Meant to Be

by Maggie McGinnis

  “Funny.”

  He smiled, ducking. “Tell you what. Jasper’s trying to talk me into playing one of his open mic nights downtown. He’s recently resorted to bribery—a free week’s worth of coffee if I’ll come down and play.”

  “So are you taking the bribe?”

  “I don’t know yet. Haven’t really ever played in front of anyone.”

  “Really?” She paused, studying him. “I love that.”

  “Why?”

  She smiled, and he loved the quiet, peaceful feeling that smile gave him. “I don’t know. I just love that you’re okay with playing for nobody but yourself.”

  “I’m really just too chicken to play in front of anybody else.”

  She laughed. “The big, strong cowboy-slash-cop reveals a hidden fear?”

  “Hey—we all have them. I’m just comfortable enough with myself to admit mine.”

  “Of course. So what other fears do you have?”

  “Snakes.”

  She laughed again, pointing at herself. “Spiders for me. What else?”

  “Dark alleys. You?”

  “Rabid fans. Not always fun.”

  He nodded. “Armed felons. Those are overrated, as well.”

  “I can’t even imagine.” She shivered, then paused, searching his face. “Is that why you really left that job behind? Too many criminals, not enough time?”

  He was silent for a long moment, not sure what to say. “Not exactly.”

  “Why did you leave, Cooper? What happened back there?”

  Cooper’s stomach did the familiar twist at her question. “A lot of stuff you probably wouldn’t believe.”

  “Evasive answers for five hundred, Alex—as someone once said.” Her eyebrows went upward. “Pretty sure I spilled most of my guts to you the other night. It would only be fair for you to do the same.”

  Cooper sat down on her couch, pulling out his guitar. “I got sucked into a bad investigation. Ended up being accused of things I would never dream of doing, and had to dig my way back. But by the time I was cleared and the real bad guys were convicted, my name had been sullied pretty much beyond recovery.”

  “Oh, my God, Cooper. That’s the kind of stuff you see in movies.”

  “Not just in movies, unfortunately.”

  “I’m sorry.” She crossed her arms, like the thought of him being unjustly treated actually hurt her, and a flood of warmth hit his insides, right where the ice picks had resided for oh, so long. “Who were the real bad guys?”

  “Other officers in my department.” He sighed, leaving out the part about being related to the worst of them. “Former officers, now.”

  Just applying the title to them, even in the past tense, still killed him. They’d never deserved to wear a badge, let alone the same one he wore—the same one he’d turned in…twice.

  “What did they do?” Her voice was small, like she feared the answer, and he looked at her carefully, not sure he wanted to say. Crime scene pictures crept into his brain, just like they did during the nightmares that had plagued him for months.

  But she could easily look up Boston headlines and find the information herself. He just didn’t know which articles she’d come across first, and right now, he decided he’d rather be the one to steer the story so that she got the right version—the truth.

  “They took advantage of a very vulnerable population. Operated a prostitution ring with runaways.”

  Shelby’s hand flew to her mouth. “No.”

  “Yeah.” He nodded. “They got away with it for a good, long time, too.”

  “What happened? How’d they get caught?”

  “I was looking at some unsolved cases. I started connecting dots, and those dots started pointing in some incriminating directions. The guys involved got wind of the investigation heating up, and they decided to strike first. Planted evidence, got me accused, and did their best to cover their tracks before anyone could figure it all out.”

  “Thank God they didn’t succeed.”

  Cooper’s stomach sunk. Based on Lionel’s call, he guessed he didn’t know yet whether they actually had, damn it all.

  “Well, they succeeded enough. I was suspended for three months, and every paper and website in the city had me convicted. I couldn’t leave my apartment without a camera crew following, or—just…other things.”

  Other things, like the death threats.

  Cooper felt his heart rate speed up, remembering those horrible, dark, endless days…remembering the night he’d finally packed all he cared about into the trunk of his car and rolled out of his underground garage with the lights off.

  Remembering how it had felt to think maybe taking a psycho sniper’s bullet would actually be better than living the way he was living.

  “Oh, my God, Cooper.” She reached out and touched his arm, like she wasn’t sure she should, and it had been so damn long since someone had touched him with tenderness that he had to hold himself back from just hauling her into his arms and kissing the breath out of her.

  She seemed to feel it—seemed to debate herself for a long, long moment…and then she took a shaky breath. Her fingers on his arm turned from a light, sensitive caress to a fierce grip, in the span of a millisecond. And then she pulled herself down to the couch beside him, against his body—tight, hard, hungry—and slid her hands up to pull his head downward as he let the guitar slide to the floor.

  When his lips met hers, he almost pulled back as sparking, zapping energy arced between them. He’d always been in the driver’s seat. Always. But having Shelby take control of the moment—of his lips, of his body…of his mind—was a head rush like none he’d ever experienced.

  But then, as suddenly as she’d come toward him, she pulled back, eyes wide.

  “I’m so sorry.” She shook her head like she had no idea what had just happened. “I didn’t—I’m not—oh, God. This isn’t me.”

  He smiled, but kept his hands at his side. It killed him, but he somehow knew better than to reach for her.

  She pulled back on the couch, blood rushing to her cheeks as she twisted her hands together.

  “I can’t believe—I’m sorry.” She shook her head. “I really don’t go around mauling innocent men. Usually.”

  He looked at her hands, where one thumbnail looked like it was trying to scrape off the other one. He needed to let her off the hook, and now.

  “It’s the cowboy thing.”

  “Huh?”

  “It is.” He shrugged. “The guys talk about it, and I didn’t want to believe it, but Jesus, you women are powerless against the Stetson. What is it about this thing?”

  He pulled off his hat, staring at it like he was looking for the magnets, and she crossed her arms, setting her jaw in a half-amused, half-pissed position.

  “Yeah,” she finally said. “It’s the hat.” Then she rolled her eyes, giving it a flick with her fingers. “Are you going to ask for a reassignment now that I’ve tried to take advantage of you?”

  In her eyes he saw challenge, but also fear, and he didn’t quite know how to balance the two with his answer.

  “Do you want me to?”

  She laughed, almost bitterly. “Do I want you—one of about four people I’ve felt comfortable confiding in in ten freaking years—to quit? Um, no.”

  “Who are the other three?”

  “My father, his manager, and my assistant.”

  And Lexi, she almost added.

  Cooper tipped his head. “Seriously? What about your friends?” Had she any friends?

  “The people who surround me are on my payroll, Cooper. I’ve been on the road for twelve years as Tara Gibson, and I spent the sixteen years before that in my father’s bus. I never went to school, I never lived in a dorm, I never had a first job where you go out to lunch on Fridays to complain about the boss.

  “Until I was old enough to know better, I thought all of those people around me were my friends. Imagine my surprise when I found out their job was to keep me happy,
keep me dressed, keep me hydrated, keep me toned.”

  “I’m…sorry.” He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t remotely relate. He might have been put through the meat grinder back in Boston, but he did have guys who had his back. They just weren’t on the force. They hadn’t been able to do much besides buy him beers and serve as character references, but they’d been there.

  “It’s just the way it is. A different kind of life.”

  “So if I asked you right now who your best friend is, what would you say?”

  “I’d say I don’t have one.” She shrugged. “I don’t really know what it feels like to be able to answer that question.”

  “And you don’t feel—I don’t know—sad about that?”

  “Are you kidding?” Her eyes went wide. “Of course I do. What twenty-eight-year-old doesn’t have friends? It’s pathetic.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “Yes, Cooper, it is. But guess what? For my entire life, I’ve been surrounded by the possibility that if I let somebody get too close, my last shreds of privacy could be shattered in an instant. Do you have any idea how hard it is to tell the difference between someone who honestly gives a hoot about you and somebody who wants a good story? Or a free vacation? Or sex with a pop star?” She shivered, making a face. “Sorry. No, of course you wouldn’t know.”

  He sat back against the cushions, feigning a relaxation he didn’t feel. “I might know more than a little about the posers of the universe. I almost married one.”

  Her head swung around. “There really was a fiancée?”

  “Not quite, but almost. She’d picked out a ring, sometime along.” He rolled his eyes.

  “Did you love her?”

  “I thought I did. Thought I’d hit the jackpot, you know? Here she was, all hot model on the outside and sweet, shy girl on the inside.”

  “Cooper?” Shelby grimaced. “I just kissed you. Maybe we keep the physical descriptions to a minimum?”

  “Sorry. Anyway.” He took a deep breath. “She turned out to be as shallow as a tide pool, and as soon as the news broke about the investigation, off she went.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Dead serious. She said she couldn’t risk her professional reputation being sullied by a relationship with a crooked cop.”

  He winced as the words came out of his mouth, hearing them blurting out of hers as she’d packed that night.

  Shelby leaned back against the arm of the couch, crossing her arms as she studied him. Then she nodded slowly as if an idea had just come to her.

  “You have terrible taste in women.”

  “Noted. Agreed.” Mostly.

  “I could help you with that.”

  He felt his eyebrows come together. “What does that mean?”

  “I may not have friends, but I do have eyes, and I’ve spent a lot of years people-watching. Makes for good songwriting. I could teach you a few things.”

  “About…songwriting?” He knew that’s not what she meant.

  “About women.”

  “No offense, Shelby, but I’m not sure I need that sort of help. Or would admit it, if I did.”

  And just checking here, but did I imagine the heat we just sparked? But now you’re offering to help me with…women?

  She put her hands on her hips. “Seriously? You’re turning town free female advice from the waning queen of the pop charts? I know all the things. They’re right there in my lyrics.”

  “Lord help me.” He laughed carefully. “If those teen lyrics are your advice, then I might just ask Kyla for that reassignment. Now.”

  “Too bad. I’ll pitch a fit, and she’ll have to keep you here so her celebrity VIP is happy.” She leaned down to put his guitar back in its case. “We can write another time. Let’s go downtown and people-watch.”

  Cooper looked at her—at the shaky hands and the pink, embarrassed spots on her cheeks—and he realized that he hadn’t imagined their heat. No way. She’d felt it just as hard as he had, but she didn’t know what to do with it.

  So instead of dealing with it, she was trying for an exit.

  But at least she wasn’t trying to leave without him. For now, he could be okay with that. He could follow her downtown, and he could pretend to take in her advice…and he could be patient. He could definitely be patient.

  But he could still pretend to be doing it under duress.

  She grabbed his hand and headed for the door, laughing when she looked at his face. “Stop looking pained. I’m not that bad to spend time with.”

  He took a deep breath and let her pull him outside, briefly stopping to wonder if he should mention she’d forgotten her big hat…then figuring if she wasn’t thinking about it, he wasn’t going to remind her.

  And as they headed down the hill toward the main lodge and parking lot, he allowed himself a small smile of victory.

  Not only had he gotten her out of her cabin and her own head…she’d actually led the way.

  Chapter 17

  “See? Now that one there is hoping everybody’s looking.” An hour later, Shelby used her chin to point toward a woman on the sidewalk, and Cooper followed her gaze, shaking his head.

  “And you know this how?”

  “Watch her as she walks by the bakery.”

  The woman slowed at Jenny’s window, peering in and smiling when she saw the stacks of sweet sugar arranged as only Jenny could do.

  “Okay?” He shrugged. “She walked by the bakery. She slowed down to check out the donuts. Surely you can relate.”

  “She wasn’t looking at the donuts. She was looking at her reflection.”

  “And you know this how?”

  Shelby pointed again. “Watch her go by the hardware store. And you tell me if garden rakes are as intriguing as she’s going to make them look in a minute.”

  Cooper rolled his eyes, but watched the woman pull the same slow-down-smile-straighten-shoulders maneuver in front of the…rakes.

  “Am I wrong?” Shelby licked her ice cream cone, sitting back comfortably in the metal chair outside the Scoop de Loop shop. “Extreme self-absorption wrapped in a pretty package. I imagine you’ve been introduced to the type?”

  “Fine.” He sighed. “I’ll give you that one, but it was kind of a giveaway.”

  “Okay, point to anyone you see, and I’ll try again.”

  Cooper looked around for someone he knew. Just then, an older woman came out of the salon next to Jenny’s bakery. It was Bess, who lived in a cabin at Whisper Creek with her husband, Roscoe. He had Alzheimer’s—like Lexi’s mom—and the Driscolls had taken them both in last year when Roscoe’s care had gotten too intense for Bess to handle on her own.

  “That woman there, in front of the salon.” He pointed. “Go.”

  Shelby studied Bess, and he watched her face as her eyes looked up and down, then back at him. “She’s a little old for you.”

  He laughed. “We’re not finding me a woman here. You’re teaching me about women. Wasn’t that your plan?”

  “Fine.” She rolled her eyes. “She’s a caretaker, she’s very practical and sweet, and she loves her new hairdo, but she’s afraid nobody will notice it. She’s happy, but she’s sad, too.”

  He felt his jaw drop. She’d just described Bess to a T. “How’d you get that, from what you’re seeing?”

  “Because her clothes are probably from a discount-type store, and her purse is no-frills standard issue. Everyone who’s passed has smiled and waved like they know and like her. I’d bet twenty bucks it’s been eons since she got her hair done, because she keeps touching it, which means it feels really different to her. And as soon as she left the salon, she pulled out a list that made her take a deep breath…and made her face drop. So her half hour of pampering ends with a long list of stuff she needs to get and do for other people. My guess, anyway.”

  “Huh.” Cooper studied her, both amused and mystified by a woman who—by her own accounts—had very little personal contact with people beyond the circl
e of humans hired to package her up for public consumption.

  There was a lot more to Shelby Quinn than people realized. That he could guarantee.

  Shelby bit into her cone with a satisfying crunch, not meeting his eyes. “But that’s just me guessing. Let’s try somebody your own age, shall we?”

  “No.” He ate the last of his own cone. “You’re scary at this. Let’s go check out the music store. It’s my favorite place downtown, except for Jasper’s.”

  “Better idea.” She put up a finger. “Jasper’s coffee first, then the music store.”

  —

  Ten minutes later, armed with fresh coffees, they walked into Off the Beat-en Path, and Cooper smiled when he saw Shelby breathe deeply. Liam carried instruments, sheet music, and a curated selection of old vinyl in the back, which he showed only to people he trusted to treat them with the respect he thought they deserved.

  “Smells like Heaven,” Shelby said, walking over to the display of guitars like she couldn’t help it.

  “Don’t touch.” Cooper cringed as she reached out. “Five-four-three-two—”

  “Hey!” A deep voice came from the back of the store, making Shelby jump like someone had poked her with a sharp stick. “Hands off my women.”

  “Told ya,” Cooper whispered, then turned around to greet Liam, whose smile went wide once he realized his sacred space hadn’t been invaded by random tourists pawing his merchandise with no intention of buying it.

  “Cooper! Haven’t seen you in here in ages!” He stuck out a hand and gripped Cooper’s hard. “They keeping you busy out there at Whisper Creek?”

  “Always.” Cooper turned to Shelby. “Liam, this is Shelby. She’s staying at the ranch for a little while.”

  “Shelby.” Liam took her outstretched hand in both of his, and Cooper had to tamp down a spark of jealousy when Shelby smiled sweetly up at him. “Good to meet you.”

  “Thank you.” She pulled her hand back. “You have some beautiful instruments in here.”

  “Better believe it.” Liam sized her up for a second, which Cooper had known he’d do. “Which one do you like best?”

  Shelby looked at the collection of guitars displayed neatly on the wall, scanning left to right, right to left. Cooper held his breath as she perused them, wishing he knew what answer Liam was hoping to hear.