by Mia Ross
Based on what he’d seen so far, Bree was fighting a bigger battle than she was admitting to. Despite her bravado, he saw the uncertainty in her dark eyes, muting the spark of intelligence that managed to snap through frequently enough to intrigue him. Fortunately she’d be leaving soon. All he had to do was get through the Fourth, and she’d be on her way back to Richmond.
It was better that way, he knew. He’d once gotten in way too deep with a woman committed to her career, and her rejection of his marriage proposal still stung. He had no intention of making the same mistake again.
As he pulled in at the lighthouse, he shoved those old regrets to the back of his mind. Someday, when he finally had time to get back into the dating scene, it would be with someone down-to-earth who loved the ocean as much as he did.
When he got to the end of the drive, he was surprised to find Bree waiting for him on the front stoop. He was even more surprised to see her scratching Reggie behind his ears, while the little pig grunted in delight.
“That’s not something you see every day,” Cooper teased as he stepped down.
Eyes twinkling with humor, she pointed a threatening finger at him. “If you tell a single soul I like this little oinker, I’ll sue you for defamation of character.”
“Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”
“You’re a lawyer. Don’t you lie for a living?”
He knew she was joking, but her accusation brought up more memories he’d rather leave buried in the past. Reminding himself she had no way of knowing that, he took a deep breath and let it go. “Never to pretty ladies sitting on porches. Besides, it’s not your fault. Reggie’s a shameless flirt.”
“He sure is.”
Chucking him under the chin, she made kissing noises but stopped short of actually delivering one. Obviously smitten, the pig closed his eyes and gave her his version of a smile, wagging his tail for good measure. It was one of the cutest things Cooper had ever seen. He’d take a picture, but he suspected Bree would toss his phone in the water to destroy the evidence. Still it was oddly comforting to know there was a soft heart under all that bluster. Recalling his earlier musings about the pretty reporter, he firmly put the brakes on that train of thought. She was here to do a job, and that was it. With a sharp mind and a tongue to match, she was the kind of woman who could drive a man crazy with no effort at all.
“The crews should be coming in about now,” he said. “Are you ready to go?”
“Definitely.”
As she shouldered her camera bag and stood up, the breeze ruffled through the long curls she’d left loose around her shoulders. She was dressed head to toe in black like a pint-size burglar, and he couldn’t help grinning. While full-on black might be appropriate for life in Richmond, here she’d stand out like a sore thumb.
Apparently he was staring a little too intently, because she frowned and glanced down at her trousers. “Am I covered in pig hair or something?”
“No. Why?”
“Usually when people grin like that, they’re making fun.”
She didn’t say “of me,” but Cooper easily filled in the blank. Seeing the hesitance in her eyes, he wouldn’t even think of suggesting she change her clothes. So she’d stand out. So what? With her striking looks and fearless demeanor, he had the feeling she’d turn heads no matter what she was wearing.
“Not me,” he assured her. “I’m looking forward to spending the evening with you, so I smiled. I promise not to do it again.”
A grateful smile brightened her features, transforming them with the pixie look he’d glimpsed earlier when she’d briefly let down her guard. It made her seem much younger, and he could envision her as a fresh-faced journalist, eager to take on the world before it turned against her. What had she been like back then? he wondered.
Realizing he’d ventured into dangerous territory, he pushed the emotion aside and smiled as he motioned her toward the car. “After you.”
“Why did you put the top and doors back on?” she asked when he opened the passenger side for her.
“Earlier today I got the feeling you didn’t appreciate the open-air look.”
“You didn’t have to do this for me. I’m not that picky.”
Did anyone ever go out of their way for her? Cooper wondered as he started the engine. His guess would be no, which explained her fierce independent streak. Being a lifelong New Englander, he’d always admired self-reliance. But for some reason thinking that Bree had no choice other than to fend for herself really bothered him.
Shrugging it off, he headed for the wharf. “I talked to some of the captains, and they’re thrilled that you’re coming down.”
“I wish you hadn’t done that. I prefer to do candid interviews.”
“Trust me,” Cooper told her with a chuckle. “These guys have been out on the water for twelve hours. You’re better off giving them a chance to clean up a little before you meet them.”
After a moment she admitted, “Okay. That makes sense.”
While they chatted about nothing in particular, Cooper’s opinion of her continued to improve. Her queries were thoughtful and out of the box, and she asked things most visitors didn’t consider important. Were the crews local or from elsewhere? Full-time or day laborers? Were the docks maintained by the town or the county? How many women worked on the crews?
With each question she asked him, his confidence in her abilities grew. Many in town—himself included—had questioned the wisdom of promoting Holiday Harbor to random outsiders. Their debate had revolved around the best way to accomplish their goals without being viewed as a joke or a tourist trap.
Cooper was now convinced that Bree was perfect for the job. It didn’t take a genius to figure out she had something to prove, not only to her editor, but to herself. He sensed that she’d do whatever it took to write an exceptional article and show Nick she could handle any challenge he wanted to throw at her.
Cooper was only too glad to help her do it.
When they arrived at the busy waterfront, every boat, from two-man skiff to commercial lobster boat, was tied up in port. Judging by the relative cleanliness of the crews, the captains had passed Cooper’s message along over their radios and ordered everyone to clean up before coming ashore. They wouldn’t pass muster for a night at the Metropolitan Opera, but they’d all made an effort to spiff up after their long, grueling day.
As he and Bree made their way down the ramp, she pulled a steno pad and pen out of the front pocket of her camera bag.
Cooper chuckled. “Going old school, huh?”
“Some people don’t trust technology.” Casting a glance down the dock, she smiled. “I’m guessing these guys will feel more comfortable with me if I take notes the old-fashioned way.”
When they reached the landing, he stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Hang on a minute.”
She opened her mouth to say something just as one of the veteran crewmen announced, “Off with your hats, fellas.”
They all removed their caps, lowering their heads as he continued. “Heavenly Father, we thank You for a beautiful day free of breakdowns and injuries. We pray the catch in our holds brings us a good price so we can afford to keep working the sea we love. In Your name we pray. Amen.”
Cooper echoed the sentiment and caught Bree’s look of surprise from the corner of his eye. “Something wrong?”
“No, I just didn’t expect to hear a sermon on the dock.”
“Their jobs are incredibly dangerous,” he explained patiently. “It’s important for them to know they’re not alone out there on the water.”
Still looking perplexed, she let the subject drop, and he stepped back to give her the spotlight. While she introduced herself to the fishermen, he marveled again at her ability to make people feel at ease. Everyone but him, it seemed. Unfortunately he sti
ll hadn’t figured out why.
“So tell me,” Bree addressed the oldest captain, a sixty-something old salt fondly referred to as Cap’n Jack. “What’s the biggest threat to your business these days?”
“Them over there.” Nodding toward a chartered fishing yacht, he scowled. “These rich guys plow into our fishing lanes and scare off half the catch. They just want to come back with something to stuff and mount over the fireplace in their den. But this is how we make our living and take care of our families.”
She cocked her head as if considering her response, but Cooper wouldn’t be surprised to learn she had most of her questions memorized. “They spend money here in town, though, at the hotels and restaurants. If they stop coming, how would you replace it?”
“Dunno.” His leathery face cracked into a scowl he aimed in Cooper’s direction. “Ask our new mayor.”
“You don’t approve of the job Mayor Landry’s doing?”
“No, missy, I don’t. Nothing against Cooper, o’course,” he added in a grudging half apology. “It’s just I don’t see the need to change things that’ve been workin’ the way they are for generations.”
There was some grumbled agreement, and Cooper carefully kept his expression neutral. All these men liked him well enough, but to them he was still wet behind the ears and in need of seasoning. The fact that Granddad was gone had no bearing on their opinions. They wanted the judge, and barring that, they wanted the town to continue running the way he’d done it for the past twenty years. Period, end of story.
“Aw, lay off, Jack,” one of his crew members chided. “Cooper ain’t like most college boys. He’s done his time out on the water.”
Bree turned to Cooper with undisguised astonishment. “You worked a fishing boat?”
“My uncle was a lobsterman. I worked with him in the summers when I got old enough.”
“Tough job,” she commented, then turned back to the crews. “I lived in Boston for a while, so I’ve got real respect for how hard you all work.”
“Boston.” One of the younger hands spat into the water. “Their winter’s got nothin’ on ours. In the spring we gotta chop a path through the ice just to get to the fish.”
Grinning, Bree jotted a note on her pad. While the others chimed in with their own tales, the interview devolved into general boasting. Then she did the worst thing possible.
“Can I get some pictures of you guys?”
Shouting agreement, they pushed and shoved to be in front. Finally Jack hollered for them all to knock it off and waded into the mix to sort them by height. While they got organized, Bree glanced over at Cooper and gave him a little wink, which told him she knew exactly what she was doing. Who’d have thought their very intense visitor had a playful streak? Cooper mused with a grin. She had these rough-and-tumble men right where she wanted them, playing up to her, falling all over themselves to give her unusual personal details for her article.
And photos? What man didn’t want a pretty woman taking his picture, telling him it just might wind up on the internet?
“Grab that camera, lawyer boy!” Jack called out. “We want a picture with the little lady.”
Shaking his head, Cooper grinned and took the 35mm from her. Then he waited while they did rock-paper-scissors to decide who got to stand next to her. As he focused in, he marveled at how quickly she’d gotten them all eating out of the palm of her hand.
If she was like this with men in general, he pitied the one who actually fell in love with her someday. The poor guy wouldn’t stand a chance.
* * *
Once she and Cooper had chosen their lobsters, Bree followed him up the metal gangplank, away from the commercial docks humming with activity. It was pretty warm, and the smell of fresh fish and seaweed permeated the salt-laden breeze.
Oh, her mother would love that one, she thought, scribbling it down. It was poetic and earthy at the same time, just like Mom. With seagulls circling overhead, the bustling port looked busy enough to support five towns.
Until she noticed the other side.
The far end of the U-shaped dock was completely empty. No boats, no people, even the access gate had been welded shut. Some of the wooden deck boards were missing, and algae covered the lower areas of everything that remained.
“How long has it been that way?” she asked, motioning toward the abandoned section.
“Five years, give or take. It got to be so expensive to maintain, the town council voted to close it down and save the money.”
It looked lonely and unwanted, tangible proof of the decline Cooper had described to her earlier. Now she understood his eagerness to entice tourists into the area. He didn’t want the rest of his hometown to end up like this.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his brow wrinkling with concern.
She’d been in lots of places that had seen better days, but she’d always managed to keep her professional distance. For some reason this old fishing village was different, and she’d need to put in more effort to remain objective. “Fine. Just hungry.”
“Then I guess it’s a good thing we’re here.”
Angling her away from the depressing scene, he motioned her ahead of him through a glass door etched with the Holiday Harbor logo and The Crow’s Nest beneath it in flowing script.
“Nice touch, using the same artwork.” Noting the familiar design from his shirt, she tapped it on her way through. “Visitors pick up on things like that.”
“That’s the general idea. Hi, Frances.”
“Cooper. I didn’t know you were coming in tonight.”
“Neither did I. Do you have a table on the deck?”
“For you? Always,” she gushed, giving Bree a suspicious once-over. “And who is this?”
“I’m sorry. Bree Farrell, Frances Cook. Bree came up from Richmond to do an article on Holiday Harbor.”
“Cooper!” a man yelled, hurrying over to clap him on the shoulder. Tie askew, he was wearing a button-down and suit jacket with a Vote for Derek! button done up in red, white and blue. Turning to Bree, he offered his hand. “Derek Timms. Cooper and I grew up here and then went to Yale Law together. Since he’s practicing here, I just opened my own firm in Oakbridge. I don’t know how this goofball does it, but he always manages to show up with the prettiest girl in the place.”
“She’s not my date, you moron. She’s a reporter.” He flipped the outrageous button with his finger. “And she can’t vote for you, so just can the speech.”
“What are you running for?” Bree asked.
“Mayor.” When she flashed Cooper a baffled look, Derek laughed. “Cooper may be allergic to power, but I’m not. We see things the same way, so except for the fact that I’m a much better dresser, the town probably won’t even notice the difference.”
Cooper chuckled in apparent agreement. “Just as long as you keep those greedy developers outta here, I’ll be happy.”
After a quick salute, Derek said, “Otter can’t make it for golf next Friday, so we’ve got a spot. Whattya say?”
“Otter?” Bree echoed with a grin. “Is he a really good swimmer or something?”
“Or something,” Cooper answered with a grin of his own before focusing on his friend. “Where are you guys playing?”
“Deer Run, the new club over in Oakbridge. Longest course within a hundred miles. You can try out that fancy new driver your mom got you for your birthday.”
The two men began discussing various aspects of the new course, leaving Bree at the mercy of Frances. Wonderful.
“A real-live reporter, all the way up here. How about that?” the young woman commented through a frigid smile. “What do you think of our little town?”
“I haven’t seen much, but the people I’ve met so far are fantastic.” She added a little bite to her tone to let her know she might
be able to fool a nice guy like Cooper, but Bree had her number.
“Sorry about that,” Cooper apologized to Bree as Derek headed back to his table. “But it’s impossible to get a tee time at that new club.”
For the hostess’s benefit, Bree smiled. “No problem.”
Frances escorted them to a secluded table on the deck overlooking the bay. Because he was pulling out Bree’s chair, he didn’t notice the longing look Frances tossed back over her shoulder as she left. Bree could hardly blame her. Even in Richmond Cooper would be considered quite the catch. With so little competition up here, he must look like a prince.
Once they were settled, he crossed his arms on the table. “The crews really warmed up to you, didn’t they?”
Taking a sip of her water, she replied, “They were awesome. And very entertaining. It’s easy to see how much they love this place.”
He cocked his head with a knowing look. “But you don’t share their opinion.”
She didn’t, but Bree wisely refrained from admitting it outright. “I just got here, so I haven’t formed an opinion yet.”
“How ’bout a gut feel? I won’t hold you to it or anything, just curious.”
She’d learned the hard way not to voice her impressions, first or otherwise. But his genuine kindness had put some of those usual fears to rest, and she instinctively knew she could trust him. “I love the lighthouse. It’s really beautiful out there.”
Judging by his bright grin, she’d hit one of his favorite buttons. “Yeah, it is. Kaleidoscope has over a million readers nationwide, and I’m hoping we can get enough coverage that people will start to recognize the name and want to come check things out.”
