“I know.” She rolled her eyes. “Sorry.”
“Eh, I’m sure you’ll tell me eventually.”
“Don’t count on it. I’m under strict orders not to reveal my true identity here.”
She closed her eyes like she’d said yet another thing she hadn’t meant to, and he knew he was about six questions out from guessing her true identity. He just didn’t know if he wanted to guess it before she felt comfortable telling him.
“True identity. Huh.” He rocked his chair back on two legs. “Which means Shelby is your cover. And it also means you must be famous.”
Fine. He’d give her the opening to just admit it and save them some time here.
She wrinkled her nose. “I never said that.”
“Witness protection?”
“Definitely not that.” She laughed, then sobered quickly. “You really have no idea who I am?”
“Not the slightest clue.”
“Huh.” She smiled like that was the best news she’d heard all day. “Is there, like, no media out here?”
He pointed, winking. “Ha. So you are famous.”
She narrowed her eyes, then closed them with a growl. “I totally walked into that one. Can’t even blame your cop interrogation techniques.”
“Nope.”
“Dammit.”
“But you come without a bodyguard, an entourage, or even a quirky, not-paid-nearly-enough assistant. So it begs some questions.”
“Everything begs some questions for you, I fear.”
“Job hazard.” He frowned. “Old job.”
She looked at him for a long moment, like she really was weighing whether to tell him her true deal, and he half held his breath, hoping she would. But then she shook her head slightly, looking downward as she scraped at the polish on her thumbnail.
“Just—don’t take it personally that I’m doing the closed-book thing. I don’t really have a choice right now.”
“Okay,” he said, and she looked back up, a glimmer of surprise in her eyes. He shrugged in response. “I get it. I mean—you’re probably the crown princess of some tropical island nation hardly anyone’s ever heard of. There was a terrible coup, and now you’re on the run, in hiding until the rebels can be contained so you can go home and rule your minions.”
“Wow. Apparently my security people are crap, if you guessed it that easily.”
He pointed to his head. “Cop brain.”
“So if all that were true—and I’m not saying it’s not—don’t you think I’d have somebody with me? Like, to guard the crown jewels and all?”
“Nah. Better that you play the part of the left-at-the-altar honeymooner or whatever. Then you get the sympathy without the abject curiosity.”
“I see.” She smiled like she’d just figured something out. “And I’ll try not to mention that the left-at-the-altar shtick is your cover story, not mine.”
“What? No. Not a cover story.” He lifted his beer and frowned. “Real story.”
“Mm-hm.” She raised her eyebrows. “And the description you gave an hour ago of that hillside right there? The one where you described exactly how it looked this spring when you got here?”
Shit.
He sighed. “Fine. I’ve been here longer than that. Obviously.”
She crossed her arms, and he could see possibilities flying through her brain at warp speed. Some of them should have scared her, he imagined, but she didn’t look frightened. Just…sort of mildly amused.
“How long?”
“Three months.”
She nodded. “That’s a long time to recover from someone else’s cold feet.”
“They were exceedingly freezing.”
“I’m going to google you, y’know. So if you’re really a rogue reporter or trained assassin or something, I’m going to find out. You might as well ’fess up.”
His gut clenched at the thought of her plugging his name into a search engine. “If I’m a trained assassin, I’m not very good at my job. Also pretty sure those don’t come up in your average Google search. Just saying.”
“True.”
“Seriously, I’m just a guy who took some wrong turns, so I’m out here figuring out what comes next. That’s as exciting as it gets.”
“I doubt it.”
“We can’t all be fleeing princesses.”
She laughed, then took a deep breath, studying him. He could see thoughts passing over her face at a hundred miles an hour, like she was dying to tell him the truth about why she was actually here…but knew there’d be consequences.
There wouldn’t be—at least in his mind—but if she was a celebrity of any kind, he knew she’d be picturing buzzing helicopters filled with paparazzi if she said too much to a practical stranger—one who, in her mind, could very well be one of those slimy reporters.
“Listen,” he said. “If you’re not a princess in exile, I still have a feeling you’re a somebody-in-exile. Probably a somebody with a capital S. Probably a somebody who—if I ever turned on a television or read a magazine—I might even recognize. And I don’t know why you’re here, or what happened before you came, or what’ll happen when you leave, but while you’re here? We’ve got your back.”
Shelby’s eyes narrowed like she was clicking puzzle pieces into place. “So you’re really an ex-cop—emphasis on ex?”
“Yes.”
“And you somehow found your way to a Montana ranch.”
“I’d tell you how, but it’s a little pathetic.”
She nodded slowly. “So…you work here, don’t you?”
“I…do. For now.”
“Doing what? Besides lying to guests?”
Ouch. But he deserved it, obviously.
“Horse training, mostly. But I help out with the lessons and rides when they need extra hands.”
“And did they run out of room in the bunkhouse? Or do the cowboys draw straws for the honeymoon cabin if it’s empty?”
He laughed. “Have you seen this cabin? It’s a cowboy’s nightmare.”
“Sure.” She rolled her eyes, but he could almost feel her biting her lip so she wouldn’t smile.
“Dead serious. There’s lace everywhere, and hearts and flowers and crap. There’s a Jacuzzi tub in there that’s big enough for a horse. Everything smells like roses—which I hate, by the way—and it’s stocked with champagne and chocolate and bubble bath.” He shivered. “Nightmare.”
“Horrors! So how’d you end up living in it?”
Cooper sighed, weighing the consequences of just giving up on the cover story and telling her the truth. On one hand, she could be royally pissed off, finding out he’d been assigned to essentially play babysitter. On the other, maybe it would make her feel less defensive to know somebody besides herself had her back.
If he’d known her longer than a few days, he might have a frigging clue which side of the coin she’d come down on.
“Okay, here’s the truth.”
The words were out before he had a chance to finish deciding whether he was even going to tell her the truth, dammit. And now he had to.
She hugged her midsection even tighter, but he could tell she was trying damn hard not to let him see her do it.
“Truth number one—Kyla asked me to keep an eye on you and give you a hand if you need one.” He’d leave out the buddy concept for now, because there was a pretty good chance this might be the last conversation he was ever going to have with Shelby, if the whole truth thing didn’t go well.
“And truth number two—I actually have no idea who you are.”
Her eyebrows furrowed, but he saw two fingers loosen on her midsection. “Right.”
“Dead serious. All I know is that your name is Shelby, and you’re some sort of celebrity. I don’t even know if that’s your real name. And I’ll be damned if I have a clue whether you’re some sort of mega–movie star, a senator, or the front man on a sold-out rock tour.”
“Front woman.” She put up a hand. “Just saying. If that w
as true.”
“Sorry. That’s what I meant.” He raised his eyebrows. “So is that what you are? Rock goddess?”
She closed her eyes like his words had blades. “Um, no.”
“Actress?”
“Actor’s the preferred term.” She shook her head. “But no.”
“I’m not getting a senatorial vibe. Sorry.”
“Why not?”
“Are you? A political sort?”
She smiled. “No. But I resent your assumption that I’m not.”
“It’s the teeth. Sorry.”
“What?” She put her fingers over her mouth. “What about my teeth?”
Cooper closed his eyes. He could really use a better self-censor button.
“They’re just—you know—really white. And perfect.”
“I…see.” She dropped her hand slowly. “And politician teeth, on the other hand?”
“Can we just forget I mentioned the word teeth? Please?”
She smiled, shaking her head. “Absolutely.”
“So what movies have you been in?”
“Nice try.”
He shrugged, sighing. “If it matters at all, I’m pretty good at subterfuge and secret-keeping. Then there’s the whole cop-client privilege thing. You can totally spill. I’ll never tell.”
“It’s attorney-client privilege. And I’m pretty sure subterfuge isn’t a skill they teach at the academy.”
“Because you’ve already caught me in my own lies?”
She laughed. “Maybe.”
“So…should we go with the foreign-princess thing, then?”
He saw relief cross her face even as she rolled her eyes. “Yeah. Terrible coup. Hiding out in Montana until it’s safe to go home. Exactly.”
“Okay.” He waited for a few beats, then stood up and made himself busy shutting the grill and gathering things to take back inside. It was easier than looking into those green eyes that flashed from happy to sad in an instant. Easier than feeling desperate to make the happy part last longer.
“Cooper?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.” She shrugged slowly. “For not pushing.”
“No problem, princess.” He tipped his hat. “But I’m a pretty good listener, if you ever want to talk.”
“Maybe after I google you.”
His gut froze. “Well, if you do, just remember I have—you know—a pretty common name and all.”
“So any deep, dark secrets I uncover? Probably the other guy?”
“Definitely.” Cooper turned away, feeling his shoulders fall in defeat. From now on, this was going to be his life. “Yeah, definitely.”
Chapter 8
The next morning, Shelby woke up from a dream where she was riding double on a huge horse, galloping through the valley she’d spotted from the truck on her way here. She’d been laughing, and Cooper’s arms had been around her, holding the reins. She’d felt safe. She’d felt…happy.
Then she opened her eyes, and reality crashed in, just like it always did at this hour. She rubbed her chest, where the ache had already settled uncomfortably in for the day, and she tried not to picture Daddy making chocolate chip pancakes, or reading the paper, or strumming quietly on his guitar in the next room.
She tried not to picture him on the other end of the phone the night before the crash, promising to fly out and help her figure out how to survive another six months on the road.
She tried not to picture him packing his black duffel, tried not to smell the aftershave that had leaked in that bag two years ago, tried not to hear the sound of the zippers as he finished.
And then she tried not to picture him boarding a tiny plane in terrible weather, knowing he shouldn’t, but knowing his daughter needed him.
It didn’t work, and as she pushed herself out of bed, she swiped at the tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes.
The day stretched out before her, endless. Here she was in the most beautiful country she’d ever seen besides Tennessee, with an entire ranch at her disposal, and she just felt…blank. Numb. She could ride, she could hike, she could read, she could maybe try to write…but she couldn’t care less about any of those things.
A knock on her door had her reaching blindly for the shorts she’d had on yesterday. Who in the world showed up at the crack of—she looked at the bedside clock—eleven o’clock? Really? That meant she’d actually…slept.
She ran her fingers through her hair, then headed for the front door. A redhead with a tentative smile greeted Shelby when she cracked it open.
“Hi, Shelby. I’m Lexi, the nurse here.” She fluttered her fingers nervously. “I just wanted to introduce myself and let you know that if you need anything—you know—medical-ish while you’re here, my office is over in the spa building.”
Lexi pointed beyond the lodge to another log structure that looked like it had been built right into the hillside. Huge windows covered its western-facing side, and Shelby imagined the sunsets must be stunning from inside.
“Thanks, Lexi.”
“So, yeah. I have—you know—aspirin and ibuprofen and cough syrup and crutches.” She shrugged. “The standard. If you need anything. Which I hope you don’t. I mean, not because I wouldn’t want you to come down there to ask. I mean, just…because I don’t want you to get sick…or hurt.” She cringed as she babbled, and Shelby couldn’t help but smile at her sweet awkwardness.
“Thank you.”
“Oh, and also! My friend Jess teaches yoga here, and she asked me to tell you she’d love to see you at a class, if that’s your thing. She runs them all day long down there.”
Shelby felt her jaw tense. Nicola would kill her if she knew Shelby had joined the other resort guests for a class, especially one where she could be photographed actually—gah—sweating.
She forced a smile. “I’m not really much of a yoga person, but I appreciate it.”
“Okay.” Lexi nodded like she’d expected that answer. “But just in case it matters, Jess’s yoga is like none other. She’s made believers out of a gazillion people around here.”
Shelby kept her smile pasted on, picturing a bouncy blond woman with impossibly tight abs smiling blissfully as she urged her followers to find the light.
“You never know,” she finally said, because it seemed more polite than shutting Lexi down.
“Great!” Lexi smiled, bouncing her shoulders quickly. “Well, I’ll leave you alone, but seriously, if you need anything, just let me know. I’m just a hop and a skip over there.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
“And I have tea! I mean, if you drink tea. Jess has the best kind—she imports it from Boston. She said it was the one thing she couldn’t leave behind.”
At the name of the city, Shelby felt a little startle in her gut. Cooper hailed from Boston. Had he and Jess known each other there?
“She’s from Boston?”
“Yup! Kyla and Hayley, too—you’ll meet her one of these days. She’s our vet. They were all city girls. I’m from back East, too. Maine, actually.”
“Wow. What brought you all out here?”
Lexi laughed. “Cowboys.”
“Oh-h.” Shelby cringed, picturing Cooper last night, legs stretched out on a cooler as he’d tipped his Stetson low against the setting sun.
“You probably haven’t seen very many of them, if you’ve been holed up in your cabin, but I highly recommend coming out once in a while to take a peek. There’s, um, very good scenery here.” Lexi winked. “Have you seen the calendar?”
Shelby pictured the model-perfect pretend cowboys on the calendar in her cabin’s kitchen. “Yeah, I’ve seen it.”
“Did you know they all work here?”
“Kyla mentioned that, but I’m still skeptical.”
Lexi laughed. “Believe it. Go get it. I’ll tell you who they are.” She winked. “And which ones aren’t married.”
Shelby paused. Lexi seemed so…normal. Friendly, open, fun. Like someone she could be friends
with, given the chance to do something normal like have a friend who wasn’t on LolliPop’s payroll.
Lexi looked toward the spa. “Hey—actually, Jess and I are going to have a cup of tea before her next class. Want to come over and join us?”
“Um…” Shelby scanned the pathways, which were scattered with people coming and going from the barns and lodge. Part of her really wanted to accept, but Nic’s warning voice crowed loudly in her ear. “I actually—there are some things I need to get done this morning. But thank you. Maybe another time?”
“Sure.” Lexi smiled, but it was a little forced, and Shelby kicked herself internally as Lexi closed the door and headed back down the steps. “See you around.”
Shelby could have accepted the invitation. She could have. One hat and one pair of big sunglasses, and she could have walked over to the spa without anyone having a clue who she was. She could have enjoyed a mug of tea with two women who could maybe, possibly have turned into…friends, if she even knew what that really meant.
She sighed as she watched Lexi walk back down the pathway, a new pit in her stomach gnawing wide. Because really, she didn’t have the first clue how to navigate relationships with people who weren’t on her payroll. She’d never had time to be with anyone who wasn’t part of her touring circle.
Yes, she sighed, at the ripe old age of twenty-eight, she didn’t even know how to make a friend.
—
“Ride?”
Shelby couldn’t help but smile as she looked out her screen door an hour later to see Cooper waiting on her porch with a white Stetson and goofy hot-pink sunglasses in his hands. His eyebrows were high, daring her to refuse.
“Don’t say you’re busy, because I’ve looked out my window ten times this morning, and all you’ve done is sit on your butt on that back porch, staring at your coffee.” He paused. “Did you learn to make coffee, by the way?”
“Very funny.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m perfectly capable of making coffee.”
“Just not food. Gotcha.” He held the hat higher. “So, ride?”
“What’s with the wacky glasses?”
“Well, I figure the only reason you’d spend so much time out on the stoop of a back porch, instead of on a perfectly good front one with actual chairs, is that you don’t want to be seen. And, as the exiled princess of Neverlandia, I get it. So I had a couple of my contacts arrange for this fantastic disguise.”
Meant to Be Page 7
