“You’re writers?”
“Not me,” Bess said, shaking her head. “But Jenna’s a published poet. Would you like to see one of her books?”
Jenna cheeks turned almost the same color as her hair. “Self-published. Vanity press,” she said, giving her mother a dirty look. “Boxes of unsold mouse fodder in the garage. Trust me--you don’t want to read it.”
“I’d like a book.”
“No, you wouldn’t.”
“I would.”
Bess walked to an antique table beneath an ornate oval mirror and triumphantly produced a slim hard-bound volume with a silk fabric cover. “I pulled this copy out of the garage last week. I was going to donate it to the school. I’ll get them another. Give it to him, dear. He’s a very nice man. He won’t laugh.”
Coop nearly winced. That backhanded compliment was something his mother would have said.
“Thank you,” he said. “I look forward to reading it.” The book fit nicely in the wide pocket on the side of his thigh. He finished tying his laces and stood. “Wow,” he said, wiggling his toes. “These feel great.”
Jenna seemed pleased with his response. She followed him to the door.
“Which way to Libby?”
She stepped onto the porch and pointed. “Keep going downhill till you get there.”
Downhill.
The word held ominous overtones. In the back of his mind was a little voice harping on the fact that he couldn’t succeed without his mother’s involvement in his career. Life as he knew it was over. But the fear that had been his constant companion for two months had lessened with each email from Libby. He honestly hadn’t felt the old gnawing acid in his belly since he'd first arrived in Sentinel Pass. He wanted to believe this was because he’d found a new focus, a positive project that would reward him financially and pull him back from the brink of bankruptcy and publicly humiliating headlines. But deep down he knew it was more than that.
He jumped off the bottom step and headed in the direction Jenna had pointed. He was going downhill to see Libby, and, frankly, he couldn’t wait to get there.
Chapter 11
After three days of clouds, a smattering of showers and a piercing wind that had delayed their hike by a day, Sunday morning had dawned clear and storm-free. The sky almost tasted blue, Coop thought, looking up as they emerged from a narrow corridor lined with skinny, white-bark aspen. The sonata created by the breeze stirring the shiny new leaves had precluded any need to talk, but he didn't want to be accused of lollygagging, so he hurried to keep up.
“We're going to have our picnic on the top of that ridge.” She pointed to a hill dotted with long-needle pines and an occasional outcropping of shale.
“Great," he said. "I'm getting hungry."
They'd been following the well-marked trail, which Libby had explained was used by hunters, Forest Service vehicles, and snowmobile enthusiasts in the winter, for a couple of miles. His left heel was beginning to rub on his boot, but he kept the complaint to himself.
He was breathing hard before they were even a third of the way up the incline.
"This is a lot steeper than it looks from the trail." He pressed his hand against the stitch in his side.
She waited for him to catch his breath. "The view will be worth it. I promise."
She was right. A few of minutes later, he completely forgot about his aching feet and dry throat as he looked around.
"Wow," he exclaimed, slowly turning in a circle. "You weren't kidding. This is gorgeous. You can practically see California from here."
That made her laugh. "Not quite. But you can see Signal Knob," she said, pointing. "And there's Harney Peak. It's the highest point between the Rockies and Switzerland."
“Did I tell you I visited the Great Wall of China last year? The view had nothing on this place. Of course, China is dealing with air pollution like you wouldn’t believe. The air here seems…pure.”
“Well, it did rain yesterday. That helps.”
She never seemed quite as enthused as he thought she should be about her state. Humility? Or did she take the place for granted?
“Do you know what I like best about the Black Hills?”
“What?”
“When I was in China, there were a couple of hundred tourists beside me. Here, I feel like we’re the last two people on the planet. Do you know what I mean?”
When Libby didn’t answer him, he pulled his gaze from the horizon to look at her. “I’m gushing, aren’t I? Sorry. This place just… Well, it’s surprised me.”
He felt stupid and wished he’d kept his mouth shut. His mother would have been shaking her head. Think before you speak, son. Do you want people to know you only have a G.E.D.?
“The Lakota considered this area sacred,” Libby said, stuffing her hands in the pocket of her black nylon Windbreaker. He’d tied his Dsquared jacket around his waist after following her orders to dress in layers, but even his long-sleeved white polo shirt was getting too warm with the sun bearing down on them. “Hiking these trails is almost a spiritual thing for me. I just didn’t expect it to affect you the same way.
Her words took the edge off his humiliation.
She motioned for him to follow her to a level spot fairly well protected from the crisp, steady breeze. “How long were you in China?”
“Four days. Two in Shanghai, two in Beijing. That’s not enough, believe me.”
“Why didn’t you stay longer?”
Because his mother had been in charge of his itinerary. A fifteen-hour flight each way, another flight between the two cities, delays at Customs, losing a day in transit…. He’d been so jet-lagged on his return he’d nearly been sick.
“I went there to film a commercial and had to get back to the show.” He and his mother had had a terrible fight about her pushing him beyond his limits.
You have to make hay, little Sir Sunshine. You’re not going to be young and gorgeous forever. This is your moment. You can sleep when you’re my age, Mom had argued, utterly unapologetic for subjecting him to the trip from hell.
“I wish I’d had more time there. I want to go back. What little I did see of the country was fascinating, and my guide was really knowledgeable. They attend guide college, you know. It’s a legitimate career.” He watched her remove several plastic containers and a bag of potato chips from her backpack. “Have you been there?”
“Me? Heavens, no. Jenna and I went to New York City with her mom when we graduated from high school. Saw a couple of musicals on Broadway. It was fun, but that’s about the extent of my travels aside from a few postal conventions. I haven’t even been to California.”
He used the wristband of his shirt to wipe a bead of sweat from his brow. “You’re kidding. Didn’t your family take vacations? Everybody goes to Disneyland, right?”
Now it was her turn to look embarrassed. He squatted beside her and took her hand. “I didn’t mean to sound judgmental. I’m just curious.”
She didn’t pull her hand free, but he could tell she was uncomfortable with him touching her. Tough. He wanted to know more about her, and she didn’t make it easy.
“We went to Yellowstone once. When I was five. I have a picture of my mom pushing me on a swing in front of a log cabin. She looked really thin and she had a scarf around her head, so I think she must have been taking chemotherapy. Someone wrote on the back ‘Libby in Yellowstone’ and the year.”
“I’ve been there. I think I was nine.” He thought a moment. “Yeah. That’s right. Mom and I were going to North Dakota to meet some of her family. We took the scenic route, but then she checked with my agent and found out I was up for a part that he forgot to tell her about. A big part. She was furious. We turned around and drove straight through, but the car broke down in some dusty little town in Utah. By the time the mechanic located the part he needed and got us back on the road, the film was already in production and I missed out on a chance of a lifetime.”
She pulled her hand free and unzipped
a side compartment of her nylon backpack to a couple of paper napkins. “It was a big one, huh?”
“E.T. Lucky break for Henry Thomas, not so good for me. Mom was livid. She fired my agent, sold her car and bought two tickets to the Big Apple. We lived there for a couple of years. I liked it. Went to a regular school most of the time. Made a few commercials. Eventually we came back.”
She looked up, eyes wide with surprise. They were close enough for him to see the tiny gold flecks in her irises. He’d never been around women who didn’t wear make-up, so seeing her thick, naturally curled eyelashes was strangely provocative.
“Do you ever wear mascara?”
She ducked her chin toward her chest. “Sometimes. If I’m going out. But not at work. Too much dust. And when I’m hiking, the sunscreen can get in my eyes. I’d turn into a smeary mess. Why?”
“Both of my exes would have walked naked down Rodeo Drive with a bag over their head before they’d consider stepping out of the house without being fully made-up. It occurred to me that you’re the most real person I’ve ever met.”
She made a dismissive sound. “And you thought I lead a sheltered life,” she said dryly. “Here. Help spread this out so we can eat. I’m hungry.”
She wasn’t really, but she needed to put some space between her and Cooper. He’d been crowding her all morning, both physically on the trail and emotionally by intruding on her peace of mind with questions she didn’t want to think about.
Makeup? What business was it of his if she didn’t know squat about how to doll up her looks? Was he implying she’d look better if she took more time with her appearance? Probably, but there was no way she could compete with the women of Hollywood. She’d been raised by a woman who had spurned her daughter-in-law’s attempt to sell Avon products as a waste of time and money. Whatever makeup had been left around after Nieva died, Gran had tossed out or given away. Despite Jenna’s attempt to teach Libby the subtle blending of eye shadow and sculpturing application of blush, Libby always felt like a little girl playing dress-up when she stood in front of a mirror with a mascara wand in hand.
And as for his question about her limited exposure to travel… Well, she didn’t have an answer. Gran had been many places. Florida. A cruise through the Panama Canal. She and Cal even ventured to Alaska a few summers ago. They’d invited Libby to join them, but she’d declined. She couldn’t remember why.
She loved to read books that took her to other places, but anytime someone suggested booking a group tour of some kind, she found an excuse to keep her here. Work. Family obligations. Her grandmother’s health. Money concerns. Planning for a baby.
She had a good job, a terrific retirement plan, benefits most people would kill for-–except for the dental, which sucked--and the respect of everyone who knew her. She hated the way Cooper Lindstrom made her question what she had…and want more.
She kneeled on the red and white checked plastic tablecloth she'd spread on the ground. Coop pitched in to make the corners flat, then he dropped into a sitting position, legs crossed.
"The drinks are in your pack, Coop."
He pulled the lightweight daypack she'd borrowed from Mac onto his lap. Mac and Megan had stopped by before dawn yesterday morning to tell her they were making a run to Denver to buy some diamond bits he needed and wouldn't be back until late Sunday night or early Monday morning. Usually Libby went with them when he needed mining supplies.
"I'm not a world traveler, but I do get to Denver about once a month," she said, apropos to nothing.
Coop leaned over to hand her a vacuum-sealed juice pack. "What do you do there? Shop? See a show? Go to dinner?"
“All of the above. Sometimes.” Mostly she helped drive and hung out with Megan at the Holiday Inn. “Megan and I went to the zoo once.”
“If she liked that, then she’d love the one in San Diego. It’s huge.”
“That’s in southern California, right? Cities don’t really interest me, but I’d love to see the ocean.”
“Do you like Denver? We held a tryout there a couple of seasons back. Bigger and more cosmopolitan than I’d expected.”
“It’s okay. Megan and I had high tea at the Brown Palace right before Christmas. The traffic and the push of shoppers made me feel claustrophobic. I always heave a huge sigh of relief when we get to the South Dakota state line. By the time we reach Edgemont, I’m feeling human again.”
He polished off his drink before she even opened hers, then he stretched out, throwing his forearm across his eyes to block the sun. His sunglasses were resting by her foot. She picked them up and tried them on. They felt substantial. And expensive. The lens color turned the world an off shade of amber, but the tone somehow sharpened every leaf.
No wonder people spend big bucks on these things.
When she noticed Cooper watching her, she jerked the glasses off. “Nice color,” she mumbled, reaching for a sandwich bag. “You have a choice of tuna salad or egg salad in pitas. They don’t get smashed as easy as bread.”
He rolled to his side and cocked his elbow to rest his head in his palm. “Egg salad, please. Screw the cholesterol.”
She handed him one of the four she’d prepared. “Does high cholesterol run in your family?”
“Apparently. Mom had a heart attack, despite the fact she was taking high-blood pressure pills. I had a physical last year, though, and the doctor said I was in tip-top shape.”
She had to agree with that. When he’d shown up at the post office in his new hiking boots and cuffed shorts with a sweatshirt tossed over one shoulder, she’d had to force herself to quit staring. Even Elana Grace, who ran the Tidbiscuit and was nearly Gran’s age, stopped complaining about the postage rate increase to gawk at him.
“How ‘bout you?” he asked.
She figured he had a right to full medical disclosure since they might have a child together. “Except for Gran--who is a medical marvel, according to Dr. Adrian, and might outlive us all--I can’t tell you much about our family health history. I saw a fertility specialist in January to find out if I could carry a child, and everything checked out.”
“Was there some reason to question that?”
“Mom had a miscarriage a couple of years after I was born. Gran thinks it had to do with her cancer, but that hadn’t been detected at the time, so I don’t know. I didn’t want to waste my time and effort if my fallopian tubes were kinked or something.”
“Logical,” he said, before sinking his teeth into the pita. He had perfect teeth. She wondered if they were capped or professionally bleached.
“What?” he asked.
“Huh?”
“You have a question to ask me. I can tell.”
“You can?”
He nodded. “I read nuances. It’s important to an actor to be able to get into a role. I’ve made a point of studying people’s faces.”
“Oh.” She found that unnerving.
“What do you want to know? You can ask me anything. Isn’t that what we’re supposed to be doing – finding out about each other?”
“Well, this isn’t relative in any way, but I wondered if you bleach your teeth.”
He sat up and smiled. His grin was infectious. “Not what I was expecting. Yes.” He ran his tongue back and forth under his upper lip. “These are expensively maintained, photo friendly toofies.” He flashed her a cheesy smile. “All except for this one. See?” He used his finger to expose his right canine tooth and leaned across the space between them. “Slightly tilted. Mom wouldn’t let the orthodontist touch it. She said the minor imperfection gave me character.”
Libby agreed. She liked that tooth. She’d noticed if before and wondered how it had managed to avoid being lassoed and corralled into line with the rest of the teeth. Impulsively she reached out and touched it. “She was right.”
He removed his hand and his bottom lip touched her finger. Just a tiny touch but one that made her heartbeat jump erratically. She sat back, shocked by the sudden heat that blossome
d between them. Was she imagining it or did he feel it, too?
He took in a ragged breath and crossed his legs, putting more distance between them. “Mom usually was right about things that had to do with business. She had a sixth sense where the television and film industry was concerned.”
She’d picked up on his carefully worded praise before. Just a hint of anger or some other emotion shadowed his tone when he talked about his mother. Had theirs been a love/hate relationship?
He gave a weighty sigh. “What now?”
Damn. She had to quit telegraphing her silent questions. “Tell me about her.”
He made a face that looked as though he’d eaten something sour. “I could, but aren’t we supposed to be meeting Jenna at some point today or tomorrow.”
His pithy tone was meant to be a joke, but she decided it hid his true desire not to talk about his mother. “Meaning your relationship is off-limits for conversation.”
“No. Meaning she was a complicated woman. We could discuss her quirks and foibles all day and all night and still probably not figure her out completely.”
“Well, in that case, you can talk while we walk.” She quickly packed up their leftovers and stood. She waited until he replaced his mostly empty water bottle in his pack then held out a hand to help him up.
One quick tug and he was upright. But he didn’t let go. In fact, he pulled her closer until their chests were almost touching. “It just occurred to me that we haven’t seen another soul for the past hour. Is it possible some cataclysmic tragedy wiped out humanity while our backs were turned and we’re the last two people on the planet?”
She gave into temptation and leaned closer – just for a heartbeat. “You have a wild imagination.”
“You could be right. I’ve imagined doing this ever since our last kiss.”
Black Hills Baby Page 14
