Luckily, she was too curious to ask any more about his reasons.
“So what happened?” she asked.
“Basically, they conducted a shakedown of his cell.” At her confused expression, he explained. “A shakedown is like a random search where the guards look for contraband and stuff. Anyway, they found a big stash of pictures, probably taken from a telephoto lens, of Mia and the outside of the Snowflake Dance Academy. The photos were inside a manila envelope with a Boise postmark dated last month. Since Galveston has a no-contact order with his victim, they were able to formally write him up for rule infractions. That means the parole board will find out that he’s been collecting current info on Mia and will most likely deny him.”
“Oh, my gosh!” She put one hand on his bicep and one to her mouth, as if holding in her disbelief. “That’s awesome. I can’t believe you did that. Thank you, so much. We need to tell Mia. She’s going to be so relieved.”
“Listen, I know it sounds like good news, but the fact remains that this creep has had someone spying on your friend and relaying information to him. The parole delay is just a temporary fix. Mia is still going to need to be on the lookout for whoever Nick hired to tail her.”
Maxine’s hand dropped from his arm, retracting the temporary warmth they’d created together. She wrapped her oatmeal-colored cardigan sweater tighter around her torso as if to ward off the evening chill.
“What do you think I should say?” she asked.
“That’s the thing. You know your friend better than I do, which is why I wanted you to be the one to decide what, if anything, to tell her. You should also have her talk to the county sheriff so they can be on the lookout for any suspicious activity.”
“I really don’t think that’s going to do much good. Damn, I wish we had better local law enforcement. What do you think we should do?” Her big blue eyes looked up at him, this time with hope instead of resentment.
She was finally coming to him for advice. Oh, how the tide had turned.
Hunter stuck his head out the door, interrupting them. “Mom, your food is here.”
Great timing. Just as they were starting to feel more relaxed around each other.
“Hey, Coop, Gram is looking for you. She wants me to bring you over to meet some of her friends.” Hunter looked first at his mother, then at him. “What are you guys doing out here?”
Maxine backed away from Cooper as if he were holding a grenade minus the pin.
“Nothing.” She answered too quickly, but Hunter didn’t seem to notice.
“We can talk about it later,” Cooper said to just her, opening the door for them as they reentered the warmth of the Italian restaurant. It was interesting that when they talked about things that had nothing to do with the way their bodies heated every time they got within ten feet of each other, they could be perfectly civil.
“Coooooooper,” Cessy Walker called out before the big oak door closed behind him. “Come over here. I have some people I want you to meet.”
“Oh, listen.” Maxine turned back and leaned toward him, placing her mouth as close to his ear as she could without drawing more attention. “I forgot to warn you about Hunter’s grandmother. She can be a bit overwhelming most of the time, but she means well.”
“So I’ve gathered.”
“I’ll just apologize in advance for anything that comes out of her mouth.”
It wasn’t the apology he’d hoped for, but Maxine Walker was definitely softening toward him. And when he was this close, the intoxicating scent of vanilla lingering on her skin made him anything but soft.
“If you were really sorry,” he said, “you’d come over there with me and run some interference.”
“Not on my night off.” She smiled, not looking the least bit remorseful. “I deal with her and her cronies all the time. You’re on your own, soldier. Good luck.” She smiled as she patted his arm, then headed back to her friends.
Yes, that had definitely been a smile. And another touch—which the two waiting women had obviously seen because they were giving Maxine questioning glances as she made her way to their table. Those ladies obviously hadn’t learned the meaning of the word subtle.
“Cooper?” Cessy called again, waving him over like an airport traffic controller guiding a 747.
He straightened his shoulders and strode over to a large table where she stood by several local businessmen.
What could they possibly want with him?
* * *
Maxine had finished an entire plate of baked ziti and three cold garlic knots by the time Cessy had made her way to the table, with Cooper trailing behind her.
“Girls,” her mother-in-law said by way of greeting.
Kylie offered her a sunny smile. “Hi, Mrs. Davenport.”
“Kylie Chatterson, you know good and well that I took back my family name after my last divorce.”
“Of course, Mrs. Davenport-Walker. Or is it Mrs. Walker-Davenport?”
“Stop your teasing, Kylie.” Cessy forced her Botox-treated face into a smile. “Why can’t you call me by my first name like you do the others? After all, I’m just one of you girls.”
Maxine felt guilty for not being more welcoming, so she scooted over and patted the booth. “We already finished eating, but you can join us if you’d like to.” Was she ready to include Cooper in that invitation?
“No, dear, but thank you. I just wanted to stop by and let you know that I introduced our pen pal to Mayor Johnston and some of the city council members over there.” Cessy looped her arm through Cooper’s as if she’d gone out to Afghanistan herself to purposely find him and bring him back to Sugar Falls. “We’re trying to convince Cooper here to throw in his hat for the new chief of police position they just approved.”
Maxine almost felt sorry for the poor marine, who looked as if he’d rather be in a prisoner of war camp than in an Italian restaurant with the best small-town networker who ever lived. Unfortunately, he probably hadn’t realized he was already in the tight clutches of Cessy Walker’s master scheme.
Obviously, Cessy had given him her rare stamp of approval, which was more than a little surprising. Maxine had thought she’d make a big deal out of Hunter’s relationship with him. But, apparently, the man’s rapport with her grandson had the opposite effect. And that meant, if Cessy had her way, they’d be stuck with Gunny Heartthrob indefinitely.
“That’s right,” Mia agreed. “You were a police officer in the military. It would be great to finally have some local law enforcement who could respond to calls in less than thirty minutes.”
Maxine had yet to tell Mia about the news regarding Nick’s parole. She’d wanted to talk to Cooper more before saying anything. But now she was worried about the idea that the former marine might decide to stay.
“That would be perfect!” Kylie chimed in. “You’re looking for a police officer job anyway, right?”
“Actually, I don’t know what I’m looking for. I don’t even have my official discharge paperwork yet.”
“But you’re here to find yourself, right?” Mia asked. “You don’t have any ties anywhere else, do you?”
Cessy stood there smugly, as if her foot soldiers were doing all the work for her.
“The only plan I have right now is to go rescue Hunter from the game area, and then order a large meatball sub with extra cheese. And a beer.”
His smile took the edge off his quick departure, and Maxine had to hand it to the guy. He sure knew how to put a group of overly curious females in their place. Unfortunately, by the way her body was humming at his take-charge attitude, she doubted her curiosity about the sexy man could ever be sated.
* * *
Early the following morning, Maxine checked on a large vat of cream in the industrial-sized stainless steel churner. The sun hadn’t come up ye
t, and she was downstairs, creating the handmade dough that her assistants would later transform into the fastest-selling product in Sugar Falls. This was her favorite time of day, when she was alone with her thoughts, her son still snuggled in his bed right upstairs and the promise of a new day just an hour away.
She’d just switched on the Motown station on her satellite radio and had begun to pull out the sacks of sugar and flour when she heard a knock at the back door. Her employees never arrived before seven, and they usually didn’t get deliveries until the afternoon, so she felt a little uneasy. She couldn’t help thinking about what Cooper had told her last night. Some creep had been snooping around town to seek out Mia.
As she made her way to the door, hoping it was someone she knew, her stomach twisted and the hairs on her arms stood up straight.
She looked out the peephole and almost ducked when she spotted Cooper’s chiseled face on the other side. She had to remind herself that he couldn’t see her through the wood. However, the light was clearly on and he could probably hear Marvin Gaye asking about what was going on. She couldn’t very well ignore him.
Her hand shot to the top of her head, to the messy ponytail that never fully contained the strands of her wild hair. Then she chastised herself for even caring how she looked. At least her apron was clean.
She unbolted the door and cracked it open, not sure if she wanted to welcome him into her sanctuary—at least, not before seven o’clock in the morning.
Now here he was, coming to her private domain at oh-dark-thirty as if it was the normal part of his day.
When she swung open the door, he simply said, “Hey. Hunter said you’re usually up early working downstairs, and since I had an idea about the Mia situation I wanted to run by you, this seemed like the perfect time.”
The steam coming from his breath drew her attention to his full mouth and reminded her that, even though it was spring, it could still be bone chillingly cold up here on the mountain.
It also reminded her of the last time they stood in a doorway looking at each other. Sweet mercy. She opened the door wider and stepped aside. “Sure, come on in.”
He was wearing track pants, old sneakers and a faded camo-green sweatshirt that read Pain Is Weakness Leaving The Body.
Well, ooh-rah to that.
“I have a fresh pot of coffee,” she offered.
“Thank you, I’d love some.”
She couldn’t believe it. They were actually being cordial to each other. And while his proximity this early in the morning was causing her insides to roil like the vat of cream in the electric butter churner in the corner, she didn’t want to ruin the mood.
As she poured them each a mug, she tried to keep her hands steady, which wasn’t an easy task since she felt his assessing gaze on her back.
She handed him a cup, and their fingers brushed, causing a tingle to zip along her arm.
“So this is where the magic happens?” he asked.
Did he think they were about to make some magic of their own in the warmth of the secluded kitchen?
“I’ve been meaning to come in and check this place out,” he added, as he looked around. “I loved the cookies Hunter sent me and, according to everyone who eats at the Cowgirl Up, this is one of the busiest spots on the weekends.”
“Oh. That kind of magic.” Of course he meant the cookies. “I don’t know if there’s anything that special about it, but yep, this is where I make it happen.” She tried to be modest about her business, but it was hard to downplay her success. Especially when they were standing smack-dab in the middle of it.
“There’s obviously something special about it, otherwise, it wouldn’t have been featured on Good Morning, Boise!”
“Oh, you heard about that?”
“Did I mention that I’ve had breakfast at the café every morning since I arrived? I think I’m caught up on all the happenings within a hundred-mile radius of Sugar Falls. Anyway, what’s the secret to producing the best cookie in Idaho?” He slid his free hand into the front pouch pocket on his sweatshirt and took another sip of coffee.
“Not really any secret. Want me to show you around?”
“I was waiting for you to ask if I wanted a tour.” He rolled back onto the heels of his feet, as if unable to keep still, and smiled over his mug.
Oh, sweet mercy. There was that dimple she’d seen in the picture he’d sent Hunter. It softened his face and made him look less tough.
Put yourself in check, Max. It doesn’t matter that he’s sexy as can be, he’s not for you.
She turned toward the storefront and motioned for him to follow her.
She led him to the public part of the shop, which had a trendy decor that was both cute and homey. She’d gone for the shabby-chic cottage look with white woodwork and yellow gingham accents to match the trademark ribbons used to tie the boxes of cookies. Wicker baskets lined the shelves, and held prepackaged cookies wrapped in cellophane for the customers who didn’t want to wait in line. And there was almost always a line on the weekends, thanks to the big spread that had showcased her shop in a premiere travel magazine listing the Sugar Falls Cookie Company as one of the top twenty must-visit places in Idaho.
“So what else do you make here?” he asked, as he walked around, sizing the place up as if he were a prospective buyer.
“Just cookies. I thought about trying cupcakes and muffins, but I really wanted to focus on one product and perfect it. We usually carry fifteen different varieties, plus the pick of the month. But the beauty of my operation is that all of my cookies are based off the same basic dough. That’s what I was doing when you came in—making the starter dough. Then we add the necessary ingredients to each individual batch to customize the flavors.”
“Holy crap!”
She turned back at his shocked outburst and saw him holding a package of cookies at arm’s length, as if trying to assess it from a distance.
“Twenty dollars for a dozen cookies?” he blinked his eyes several time, as if not believing what he was seeing. “Duncan’s Market has Chips Ahoy! on sale this week for two ninety-nine.”
She grabbed the package and put it back in its display basket. “These are slightly better than Chips Ahoy!, you know.”
“Oh, I know, all right. Hunter sent me some in the hospital, remember?”
No, she didn’t remember. In fact, Hunter had probably done it without her knowledge. But she’d give his indirect compliment its due. “Thank you.”
“I just had no idea how much they were worth. No wonder you can afford such a nice car and apartment.”
“It also allows me to afford the top quality ingredients that go into each batch. Besides, it took a lot of hard work and tight budgeting to get where I am.”
“I don’t doubt that. So why cookies?”
She’d been ready to do verbal battle because that’s what she’d come to expect from Cooper. But he stood there at ease, looking at her with genuine interest. And ever since their talk last night, it seemed as though they’d arrived at some sort of common ground. And what could be more neutral than cookies?
“You don’t really want to hear this, do you?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Okay, but let me get you another cup of coffee.”
He followed her back to the kitchen and, after she refilled his mug, he leaned against the long butcher block counter, a captive audience.
Well, her dough wasn’t going to make itself and since it gave her an excuse to avoid his assertive gaze, she took a deep breath, then began to measure the ingredients she knew by heart as she talked.
“When Bo died, I was almost twenty-four years old. I was a new widow with a twenty-month-old little boy to support, and completely disillusioned.”
“Did you have any family? Besides the fabulously worldly and sociall
y connected Cessy Walker?”
When she rolled her eyes, he smiled, and she realized he hadn’t succumbed to her mother-in-law’s posturing and showboating last night.
“My family is pretty much spread all over the world. My parents are career army and I was tired of moving and determined to put down roots. As far as my mother-in-law being supportive, Cessy had adored Bo and thought he could do no wrong. We’d always had a decent relationship, and she was crazy about Hunter—still is. But she was too lost in her own grief and had a complete breakdown when Bo died. Not that I could blame her. I can’t even imagine how I would react if I lost...” She couldn’t even finish the thought. “Anyway, Cessy took off with the first rich man she met a few weeks after the funeral, which we now refer to as ‘The Unfortunate Husband Number Four Incident.’”
He chuckled. “I could see Cessy doing that. Hunter says she’s been married quite a bit. What about you? You didn’t want to get remarried?”
“No way. I really didn’t want to get married the first time, but I wanted to give my child a family life and secure home. In my mind, that meant marrying his father. But commitment and fatherhood weren’t exactly what Bo had imagined.”
“What had he imagined?”
Maxine was ready for the freshly churned butter and went to retrieve the large bowl. Cooper helped her lift the stainless steel vat up onto the counter and peered inside. “Wait, before you answer that, what’s this white stuff?”
“It’s butter.”
“It doesn’t look like butter.” He grabbed a metal spoon from beside the coffeepot on the counter, dipped it into the bowl before putting a dollop of the stuff into his mouth.
She thought of the way that frothy cream was probably melting in his mouth right this second, and she wanted to melt right along with it.
Focus, Maxine.
“I...uh...get the cream delivered here fresh from a nearby organic dairy. Then I churn the butter myself. It’s my secret ingredient and it’s what gives my cookies that decadent texture.”
A Marine for His Mom Page 11
