by Avery Flynn
There was no way in hell he’d let Savannah Jane go undefended. Not when it came to Helena Scott. He never could.
Cooper put on his best smile. “Sorry, Saul. I’m about to make things worse.”
As he strode around his agent, he heard Savannah’s voice rise to meet her mother’s. “Only one of us is standing here hammered in the middle of the afternoon!”
The explosive remark nearly made Cooper trip over his own jaw. He’d never heard her go off on her mother like that. Not even in private. The times, they were a-changing.
“I’m having lunch with friends,” Helena said defiantly.
“Which friends are those? Chenin and Blanc?”
“It’s perfectly acceptable to have a glass at lunch.”
Savannah blinked dramatically. "What about the gin martinis before you left the house? The ones you used to wash down a couple of pills? Were those acceptable?"
Oh hell. One thing was certain. Savannah was on a roll she was going to regret later. She'd regret it regardless, he was sure. But she didn't yet realize that reporters were here, and they were hanging onto her every word.
He had to get her out of here. Fast.
Cooper dodged tables and chairs like opponents on the ice. Savannah never saw him until he was on her, and by then it was too late. The last thing he saw before hauling her over his shoulder was Savannah’s mouth pop open and hang there.
“Put me down this instant,” she squealed.
He spun to face Helena with a smile, holding Savannah’s squirming legs down. “Please excuse us, Mrs. Scott. Enjoy the rest of your lunch.”
It burned him up to take the polite route, but he had to give Saul something.
Oh, hell. Who was he kidding? He could never resist a good opening. “By the way, the recent ban on bitches in society applies to everyone; even ladies that lunch with Chenin and Blanc. Have a nice day.”
He pushed through the door, and Savannah's screech broke through the sweltering heat like a cold front. "Put me down!"
Two strides past the glass doors, and sure they weren’t followed, he decided it was safe to let her go.
Savannah wobbled as she regained balance in her high heels. Once right, her fiery gaze met his, and she let loose a stinging slap.
Savannah didn’t know what had possessed her to hit him, but she had to hit something. Why not Cooper? He was there, and he deserved it for many reasons. Only a fraction being taking her away from the one moment she finally got up the nerve to have it out with her mother.
She couldn’t remember the last time she was this furious.
Cooper cupped his cheek. “Ow! What was that for?” He only let her lungs fill half way before adding. “Don’t answer that. In fact, just breathe for a minute.”
“Don’t you tell me to breathe, Cooper Banks.” He wasn’t going to tell her what to do, damn it. “I’m going to have my say, come hell or high water.”
“How about hell and high water?” He nodded toward the glass doors. “Reporters are inside.”
Well, that took the wind out of her sails. "How much did they see? Did they recognize me? God damn it, I just made things worse, didn’t I?” She was suddenly out of breath. “You know I wasn’t actually pregnant, right?” She spun away from Cooper so fast that the world swayed. “He’s going to kill me.”
“Ho-ho-hold on there. Slow down a second. You’re going to hyperventilate.”
She hadn’t realized she’d been breathing so fast. Cooper bent into her eye-line and took exaggerated breaths she understood she should mirror. For the sake of not passing out and making things worse, she did.
“Now,” he finally said. “Who’s going to kill you?”
“Daddy.”
Cooper made a noise that was a cross between agreement and a snort. “Something tells me you’ll survive an apocalypse at this point. From what I saw in there, no one is going to mess with you. Or shouldn’t. When did you get so feisty?”
“This isn’t a joke, Cooper Banks. Momma’s going to tell Daddy everything, which is the least of my worries considering the stories—”
“Saul’s inside. He’s already handling the spin. As for William, do you really care what he thinks about baseless rumors at this point?”
He had a point. Her daddy had bigger worries, like keeping his own sordid past under lock and key.
Cooper reached for her hand. "Let's get out of here. The ferry leaves in a few minutes. If we're fast enough, we'll make it off the mainland before any of those nosy reporters find us."
She couldn’t have come up with a better idea. An afternoon trip to Morgan Island would give them at least a couple hours of privacy. They could talk openly without worry of being overheard.
As if on cue, several reporters shot out the exit waving recording devices and cameras. Questions punctuated by camera flares assaulted them, stunning Savannah into speechlessness.
“Miss Scott, can you tell us why Cooper left you?”
How, in just an hour, did the story go from breakup to Cooper dumping her? Those reporters worked fast, didn’t they?
“Tell us about the breakup. Was there a baby?”
“Did he ask you to abort?”
Cooper took Savannah by the hand and tugged her quickly away from the onslaught. They took her car and made the ferry with only a minute to spare. Thankfully no one got on after them.
He held her hand the whole way across the water, and she let him. It was like old times. For that little bit of time, she trusted that he wouldn't get away from her. After all, where could he go? She could hold on to that ideal until the very second they returned to the mainland.
Maybe by then, he'd be ready to finally let her go.
Once they arrived, the tourists paused to read signs for directions to particular trails. There were some amazing things to see, and inspiring places to camp for the night, but Savannah and Cooper had seen them all. Instead, they headed as one to the beach, content with the sound of lapping waves and wild horse sightings.
Shoes swinging from her fingertips, Savannah dug her toes into the sand and took her first deep breath. The air on the island worked magic on her tense muscles because she instantly relaxed.
“Thanks for bringing me here,” she said.
“You looked like you needed a place to relax.”
She released his hand and walked ahead. “You have no idea.”
“Try me.”
Couldn’t they just enjoy the peace for a little while longer? Wasn’t that why they were here? She definitely wanted to talk to him, but not yet.
“Do you remember the last time we were here?” she asked.
“Our senior graduation party?”
“No,” she said and chuckled. “Your last year in college. We camped out for the night.”
When he didn’t respond, she glanced up to find him blushing. Actually turning beet red.
He shoved his hands in his jean pockets all the way to his wrists. “I was hoping you’d have forgotten that.”
“Not a chance, Cooper Banks. My memory is miles upon miles long.”
He smiled up toward the clear blue sky to avoid eye contact. “Can’t expect a girl to forget a night of explosive…” He trailed off and cleared his throat. “I haven’t eaten shrimp since, by the way.”
“Oh, ew, no. That is not what I wanted to talk about.” Savannah remembered how they had to wait for the morning ferry. Longest night of her—and his, obviously—life. “I think that was the last time I felt like I was where I belong. Remember how we sat and watched the sunset? We didn’t talk; we barely moved. You just held me until the light was all gone.”
Cooper stopped and winced. “I was mostly just trying to ignore my stomach cramps.”
She laughed. “Way to wreck a lovely memory, you goon.”
He reached for her free hand and turned deadly serious. "Sorry. You were saying?"
She didn’t know what she was saying. Not when he looked at her like that. Then somehow she found herself inching tow
ard him. Not of her own volition; he was pulling her. She couldn’t stop if she tried. Her body was his to puppet. Only a few minutes on the island and she was already drunk on the romantic atmosphere and layers of some of her best memories.
Cooper threaded fingers into her hair with one hand, then the other. Working slow. Careful. Gaze skipping everywhere he touched before finally landing on her eyes.
Being this close to him was nothing new. Nor were the signs of the impending kiss. She wanted it badly but searched frantically for all the reasons why they shouldn't. With her mind in a tailspin, she couldn't find a single reason.
It was too late, anyway. He was already leaning in, and in no time at all his familiar mouth was on hers. Soft like cotton. Warm like a perfect cup of tea.
Distantly she was aware of her shoes hitting the sand, and her hands taking his narrow waist. Their bodies moved in closer until she felt every inch of him on every inch of her. An electric shock struck her heart and had barely begun to dissipate when his mouth pried hers open. His hot tongue teased hers, shocking her heart a second time.
A pool of warmth began to circulate low in her belly until finally she reached around all the way to his back and allowed him inside. Fully and completely. She was in it.
Savannah just wished there weren’t so many damn emotions involved. She wished this kiss could be just a kiss. That he was just a nice looking man who’d sate her needs and never look back.
Cooper would never make it that easy on her. Any day now he’d walk right back out of her life, breaking her heart for the second time.
He pulled out of the kiss first but refused to allow space between their bodies. His forehead connected to hers, and he released a gentle sigh. The warmth of his breath spread across her nose and cheeks.
“Wow,” he said.
Savannah chuckled and looked up at his smiling face. The smile she called her own. The one the cameras never saw. “One thing’s for certain; you sure know how to kiss a girl senseless. I have no idea what I was going to say.”
He kissed her forehead, then bent to retrieve her shoes. “I think I can help with that.”
9
Cooper shook hands with the realtor, unable to contain a smile. “I’ll stop by tomorrow to sign all the papers.”
“I can have them ready later today in case you have time in your schedule to pop by,” she said.
He wouldn’t. Not unless he wanted to drag the Cup and a slew of reporters with him to her office. He'd been lucky enough to get out early enough that morning before they arrived. They've been on his tail since he and Savannah departed the ferry on Monday. Neither has gotten much time alone in the last twenty-four hours, but at least the pregnancy rumors had cleared up. That was just getting obnoxious.
He glanced behind the realtor to the warehouse. Right now it was a bunch of nothing. Just outside of Dove Harbor, but not so far that it would be a pain to travel to. Loads of potential. He couldn’t believe his luck in finding it so fast.
“I won’t have time today,” he said. “But if I want to bring someone by to look at tonight, is that okay?”
“Show whomever you like. Thanks again, Mr. Banks.”
They parted, and he stood outside his rental car a few minutes longer, envisioning the future. Hot damn, there was an actual future there. He'd have to hire a contractor to gut and remodel the inside, but it was the perfect size for a rink and seating.
The logistics of how it would be used were as yet unclear, but he liked the idea of opening it up to the community. Give local coaches a place to train future hockey players. Having free skate nights and maybe starting a charity or scholarship fund. He could come home during the off-season and work with the kids too. Anything was possible.
Coop put his phone to his ear and dropped into the car. Savannah’s voicemail picked up right away. “Hey, I haven’t heard from you about today. I know the last thing you want is to be under a microscope, but…” He trailed off and sighed. “It’s okay if you don’t want to come with me. I’d love it if you would, but it’s okay if you don’t.”
By the time he hung up, his mood had deflated. She'd been pretty standoffish since the other day on the beach which had been damn near perfect. He'd taken her close to the water, propped her against him, and sat holding her for an hour. He'd loved the feel of her slight frame between his thighs. Her back against his chest. The way her fingers drew designs on his knee. And the occasional sigh of contentment.
They’d talked and talked, getting to know each other all over again. He learned that she hated her job but loved working close to West. He refused to let her know how envious he was of their friendship.
She talked some more about her music. Sometimes West wrote the lyrics and her the music, but more often than not it was the other way around. She found the act of writing therapeutic.
When she'd talked about herself enough, she asked about his teammates. She dropped names as if she'd spent just as much time as he in the locker room. She'd apparently formed her favorites, and once again, he denied her the satisfaction of showing jealousy.
Just as the sun started going down, and only a few minutes before the final ferry would depart, he drew a note in the sand. Do you like me? She’d deliberated over the yes and no boxes a full five seconds before checking the no.
Then she’d winked at him and erased his disappointment.
He couldn’t think of anything more perfect than an entire life like that with her.
By the time he pulled up at the hotel and saw what was happening out front, he debated turning around, going home, and diving into bed. He'd been surrounded by fans before, but usually, the jersey names were a mashup of his and his teammates. Ninety percent of them were here for him.
“Fucking insanity,” he murmured.
He checked his phone one more time—nothing from Savannah—and got out near the rear of the hotel. Somehow he made it inside and up to the suite of rooms unnoticed.
“Where’ve you been?” Saul demanded.
“Buying a warehouse.”
Saul smirked. “That’s funny. I need you changed and in makeup and downstairs for pictures in an hour.”
“Here she is,” a familiar voice called.
Cooper spun on a heel for Edwin Motz. Hair flipped over his ears, glasses slipping down his nose. Belt cinched a little too tight for the pants a size too big. He pushed the hotel room door open with a hip and stumbled inside.
The Cup Keeper wasn't alone. In fact, he had the most beautiful woman in his arms. Silver and shiny. Looked heavy enough to take Eddie down with its weight. It took everything Coop had to strip his eyes off it long enough to nod at the suit choice displayed by the personal stylist for the photo shoot.
Eddie reluctantly passed the Cup to Cooper. The ridged surface had a slight chill and wasn't quite as cumbersome as it looked. He spun it in the air a couple of times, giving it a full, visual rotation, and grinned. Unless he was mistaken, Eddie turned a light shade of green at the way it was handled.
“Awesome,” Cooper said, showing off his prize. “Second best thing I’ve seen all week.”
Saul’s dark brows drew together. “Second best? What was first?”
Cooper spun his attention around in dramatic fashion, eyebrows raised. "Well, I can tell you it wasn't the warehouse."
“Can you just be serious for five fucking minutes? Go change.”
Coop slapped his shoulder and grinned. “No worries. I got this.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of, kid.” He started away, muttering, “And to think you were my easy client before this week.”
That was a client who let life happen to him instead of the other way around. Cooper didn’t regret a single thing about the recent changes. Josh was speaking to him, and Savannah Jane had forgiven him. All that was left was to get the town to accept him back into the fold, and after today that was sure to be a cinch.
The morning flew by. An hour in makeup and dressed. Then off to a conference room way too big for t
he small set of lighting and backdrops. As annoying as he usually found this stuff, today, Cooper didn’t mind. Anything was better than letting his imagination run away with him.
Why was Savannah avoiding him? The media? It was already calming down, and as far as he could tell no one had gotten near the Scott-Banks affair. He knew she’d been worried about that. Him too, but William Scott was nothing if not thorough when it came to containing information.
He couldn’t wait to get out of that suit, away from everyone telling him which way was up, and find Savannah Jane if for no other reason than to make sure they were okay.
Back up in the room, he let Eddie take back the Cup for the time being, and someone handed him the clothes he'd brought to wear to see his dad. A white, cotton V-neck, David Bitton jeans, and his favorite pair of scuffed Red Wing boots. Casual enough for the day, but stylish enough to—as requested by Saul—pin the inevitable snapshots of him on a million online boards.
While everyone’s current state shifted from photo shoot with the Cup to graveside visit, that particular stress was the furthest thing from his mind. “Who has my phone?” he asked the room.
A petite girl named Rochelle lifted it high in the air. "You have a ton of missed calls and texts. One, in particular, seems pretty desperate to talk to you."
Had to be Savannah Jane. Please don’t say her name out loud, he thought, glancing sideways at Saul.
“You know a William Scott?” Rochelle asked.
Saul, currently helping Edwin polish the Cup, paused. “Why do I know that name?”
Deflect and evade. He pointed near the bottom of the Cup. “You missed a spot.”
When Rochelle was close enough to pass the phone, she winked, and her voice turned tattle-tail-y. "You're in trouble.”
“Not a word,” he whispered.
She mimed zipping her lips, giving him permission to move on. Phone in hand, he quickly scrolled the notifications. A good luck and see you later from Josh. A few sarcastic jibes from some guys on the team. And more than enough missed calls from Mr. Scott. His texts read along the lines that not only did he hold Cooper responsible for his daughter’s tarnished reputation, but that he was also behind her recent public behavior.
