t like people to know about their story, so I typically don’t tell it.”
“And Cooper? How does he feel?” I asked.
Emma sighed. “He’s always been more open than the other two brothers. And if you’re asking about him as a man, I’m going to assume it’s because you care about him.”
She considered her drink for a long minute, then looked me squarely in the eye.
“I think the best I can say is that they were raised in a tough situation in a rough neighborhood. Their mom spent her time with unsavory people, and she had an equally unsavory job. That’s shaped all of them in its own way. But at the end of the day? They all want to protect the people they care about. And Cooper, most of all, wants the kind of love between a man and a woman he never got to witness as a child.”
A knife slipped between my ribs at her words, then twisted as I noted the way her eyes softened as she spoke about him. It might be over, but damn it, she loved him. Maybe not in the way he’d wanted her to, but she did love him, even if it was now only a brotherly love. I would have to deal with that, even if Cooper and I were only going to be lovers for a short while.
More than that, though, I had to deal with the fact that this woman knew him in a way I didn’t. They shared a bond that he and I didn’t. And suddenly, I wanted that.
Desperately.
“The more time you spend with him, the more he’ll show himself to you. He’s an easy guy to like.” Emma smiled.
“He is. Thanks.”
I sipped my drink again, then shook my head to clear it. She’d given me a lot to think about. Too much, maybe. But what her words had convinced me of was that whatever I felt for Cooper was worth exploring.
“What do you say we dance?” I said, desperate for an escape from all the heavy thinking I had ahead of me.
Together we joined Alyssa on the dance floor, and I learned the lyrics to every song the band played as Alyssa shouted them in my ear. As the night progressed, one shot turned to two, and then three.
By the time midnight rolled around, I was finally feeling less like I wanted to fall on a sharp object every time I looked at Emma, but even if I did? I doubted I would feel any pain.
I was swaying back and forth even as the band took a break, and when we found our table again, the euphoria of my drunkenness shifted from mellow to reckless.
Feeling more certain by the second, I picked up my phone and stared at it for a second before doing the thing I knew I’d probably regret.
I drunk-dialed Cooper.
He answered, his voice tight with worry. “Hey, are you okay? It’s late.”
“Fine, fine. C-can you pick me up, though? I think I drank too much, and I want to go home but I don’t want to ruin the girls’ night.”
“Of course. Where are you?” he replied without hesitation.
I told him the name of the bar, and I heard rustling in the background. Had he been in bed?
“Stay right there. I’ll find you,” he said and clicked off a second later.
When I returned to the table, Emma and Alyssa had three glasses of water waiting for us.
“Here you go,” Alyssa said. “We’re gonna have one last dance and then head home. You cool with that?”
I shook my head. “No, no, I called a ride. But thank you.”
Emma gave me a wobbly thumbs-up. “We’ll wait with you until they get here.”
“No, go ahead. You guys dance. I swear I’m fine,” I said, and though I had to assure them roughly twenty more times, they eventually left just in time for Cooper to text me that he was waiting outside.
I recalled getting to my feet and making it to the sidewalk, and then a strong pair of arms closing around me.
And after that? It was all blackness.
• • •
Morning came in like a wrecking ball, pounding against my skull, demanding entry.
I cracked my eyes open to find I was still fully dressed and now surrounded by a sea of white. The down comforter and feather pillows surrounding me were luxurious and inviting.
In the distance, I heard the sizzle of something on a stove, and I forced myself to find my bearings, despite the fact that I felt like I was moving underwater. When I finally got to my feet, I stepped through the bedroom door to find Cooper at the stove in his light blue pajama bottoms, cracking an egg into a hot skillet.
“Good morning. How are you feeling?” He grinned at me as I slipped into a chair at the breakfast bar in his kitchen.
I forced myself to look away from his glorious body—because, holy shit, my boss had a six-pack and the sexiest muscled chest I’d ever seen outside of one of those men’s fitness magazines—and scrubbed a hand over my face.
“Not great,” I confessed with a pained chuckle. “Should I be embarrassed about anything I said or did last night?”
“Well, you told me my bed head looked cute, and patted my butt. Other than that, though? You passed out the second you got in my car. I carried you in and put you to bed. That was about it.”
I groaned. “I’m sorry. God, I didn’t realize I’d drank so much.”
Cooper shrugged. “It’s not a big deal, Corinne. I was happy to come pick you up.”
Suddenly realizing things felt freer, I looked down at myself, noticing for the first time my lack of a bra. “Um.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “What happened to my bra?”
Cooper let out a chuckle, his gaze raking over me. “Oh yeah. I forgot about that.” A smile tilted up the corners of his mouth. “When I laid you down in bed, you tugged at the straps like you were uncomfortable, so I removed it. Women don’t usually sleep in them, right?”
I swallowed. “Oh. That’s . . .” Awkward.
“Trust me, it was no problem at all. And I didn’t even steal a peek.”
I pursed my lips. “Aren’t you a saint.”
“Fuck yes, I am. You’re so sexy, Corinne.” His voice went husky as he watched me. “All those curves. You’re stunning.”
My gaze focused on the floor, I mumbled something of a disagreement. I was so not, but I didn’t want to argue with him. “Thank you again for last night, but you don’t have to babysit me,” I said, rising to my feet. “Let me get out of your hair so you can—”
“No, not before you get some food in you,” he said, shaking his head.
Another panicked thought crossed my mind, and I groaned. “No, really, my roommate is probably a wreck with worry. I always come home, and I didn’t even call. I have to go.”
Cooper shrugged. “So, call her now.”
“Him,” I said as I stood. “And I can’t. My phone is dead.”
“Him?” Cooper flipped the egg and then turned to face me. “You have a male roommate?”
“Yes.” I tried to sound as casual as possible despite the fact that my stomach felt like it was going to rebel. That was probably something I should have divulged before now, but mentioning it brought with it a whole other can of worms.
“So . . . are you sleeping with him?” Cooper asked, his voice deceptively soft.
“What? No.” I frowned, shaking my throbbing head.
“I had to ask,” he said with a clipped nod, the concern on his face clearing. “But good. I trust you. And while we’re involved, I want you to know you can trust me too. No fucking unless it’s between you and me. Deal?”
I refused to meet his gaze and searched for my purse, which I found hangin
g on the back of one of the high-backed chairs. “I just need to get home. Can we talk about this later?”
His face tensed again as he stared at me. “Do you have a history with this guy or something?”
I let out a long sigh. “Will you just please tell me where my shoes are?”
Cooper frowned. “Foot of the bed.”
“Great. Thanks.”
After I slipped into my bra and gathered my shoes, Cooper plated his eggs, leaving them to grow cold while he called me a car.
“Thank you again. And I’m really sorry for bothering you last night.”
He nodded, watching me warily. “You didn’t bother me.”
I’d just gotten things back on a good footing with him the day before, and now, less than twenty-four hours later, here I was running again. Like a child.
But even that shameful thought didn’t stop me as I slid on my shoes and bolted out the door.
Chapter Eleven
Cooper
In spite of everything that had happened last night and how it had ended, I couldn’t bring myself not to message Corinne. From the second she’d hurried out my door early that morning, my mind had focused on nothing else.
Of course, I thought of her with her roommate—her so-called platonic friend. But it was more than that. In fact, whatever jealousy I felt was practically infinitesimal compared to my own curiosity.
What was Corinne like when she was out, partying with friends? What had her night been like? And most of all, why had I been the person she called—not another coworker or a friend, but me?
She was running scared, for sure. But I’d been the person she’d wanted when her guard was down. That had to matter. And there was no question that I couldn’t give up so easily.
There was something about this girl that made me wonder about her in ways I’d never thought of anyone else. And so, when it finally became too much, I picked up the phone and tapped out a quick text.
What are you doing tonight?
The reply came back a few minutes later.
Not sure.
I considered the reply, and while it definitely wasn’t super encouraging, she could have just said she had plans.
The museum downtown is having a zombie exhibit. They’re doing a movie marathon there too. Want to go?
I stared at the phone waiting for her reply. After the way she’d stormed out of my place like her ass was on fire this morning, I was afraid some part of me already knew the answer and just didn’t want to accept it—that it was all over before it had even begun. But to my surprise, she messaged me back.
It’s not a date, right?
I smiled before typing out my reply.
Of course not. Do you really think I’d take a woman to a zombie display on a first date?
Her reply came almost instantly
Good point. Okay, meet you there.
I blinked and shoved the phone in my pocket, trying not to grin like an idiot, even though nobody was around to judge. Still, this felt like the start of something, the chance to make up for pushing too hard a couple of nights ago. To take it slower and chip away at the carefully constructed walls around the true Corinne.
The more I thought about her, the more I realized I only knew her in fragments—like shattered glass around a faded picture. There were sharp edges to her that would need to be navigated carefully, but if I could put it all together? I couldn’t even begin to describe how satisfying that would feel.
I frittered away the rest of the afternoon, but when the time to leave finally came, I left full of anticipation as I made my way to the gallery. And even though I arrived ten minutes early just in case, I found Corinne standing outside, looking at the black-and-white posters of zombie movies from the 1960s.
Her purple skirt fluttered around her knees as she turned to face me, her hair swept along with the strong pull of the breeze. For a second, I wondered if it would be awkward after this morning. But then she smiled, and it was all I could do not to close the space between us and kiss her hello.
Fisting my hands in my pockets instead, I said, “Hey there. You look beautiful.”
And she did. In her full skirt and short-sleeved white shirt and matching flats, she was adorably sweet and pure.
And don’t forget it, Coop.
“Thanks.” Her cheeks flushed a pretty pink. “You know, I was actually a little surprised you messaged me. Because of, well, the way I was this morning.”
“It’s in the past,” I said to reassure her. “Really.”
She nodded, though there was still a slight air of hesitation in her glance. “I’m really sorry for bugging you last night. I’m not usually a huge drinker like that, and it got out of hand. Thanks for picking me up.”
“Anytime. Really,” I said, my tone solemn, making sure she knew I meant it.
Her lips tipped into a relieved smile. “I appreciate it, Cooper. Let’s head in, okay?”
She stuffed her hands in the pockets of her skirt and I followed, opening the wide glass museum doors for her to step inside. As we walked in, I stopped at the ticket counter and purchased our tickets.
“Thank you, but it’s still not a date.” Corinne said.
“Definitely not a date.” I nodded in agreement. “Have you been here before?”
She smiled and nodded.
It wasn’t an exotic or strange place to go, but I was desperate to get her talking about something—anything that might tell me more about her.
“I came on a school trip once,” she said. “When I was young. One of my first placements.”
“Placements?” I asked, the back of my neck tensing. “Like what? A foster family?”
Her lips thinned, but she nodded again. “The family lived in this school district, and I came with my class.”
I wanted to wipe the pain in her expression away, hold her and tell her that I understood that kind of pain. Had lived through it. But instead, I focused on listening. I’d wanted her to talk to me. To open up. Now that she was, I wasn’t about to fuck it up.
“Did you like it there?”
“In the city or with the family?” she asked.
I considered this, leading her into the next room of displays. “Not sure. Both?”
“They were fine. I was with them for the better part of a year. Lots of kids there, though. More a halfway house than a home.”
“That sounds tough,” I said softly.
“I’m sorry. I’m sure this is all incredibly riveting for you.” She gave me a shy smile.
“I think you’re wrong about that. I want to know everything you want to tell me,” I admitted as we circled the room.
She looked a little surprised, and then chuckled. “Maybe another time. It’s not all that exciting.”
We stopped to survey a portrait of the cast of The Walking Dead, but as I scanned the photo, I got the impression Corinne was distracted, that something else was on her mind.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Yeah. It’s nothing.” She shrugged.
“It’s not nothing. You have a look on your face.”
“Then my face is lying,” she said teasingly, but it came out sounding hollow.
I didn’t say anything else, but I also didn’t look away.
Finally, she sighed. “Fine. Well, I was just thinking with all this talk about my childhood . . .” She shook her head. “It’s stupid.”
“Come on, spit it out. I promise I won’t laugh.”
“I’m not worried about you laughing,” she said. “I was just . . . well, I went out with Alyssa and Emma last night, and Emma mentioned that you had a rough childhood too. I was sort of curious.”
“She just mentioned that out of thin air, huh?” I raised my eyebrows, and Corinne glanced away.
“I may have asked about you, so I guess that’s the other reason I’m telling you about it. I feel a little bad for asking her, so I wanted to fess up.”
�
��I see.” I rocked back on my heels and then took another step toward her, strangely relieved that I wasn’t the only one in this weird relationship who wanted to know more about the other. The real, grimy, gritty stuff that mattered.
“And what is it you want to know about my childhood?” I asked carefully.
“I’m not sure. What do you want to tell me?”
“How about we trade? A detail for a detail,” I offered, feeling less restrained now that she’d been the one to broach the subject.
Corinne surveyed me warily, then finally nodded her head. “But no questions. Just fact for fact. Deal?”
The fear in her eyes was real and deep enough that it made my muscles tense with the caveman desire to find a time machine, go back twenty years, and tear somebody’s head off for putting that haunted look on her face. But I stuffed that feeling down and focused on present Corinne, the one standing in front of me, wanting to get to know me. The real me.
“Deal,” I said. “Rock, paper, scissors to determine who goes first?”
Her full lips twitched into a grin, and then we counted to three and drew our weapons. Rock for me, scissors for her.
Excellent.
“Best two out of three?”
“Nope.” I shook my head. “I won fair and square.”
She groaned. “Okay, fine. Um . . .” She rubbed absently at her chin as we strolled slowly around the museum. “When I was about ten, I lived with a family of all girls, and on Friday nights, we watched movies but they were always starring Shirley Temple. We were all too old for them, but the foster parents insisted on showing them, regardless of the fact that we wanted to watch Mary Kate and Ashley movies.”
“Sounds like a drag.”
She shrugged. “Actually, I have a weird appreciation for them now.”
“What’s your favorite?”
“The Little Princess,” she said softly.
It would be. A story of an orphaned girl who finds out that not only was she wealthy all along, but that her father was still alive. A fairy tale, if there ever was one.
“I’ve seen it. Good choice,” I said.
She seemed to shake off the bittersweet memory and smiled up at me expectantly. “Okay, fair is fair. Now, it’s your turn.”
