“That’s . . . nice,” she whispered through chattering teeth.
Coop placed a delicate kiss on her temple. “I should’ve taken better care of you. I’m sorry.”
“You’re here now.” Her voice grew more faint. “In living color.”
Yeah, he was here in the flesh. Alive and well. And Bradley wasn’t, the one who really deserved Ella because he’d been such a top-shelf guy. Coop didn’t deserve a woman like her. She’d been right the other night after the dance. He was terrified of everything she represented because he didn’t think he could be worthy of a woman of her caliber. And even if he stood a chance with someone like her, he’d probably find a way to mess it up.
Coop heard sirens. Help was here.
In Red River, Coop paced the waiting room of Doc Holloway’s office, half of the local residents waiting with him. That was the great thing about a small town. The people might all be in your business, but they were also there to help and support you when you needed it.
The door to the exam room opened, and Doc stuck his head out. About the same age as Coop, Blake Holloway’s nickname didn’t fit his tall, athletic build, but that’s what the townspeople had labeled him, and it stuck.
“She won’t let me touch her until she talks to you.”
Coop was in the room and by her side like a man with superpower speed. The bed was in an upright position, but reclined slightly, and Ella looked at him from under long lashes.
Doc Holloway pointed to the backlit X-ray that was mounted to a view box on the wall. “There’s no broken bone, but the X-ray shows the ball-and-socket joint has dropped anterior and inferior. It needs to be relocated.”
“Okay, speak English.” Ella’s voice was cagey, the pain evident in her expression.
Coop tried to soothe her with a soft look. “Your shoulder just needs to be reset.”
Her magnificent green eyes pleaded with him. “Can you do it, Coop? Bradley used to reset dislocated shoulders.”
Coop speared fingers through his damp hair. “I can do it, but I can’t.” He closed his eyes and pulled in a breath. “I mean, I know how, and have done it many times, but legally I can’t do it now. My license is suspended.”
“But I’m scared. Bradley told me once how painful it is.”
Coop exchanged a look with Doc Holloway. Ella reached for Coop’s hand and he engulfed it in his. Her hand looked so small, so fragile. Small wrinkles from the water still gathered the skin around her fingertips.
“It’s very fast. A split second and it’s over. And the pain you’re experiencing now will disappear instantly. I’ll be right here with you.”
The creamy skin between her shimmering green eyes wrinkled.
“Doc, can you give her something?”
Doc Holloway nodded. “I can give you a small dose of diazepam, Ella. That will take the edge off, but you’ll still feel it. Coop’s right, though, it’s over fast, and you’ll feel much better than you do now.”
Damn it. She shouldn’t have gotten hurt, and it was his fault.
She nodded hesitantly. “Okay.” Her voice was small, almost childlike, and something inside Coop’s chest thudded.
Doc gave her the pain meds. “I’m going to step out and give the medication a few minutes to take effect.”
Coop nodded, but Ella stared down at Coop’s hand clasped with hers.
In a few minutes, the meds took effect, her emerald greens dilating into black marbles. Her head fell back against the white-papered bed, and Coop stroked an auburn lock away from her face.
“You really know how to crash a party, don’t you?” he teased.
Her head rolled to the side, and she smiled at him, her eyelids closing and lifting in slow, rhythmic motions so that long, silky lashes brushed her cheeks with each sluggish blink.
“Sorry.” Her words slurred a little. “So much for living dangerously. I guess I’m just not cut out for it. You’re right. I’m boring and predictable.”
Coop caressed the length of her good arm. “That’s all right. You’re good at other things.”
“I’m a good writer.” She was dozing now, her eyes completely closed. “Did you know that I’m a writer?”
“I can picture that.” A thought occurred to him. “Is that what you’re doing on your laptop all the time? Writing?”
“Ummmm-hmmmm. You’re a beautiful man, Cooper Wells,” she said, her eyes closed. “And the mole under your eye is very sexy. Has anyone ever told you that?” She giggled. “Oh, yeah. Lots of women.”
Coop didn’t know what to say, but a grin formed at the corners of his mouth.
“I like you. More than I thought. A lot more.” She giggled again. Then her forehead crinkled again, and she licked her lips, her head gently rolling from one side to the other. “I really like you,” she managed before giving in to a medication-induced doze.
Well, hell.
Doc Holloway stepped back into the room. “How’s our girl doing?” he asked, and Coop’s chest swelled.
“She just dozed off.”
Doc leaned over her. “Ella, wake up.”
Her eyelids drifted open.
He adjusted the bed and positioned her to get just the right leverage. With her arm bent upward at the elbow, Doc gave her a soothing look. “Ready?”
Before she could answer, he thrust his weight against her elbow, shifting it up and back. A loud pop echoed through the treatment room as her shoulder slid back into the socket.
Ella’s scream ripped through the clinic.
Chapter Fifteen
Ella slept all the way back to the cabin. Her arm in a sling, she cradled it against her midsection. Coop let the truck roll softly to a stop under a large cottonwood tree, the last rays of evening sun filtering through leafy branches to dance across the metallic hood. The yard faded to a dull gray.
A wrist thrown over the steering wheel, Coop cut the engine and looked at her. The seat tilted back, she was deep in a medicated sleep, her head rolled to one side. He pulled in a weighty breath. This was his fault. He shouldn’t have let her do the race. And his teasing had made the situation worse.
Gently, he brushed a few messy strands of hair away from her face. “Ella.” He leaned over and whispered into her ear. She didn’t move. He gave her good shoulder a light squeeze. “Ella.”
“Hmm?” Licking her lips, she rolled her head into an upright position and opened her eyes.
“We’re home.”
We’re home. His tongue tied for a second.
“’Kay,” she said, her voice weak from the sedative. She reached for the door handle.
“No, sit tight.” He unlatched his seat belt and jumped out of the truck. “I’ll come around and help you.”
He jogged around to her side and opened the passenger door. Leaning across her, he unhooked her seat belt and took her good arm. She grimaced. “I know you’re sore, but it’ll only last a few days.”
With his help, she got out of the truck and into the cabin, where Coop shooed Winston and Atlas outside before they could jump on her and cause more pain.
He led her toward the hallway.
“My neck hurts more than my shoulder,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck.
Coop chuckled. “Now, that I can cure.” No, he couldn’t. He wasn’t a licensed chiropractor at the moment. A muscle in his jaw jumped. “I’ll have Dad come over in the morning and give you an adjustment.”
She tried to walk down the hall, but Coop stopped her at his bedroom door. “You sleep in here tonight. I bought an orthopedic mattress a few months ago. You’ll get a better night’s sleep.”
He led her to the bed, and stood there. Well, hell. What was he supposed to do now?
“Coop,” her words came slow and lazy. “I need help getting out of this hoodie.”
“Maybe you could sleep in it.
” That was the only solution that popped into his racing mind, because Doc Holloway had cut off her fitted shirt at his office. Coop had dug around in his truck and found this hoodie for her to put on, but he didn’t know what, if anything, she had on underneath. And, Jesus, he didn’t want to think about it too much, or he’d never get to sleep tonight.
She shook her head. “I want it off.” She sat on the bed, cradling the injured arm against her chest, and kicked off her water shoes.
“Okay,” Coop said, raking a hand over his jaw. Okay, what? He wasn’t actually sure. “I . . . I . . .” He stuttered.
“Coop, I’ve got an athletic bra on under it.” She tried to pull the sling over her head and grimaced. Coop placed a gentle hand on the sling, stopping her movement.
“Not like that. Just stay still.” He loosened the buckle on the back of the sling and pulled the strap free. With careful, disciplined movements, he slid the sling off and freed her arm. “Keep it pulled in close to your body as much as you can.”
She fumbled with the zipper on the hoodie, but the meds had stolen the dexterity from her fingers. He swiped her hand away and grasped the zipper.
“You’re sure?”
She nodded and let her head fall back, eyes closed.
The zipper descended, whizzing along its downward trajectory. And inch by glorious inch the gray hoodie fell away and fair skin appeared. When the black sports bra that held her breasts firmly in place was fully exposed, he swallowed and tugged the sleeves off each of her arms.
“Hold on a second.” He got up and pulled the covers back. Under the comforter was an old quilt, worn with use and soft from age. Coop kept it on the bed because it was so smooth and comfortable to sleep under. “Okay, let’s get you in bed.”
She let him take her arm, and she stood. “I need help with my shorts and leggings.” She grabbed the waistbands and pulled one side down.
He swallowed. Hard. “Ella, maybe you should just sleep in them.”
“For God’s sake, Coop.” Her voice was heavy with sleep. “You’ve seen a woman in her panties before.” She leaned against him. “Am I really that repulsive to you?”
Hell no. That was the problem. He clamped his eyes shut and sank two fingers into the waistband of her clothes. Together, they worked them down until the skintight leggings were completely off, and Coop tossed them aside.
He tried not to look at the silky panties that covered just enough to make him wonder what was underneath, yet revealed enough so there was no doubt that it was all good. Desperately, he tried to avoid looking at her flat stomach and slender waist that dipped in just below her ribs. But it was impossible.
She slid into bed. His bed. Ella was in his bed.
He pulled the covers up over her beautifully formed body with feminine curves in all the right places. How, he wasn’t sure. She didn’t get that figure from eating Cap’n Crunch. Her injured arm lay across her stomach, and she dozed.
The setting sun cast a dark shadow over the room as he stared down at her. He reached for the lamp to flick it off.
“Cooper?” Ella said. Her voice was husky with sleep and pain medication.
“Yeah, it’s me. I’m right here.”
She rolled toward him. “Will you stay with me for a little while?”
He hesitated.
“Please?”
He dragged in a breath. How could he say no to that? “Sure.” He turned to pull the chair over.
“No.” She patted the bed next to her. “Here next to me.”
“I don’t think—” Coop tried to protest, but her eyes opened wider, a silent plea flashing through them.
She held back the covers, and he lay down next to her on the side of her good arm. She scooted closer to him.
“Can you put your arm around me?” she asked softly.
“Ella, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Cooper, it’s times like this when I miss him the most. I’m not as strong as I pretend to be.”
Definitely the meds talking. She always acted as strong and sturdy as a brick house. Built like one, too. But he knew how she felt. Bradley had been his go-to guy just like he’d been Ella’s. And when times got tough, Coop missed him too.
Gently, Coop threaded his arm under her neck and rested his palm against the injured shoulder.
“You sure?” Because, God Almighty, he wasn’t sure at all. This was Ella. Ella Dennings. His best buddy’s widow.
She nestled into the crook of his arm and nodded. Her cheek resting against his chest, she said, “I’m sure.” An inexplicable contentment blossomed in his chest and spread through him like hot chocolate does on a cold winter day.
He looked down at her.
She seemed so vulnerable, so soft, so desirable. And Coop thought he could stay there, just like this—holding his best friend’s widow—for the rest of his days.
“I’m so cold,” she mumbled.
And she was. Ice-cold, in fact. She molded her body against him and entwined her feet with his. “I’ll stay until you fall asleep.” He tucked the covers up around her neck and rubbed her back to keep the circulation going.
“Thank you.” She snuggled against him, her speech slurred from the tranquilizers. “And Coop,” she whispered, all drowsy. “Why are you smiling?”
Huh. “How do you know I’m smiling? Your eyes are closed.”
“I can hear it in your voice.” Her eyes never opened. “Tell me why.”
“Because you called me Cooper. You’ve never called me that before.”
His mother used to call him Cooper, the only person who ever did besides his dad. And Butch only called him that when he was mad at his son. Cooper had been his mom’s maiden name.
“You called me ‘baby’ and ‘sweetheart,’ if I remember correctly.” She sighed and snuggled deeper into the notch of his shoulder. “And I always remember correctly.”
Busted again.
“You remember strange things,” Coop teased.
“Yeah, but not in a creepy stalker kind of way. I just have a photographic memory, and I listen well.”
Bradley had said as much in excruciating detail, in fact. He’d been amazed at Ella’s sharp mind when they first met and how she kept him on his toes intellectually. A trait Coop found annoying at the time, but now he was beginning to see the value in it and why it was so attractive.
“Does this mean we’re finally friends?” She yawned.
“Yeah, I suppose we can finally be friends.”
“Miracles really do happen.” She snuggled in closer, and Coop wanted her to stay there forever. “I wish Bradley could see us. He’d be so happy that we like each other.”
Coop’s heart twisted. He was definitely glad his best friend couldn’t see him groping his wife. He looked heavenward and wondered. Sighing, he closed his eyes and exhaled.
“Ella.” Coop stroked her shoulder.
“Hmm?” She smacked her lips, drifting between sleep and consciousness.
“I should’ve talked you out of doing the race. I knew you were scared. I’m sor—”
“Shh.” She snuggled deeper into the notch of his shoulder. “You were there when I needed you. That’s what counts.”
He adjusted the covers around her shoulder and stared at the ceiling. “Get some sleep, Ella. We both need it.”
But she was already far off in la-la land, a soft snore convinced him of that.
Ella woke to a dark room, the warmth of a masculine body encapsulating her. His heartbeat thrummed against her cheek, his soft sleepy breaths caressing the top of her head.
She rolled her head into the fabric of his T-shirt and breathed in his heady scent. Ah, she loved waking up next to him. It was positively intoxicating.
Ella moved her hand to rest on his chest. Her shoulder was stiff and didn’t move as freely as it usual
ly did. Gently, her fingers began to stroke the cotton fabric, then moved down his stomach to find the hem. When her hand touched bare skin and traced the defined muscles with her fingertips, he stirred.
“Ella,” came his urgent whisper.
She lifted her face to his and found his mouth, her hand dropping lower to the waistband of his shorts. He sucked in a breath and held it. When she deepened the kiss, his fingers threaded through her hair.
Her hand dipped inside his shorts and his breath quickened. She found the generous flesh underneath, and it throbbed and grew thick with each of her loving strokes. He moaned, brushing fingers across her jaw. He angled her head and his kiss grew more intense, his tongue searching out hers, brushing it, caressing it.
“Touch me,” she nipped at his lower lip.
He rolled her gently, lovingly, onto her back.
“You’re sure?” Desire laced his husky voice.
“Yes.” Her own voice was just as urgent because she wanted him so much. Had wanted him for so long. Oh, God, yes, she wanted this. Wanted to feel his weight on her, his pulsating thickness inside of her. “Yes, I want you.”
His hand found her breast and cupped it, kneading and massaging until her head turned on the pillow, and she nearly sobbed with need. He found her earlobe with his teeth and tugged.
“God, I’ve wanted to do this for weeks. I knew they’d taste sweet.” He nibbled on it, then he trailed soft butterfly kisses down her neck. Pulling on her athletic bra, he captured an already-taut nipple with his mouth, and she arched into him, a small sensual cry sounding out into the darkness. When his teeth tugged at her peaked flesh, she screamed out. He released it and she felt a void, a loneliness like she’d never experienced before, until he did the same with the other.
She speared one set of fingers through his hair, and raised his mouth to hers. He captured it with a possessiveness that she’d never known, and she wanted him more than she wanted to breathe.
His hand traversed lower and skimmed across her abdomen. His fingers explored with expert marksmanship, and when they dropped to the apex of her thighs, she opened for him. He caressed her through the silky panties, the soft fabric creating just enough friction to make her writhe, make her want more.
It's In His Heart (A Red River Valley Novel) Page 13
