But mean…what exactly?
He looked away, then looked at her again, and felt his pulse kick into even higher gear. Damn, it was simple.
She electrified him.
And he had to figure out exactly what he wanted to do about that. Shane had suggested they go out, but Cooper didn’t know if that was truly required—not to mention the minor fact that she’d said she wasn’t into dating.
Which was a little odd, as well as was the idea that he liked the assertion. Knowing she didn’t have a calendar scheduled with coffees, lunches, and dinners seemed to placate this primal beast he’d just discovered inside himself.
She’s mine, the beast growled, and Cooper took a quick glance around to make sure the sound wasn’t one of his buddies playing a prank on him. Christ, this was unsettling. He just didn’t go caveman. Previously, his attentions and affections were of the short and surface variety. Never had he been so…interested.
He went to rub the back of his neck, and realizing there was a cup of beer in his hand, instead took a long, grateful swallow. This situation needed to be neutralized, that’s all there was to it. Maybe just hanging around her for a short while would work. Breathe her in, watch her expressions change, hear her laugh in this pleasant backyard surrounded by friends. Then all these jumping-bean impulses he’d been experiencing would calm and they could head off on their separate life paths.
He mulled the idea a moment longer and then decided the plan seemed sound. So, okay. Time to go to her.
In any case, he couldn’t just leave her standing there, looking a little uncertain, as well as more than a little beautiful. He’d extended the invitation, after all. Sucking in a bracing breath, he started in her direction—
Only to see Shane amble up to Willow, relaxed and welcoming, his hand extended. That smile of hers bloomed. Maybe not the biggest show of curved lips and white teeth he’d ever witnessed, but big enough that Cooper imagined his longtime friend was employing his laid-back drawl and some kind words to put her at ease.
Bastard.
He’d already promised himself Raf wasn’t getting anywhere near Willow, now he thought he’d better extend the ban to the ladies’ man’s surfer-cool half-brother. Narrowing his eyes, he took another step forward.
“Hey, hold up.”
Cooper’s head swung around, Hart’s voice checking his movement. He saw the other man approaching, his hands in the pockets of worn jeans, his T-shirt hanging off his shoulders. Shit, the guy needed to eat more.
“What’s up?” he asked.
Hart shrugged. “I was wondering about Sophie,” he said. “She isn’t here.”
“Oh.” Cooper surveyed the yard, allowing his gaze to linger an extra moment on Willow and Shane, still in conversation. But yeah, his sister didn’t seem to be part of the crowd. “I don’t know where she is.”
“Maybe she has a date?”
“I don’t know about that either.” God, his friend looked tired as well as too thin. This was the first event outside of poker night that he’d hosted since losing his fiancée. Today, caught up in his own thoughts, Cooper hadn’t paid much attention to him, other than to notice he’d been standing in the corner by the barbecue, as if they were a couple.
What a shit friend he was.
He sidled closer to Hart and lowered his voice. “Are you okay?” It was always hard to know what to say, and time hadn’t conferred upon Cooper any special comforting skills. Clearly he was way out of his depth in understanding the other man’s anguish.
“I’m fine. I was just wondering about Sophie.”
“Maybe she has a catering gig,” Cooper offered.
“Maybe.” Hart hesitated. “I texted her earlier in the week to see if she wanted to catch a movie, but she told me she couldn’t make it.”
“I would have gone to the movies with you,” Cooper said, silently cursing his sister.
A rueful smile quirked Hart’s mouth. “I was sorta hoping she’d take it as an opportunity to bring me some of her minestrone soup or that breakfast casserole she makes.”
Damn Sophie. She was going to be hearing from her big brother. But for now…
“Come on,” he said. “I’ve got a duty to greet the designer I invited and if I’m not mistaken, that’s a bowl of potato salad she’s holding. We’ll get you a big spoonful of that and more.”
By the time they made it to her, however, someone had whisked away the side dish. She stood in the same place, though, and remained in conversation with Shane.
Raf had joined his half brother.
Cooper bared his teeth at both of them, but directed his remarks to Willow. “Hello. You made it.”
“I did. Thanks for including me.” She smiled at him and then offered one to Hart as well.
Their host reciprocated. “Glad to have you join us,” he said.
“We’ve been telling her about the misadventures of our youth.” Shane wore a stupid grin.
“A haunted house experience gone awry.” Willow switched her gaze to Cooper. “You stole the scythe from the Grim Reaper’s hand?”
“He was scaring my sister,” he muttered. “Told her he was going to chop off her hair.”
Willow shuddered. “That’s creepy. You’re a hero.”
“What?” Raf punched Cooper in the arm. “Tell her the whole truth, how you then escaped out the rear exit and sprinted down the street, leaving the rest of us behind to handle a pissed-off Frankenstein, a raving asylum escapee, and an evil clown.”
“That Grim Reaper was chasing me,” Cooper said defensively. “Not to mention Scooby-Doo.”
Willow laughed, her small hand covering her mouth. “Well, Scooby-Doo. That explains it.”
He shot a finger at her. “He was an all-state lineman on the high school football team. I was a skinny thirteen-year-old dressed like Where’s Waldo.”
She started laughing harder. “I wish I could have seen that.”
“We have photos,” Shane said helpfully.
Cooper glared. “Those were destroyed years ago.”
“Not the ones with your nose dripping blood after Scooby caught up with you.”
Ignoring his friend, Cooper hooked his hand in the crook of the designer’s elbow, pretending not to feel the shock caused by his palm contacting her arm’s soft inner skin. “Ignore the surfer-dude. I’m here to take you to the buffet table.”
“Okay,” she said, the sweetest smirk still curving her fascinating mouth, “Waldo.”
“You come too, Hart,” he added, sending his friend a speaking glance. The guy needed to eat, for sure, but he also could prove himself useful by acting as safeguard between Cooper and Willow, just in case.
Just in case he shouldn’t be alone with her.
A few minutes later, he knew he shouldn’t be alone with her. Even as they stood together beside a surface laden with plates and trays and bowls, people all around them, Hart right there carrying the conversational football about the turkey kabobs and quinoa salad, Cooper was aware of Willow and Willow alone.
His attention didn’t wander from her small hands on a pair of tongs, choosing napkin-wrapped utensils, passing him his own bundle. Like he imagined, he could smell her, a delicate, pink-flower fragrance that he thought came from her skin. When she swept her hair over her shoulder he was certain—that shiny stuff released the faintest scent of honey.
He basked in the scent of her, in the sound of her voice answering Hart’s questions, breathing deep like a child in a bakery, pleasantly buzzed by her mere presence.
“…Coop?”
Starting, he focused on Hart’s face. “What?” he asked, sounding dim-witted. He looked down, amazed to find his plate filled with choices he didn’t recall making. “I have food.”
A sudden smile lit his old friend’s face. Shit, he looked the happiest Cooper had seen him in months.
“What?” he asked again.
“Nothing.” The other man dipped his chin and shook his head a little, that smile still in dazz
ling evidence.
Could it be that Willow had bewitched Hart too?
Maybe that would be good, Cooper told himself, following the pair toward some free spots on a bench pulled up to a picnic table. His grieving buddy would have to get back into the man-woman thing sooner or later. Sooner could start today.
They sat down, Willow and Hart elbow-to-elbow, Cooper across from the designer. Their knees bumped and he nobly dismissed the notion of her naked skin and shifted his legs.
If sooner started today, then some future day perhaps Cooper could claim he’d had a hand in the building of a new twosome. Willow and Hart with a healed…well, heart.
“Cooper.”
His head shot up. His old friend was talking to him again. Damn, he kept losing the tail of the conversation. “Yeah. Sorry. What was that?”
“I was asking Willow about her high school,” the other man replied. “Don’t we know some people who went to Curry?”
In the next town over, where the designer had grown up. “Let me think…”
“I didn’t socialize much,” Willow put in. “No one would remember me.”
Cooper cocked his head. With her exceptionally pretty features, she wouldn’t have gone unnoticed. “They all knew you, saw you, I promise that.”
“I didn’t want them to know me,” she said, her gaze turning downward to focus on her plate.
Prying wasn’t in his nature. A guy who dug was a guy who got himself buried, right? Stuck. For the next few minutes, he reminded himself of that fact as they applied themselves to their food, the other two resorting to chitchat again. Then someone hailed Hart, shouting for more ice, and the host excused himself, leaving his maybe-future-love alone with Cooper, the rest of the seats at the table now unoccupied as well.
So the question on the tip of his tongue tumbled out of him, without his safeguard or any other familiar faces to remind him he was the kind of man who didn’t get personal with women.
“You didn’t want them to know you…why?” he asked. That bubble had circled them again, the one that let in light and air but barred the intrusion of others, noise, common sense.
“It’s…I…” She sucked in a breath, and even smiled a little. “My bio mother struggled taking care of me. So I went into the foster care system at twelve.”
Did he say he was shit at comfort-talk? “Oh. Willow—”
“I ended up in a great situation. My foster mom and I are still very close and it’s why I moved to Sawyer Beach. She’s here now. But it was tough at first, being a foster kid. It seemed everyone could recognize my family situation wasn’t the usual.”
“Right.” He grimaced. “And nobody likes to be perceived as different at that age.”
“I don’t usually talk about it.” Then Willow shot up from the bench and clambered over it, hurrying with her near-empty plate toward the garbage can set up in the far corner of the yard.
He made it there before she did, taking her refuse and dumping it along with his own. “Sorry.” He captured her hand, and squeezing her fingers, drew her even farther away from the others in the yard. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“You didn’t.”
But her big eyes were fixed on his and he could feel a little tremble run through her. She didn’t pull free from his hold, though, and he couldn’t help but step closer, their bodies just inches apart. Their lips…
He tried to recall why kissing her would be a bad idea. But her scent was making his head reel again and to keep his balance he had to focus on her mouth, that pouty feature that seemed impossible to ignore. Tasting her seemed imperative.
His head lowered and he took her second hand in his. “Willow,” he said, low, a whisper straight from some place very close to his soul. He closed his eyes, opened them, to see she was still staring up at him, their fascination clearly mutual.
God. A ripple of want washed through him.
He’d never felt such need, as well as such a sense of imminent change. Like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, the wind blowing into his face making him feel…afraid.
And so damn alive.
“Willow,” he said again, a last chance for both of them.
Her fingers fluttered in his hold and he tightened his grip to reassure her, his thumbs brushing across her knuckles. The edge of one caught on something sharp and cool and he glanced down.
Saw she wore a ring. Fourth finger. Left hand.
He stared. That hadn’t been there before today. Of that, he was certain. Realization slowly filtered through his surprise. “You’re…”
“Engaged,” she confirmed.
His fingers released hers and he stepped back as a succession of feelings sluiced through him.
Reprieve. Relief.
Regret.
Chapter Five
Willow beamed at the pair seated across the table. “This is great,” she said. “Seems like it’s been forever since I’ve had dinner with two of my favorite men in the world.”
Brad’s father, Roger, was a retired Marine from his gray-and-blond bristle cut to his square jaw and even squarer shoulders. He looked around the Sawyer Beach food hall that had once housed the town drugstore. Now six separate eateries shared the space and they’d retained the original soda fountain, including the counter and stools, where patrons could order shakes, sodas, and sundaes. A central bar serviced the clientele as well as a coffee cart convenient to the tables that could seat groupings from pairs to much larger parties.
“I haven’t been here before now,” Roger said. “Margie is itching to try the macaroni and cheese bar.”
Margie, Roger’s wife and Brad’s mom, had a prior engagement with her bunco group that evening. “We’ll come again soon then,” Willow promised.
Brad continued his study of the tabletop flip stand in front of him, the one displaying the menus from the various food stations in the hall. “I’m starving,” he said.
Willow hid her smile. That sounded like the old Brad. The original Brad, at thirteen, who’d used those exact words when greeting the new twelve-year-old next door upon her returning the basketball that had bounced over the hedge. I’m hungry. Then he’d beckoned Willow into his house to meet his mom. Both she and the always-starving boy had walked out of the kitchen with cookies the size of lunch plates and after consuming them to the last crumb, Brad had taught her to play H.O.R.S.E.
By the end of summer, they’d pledged to be best friends for life.
“Don’t you make time for meals on your business trips?” Roger asked Brad.
“Busy,” his son said, frowning and flipping to the next menu. The younger man was his dad all over again, from the military haircut he didn’t waver from even though he was no longer under regulations to his rock-solid, rock-hard body.
At thirteen he’d been rawboned and gangly and Willow had only appreciated his quiet acceptance of her. He’d grown into manhood before her very eyes and it had taken until she was fifteen going on sixteen to see her friend as the hot guy he’d become. Girls started driving by the house and the two of them would be on his porch or hers, reading or looking at their phones or not-talking in that comfortable way they had of being together. During one honk-fest, Willow had looked up, looked over, and then come to realize that Brad could be more than her best buddy.
Another six months and they’d shared a kiss. Their romance might have been slow to bloom, but it always felt so comfortable. So…secure.
Brad had always been her safe haven. With Rachel as her mom and the boy-next-door as her boyfriend, life had settled in a way she’d never dreamed of before. Or only dreamed of before.
“Well, you’re back home now,” Roger said to his son. “So you and Willow need to get busy solidifying your future plans.”
“I agree,” she piped up. This was the in she’d been waiting for. It was time to set a date, past time. It would put an end to all these discomforting feelings and unnerving longings she’d experienced lately. “We should get out our calendars—”
“The new job takes a lot of my energy,” Brad said, glancing up, though not quite meeting her eyes. “You want me to succeed, right?”
“Of course.” She toyed with the engagement ring on her finger. “We’re both working hard.”
Brad’s expression softened and he reached across the table to pat the back of her hand. “I know, honey. And I’m proud of what you’ve accomplished.”
“There’s never a perfect time for a wedding,” Roger said. “Or for babies, for that matter.”
“Babies?” Willow and Brad said together.
Roger laughed. “You should see your faces. But yes, Margie and I want to be grandparents before we’re too old to chase a crawling infant around.”
“Right, Dad,” Brad said, shifting in his chair. “But there’s years and years for that.”
“You think so?” the older man asked. “I’m sure you want children.”
Yes, Willow thought. Marriage, and then children.
She’d always seen Brad as the sturdy, unchanging other half in her life. There’d never been mercurial highs between them—or any corresponding lows—and that suited her just fine. More than fine.
Perfect.
He was the right man to make a family with her.
But her unchanging other half’s expression had closed down and she couldn’t imagine what he was thinking. After leaving the military and starting a civilian job, he’d been quieter than ever. She’d chalked it up to the stress of a career adjustment, but she worried at this new reserve. Frowning, she watched as he stood, then mumbled something about fetching drinks at the bar.
“I guess he knows your order better than you do,” Roger said, gazing after his son striding into the crowd.
“Probably so,” she admitted, and then drew the flip stand of menus toward herself in order to examine the options.
ANTE UP (7-Stud Club Book 3) Page 6
