River's Bend

by JoAnn Ross

  The restaurant was filled to its wide open rafters with colorful crepe-paper streamers and bright helium balloons. A Good Luck! banner hung over the hand-carved bar from an 1800s Gold Rush brothel Mitzi had unearthed in a Jacksonville antique shop, and the scents of pine and fir rose from the centerpieces gracing all the tables.

  Rachel sank down onto a chair, staring blindly at an arrangement of pinecones, holly, and mistletoe branches. The holiday display blurred as tears welled up in her eyes and began to spill down her cheeks.

  “I never imagined,” she said. “All the time, you all were planning all this and I never knew.”

  “Speech!” Cal Potter shouted over the laughter and cheers. The idea spread, until everyone, including Scott, was calling for her to speak. When Cooper put his hands on her waist and lifted her up onto the bar, an expectant hush immediately fell over the café.

  Taking a deep breath, Rachel scrubbed at her damp cheeks with the backs of her hands. For some reason, that gesture brought another long round of cheers and applause. She looked down at Cooper for encouragement, receiving it in the form of a reassuring wink.

  “Only a few months ago,” she began in a voice she wished were steadier, “my son Scott—” when she smiled over at him, he beamed back “—and I arrived in River’s Bend. We were strangers, far away from home, and although I can’t speak for Scott, I’ll admit that I was scared to death. Especially when I found out that my long-awaited dream had nearly gone up in smoke.”

  An understanding murmur swept through the crowd. As Rachel looked down into the faces of those former strangers who’d become her friends, her nervousness drifted away.

  “But Dan, Cal, Fred, and Cooper—” her gaze turned fond as it settled on each man in turn, lingering the longest on Cooper, “—assured me that River’s Bend was a special place. A place where people care about one another. Where western hospitality isn’t merely a cliché, but a way of life.” Rachel smiled. “During these past months I’ve discovered they were telling the truth.”

  A new cheer arose as the group applauded themselves. The warmth of feeling in the room was palpable, and Rachel could feel the tears threatening again. “River’s Bend is special because its people are so special,” she said. “And I thank you all for allowing Scott and me to become part of your lives.”

  This time the cheers were deafening, lasting long after Cooper had helped Rachel down from the bar. He hadn’t lied about taking her out to dinner. In the best tradition of a small-town potluck, everyone had brought a dish to contribute to the celebratory meal.

  “Happy?” Cooper asked later that evening as they danced to the music of the River’s Bend Volunteer Fire Department’s country band.

  The band, while enthusiastic, had a limited repertoire; they appeared to only know half a dozen tunes, a problem they got around by playing the songs over and over again. Dan’s guitar broke its G string on a spirited rendition of The Orange Blossom Special; Cal Potter sang off key and Fred Wiley’s foot-tapping consistently missed the beat. Rachel found them wonderful.

  “Deliriously so.” No longer caring what people might think about their relationship, she went up on her toes and lightly kissed Cooper. “This is definitely going to go down as one of the all-time best nights of my life.”

  Brushing her hair aside, Cooper skimmed his lips down her neck. “And just think,” he said huskily, “the night’s still young.”

  She looked up at him, drinking in the face of this very special man she’d fallen in love with. No words were spoken. None were needed.

  44

  The snow had finally stopped falling. Moonlight streamed down from a midnight blue winter sky, lighting the bedroom with a silvery glow. Cooper had come to know Rachel’s body well. His hands moved expertly over her, warming, pleasuring, kindling flashpoints.

  His hands tempted; his lips seduced. His tongue, as it breached her parted lips, promised. The fragrance of her earlier bath oil mingled with the hot heady scent of desire. Her skin, gleaming with a pearly luminescence in the flickering light of the candles she’d lit, grew feverish, arousing them both.

  Unable to remain passive while he was driving her mad, Rachel’s touch grew greedy. The fluffy comforter slid unnoticed to the floor. The flower-sprigged sheets became hot as desire built, passion flared, needs escalated.

  Like a man possessed, Cooper lost himself in the warm satin of her breasts. He buried his mouth in the heady fragrance of her neck, and when his exploring fingers dipped into her warm, slick moisture, raw desire tore through him, obliterating all but one thought: Mine.

  He wanted to take her places she’d never been, uncover secrets she’d never imagined. The past vanished. The future dimmed. There was only now. Only Rachel.

  Control disintegrated as the power swept them deeper and deeper into a hazy, smoldering world of their own making.

  “Damn,” Cooper murmured much, much later, as Rachel, wrapped in his arms, still clung to him.

  “Well, that’s certainly romantic.” She pressed her lips against his chest, making his vision, which had just begun to clear, blur again.

  “Stop that,” he groaned as her lips continued a downward trail. “How am I supposed to concentrate when you insist on seducing me?”

  “Me? Seducing you?” When her tongue dipped into his navel, his body rebooted, coming instantly alive.

  Although it wasn’t his first choice, he wound her hair around his hand and lifted her head. “Don’t play innocent with me, woman. If we keep this up, you’re going to wear out my poor, abused body before I hit thirty-six.”

  Rachel sighed dramatically, braced her elbow on the mattress and cupped her chin in her palm. “I haven’t heard you complaining. Until now.”

  Cooper ran his hand down her bare back, loving the way he could make her tremble beneath his touch. Even now. “It wasn’t a complaint. It was just that your wild and wanton ways, which, for the record, I love, almost made me forget to give you your present.”

  “You bought me a present? Why?”

  “Does there have to be a reason?”

  “There usually is.”

  He shrugged. “Okay, I suppose we could call it a pre-grand opening present. Or an early Christmas present. Or a just-because present.”

  “Just because?”

  “Just because I love you.”

  Apparently that wasn’t the right choice because she sat up, pulling the sheet over her breasts, tucking them beneath her arms. The sudden sign of modesty after she’d been writhing beneath him only moments ago was not a good sign.

  “Oh, Cooper . . .”

  He pressed a finger against her lips. “Wait until you see what it is.”

  He felt her watching him as he left the bed and crossed the room to where his pants were draped over the arm of the wing chair. Although he’d never considered himself a coward, Cooper didn’t watch her face as he pulled the square velvet box from his front pocket.

  She took her time opening the box, reminding him of a demolitions guy he’d watched defuse an IED in Afghanistan. The tiny diamond solitaire was surrounded by a delicate white gold filigree setting.

  “Oh, Cooper,” she repeated on a soft sigh. “It’s beautiful.”

  “It belonged to my great-grandmother Rose. Great-grandfather Niall sold his prize bull to get the money to buy it for his bride. Which, here in cattle country, contributed yet additional evidence to the Murphy’s reputation for being crazy.”

  “Perhaps,” she allowed. “But it was a wonderfully romantic gesture.” She traced a fingertip over the lacey filigree. “Art-Deco was such an free-spirited period. Rose must have been a very liberated woman to wear such a modern style ring. Especially here in small town Oregon.”

  “All we Murphy men fall in love with spirited, liberated women.” He watched her carefully. “After you told me about the antiques you used to collect and watching how excited you got about that banged-up old bar Mitzi found for the New Chance, I figured you preferred things with a histor
y. A past.”

  “I do.”

  “That’s why I thought you might like this.”

  “Oh, Cooper.” This time her rippling sigh was filled with regret.

  Cooper didn’t need his cop detecting skills to know that wasn’t a good sign. But along with calling the men in his family crazy, another thing people around these parts knew was that there was no quit woven into Murphy DNA. Which was why Cooper had no intention of giving up until she realized how good they were together.

  “I love you, Rachel. And unless I’ve totally misread everything, you love me.”

  “I do.”

  It was only a whisper, but encouraged by the words he’d so wanted to hear, Cooper sat down on the edge of the bed and stroked her love-tousled hair.

  “Then you’ll marry me?”

  Earlier, in the New Chance, her tears had been born of joy. The ones she was trying to blink away now were not. “I can’t.

  “Can’t?” he asked quietly. “Or won’t?”

  “Does it really matter?”

  Cooper tried to think calmly as he sought a way through this latest roadblock so they could salvage what was left of the night. It wasn’t easy as pride warred with love, ego with need. For a moment, pride won out.

  “I see.”

  When he would have backed away, Rachel grasped his arm, causing the velvet box to drop to the rumpled sheet.

  “No, you don’t understand,” she insisted, her voice as strained as his.

  “That’s what I’m trying to do. What I’ve been trying to do from the beginning,” he pointed out.

  She took a deep breath that, dammit, since he was, after all, a guy, drew his attention momentarily to her breasts. Reminding himself that it would not only be totally wrong, but against the law to handcuff her to the bed and kiss her silly until she changed her mind, Cooper dragged his gaze back to hers and steeled himself against the pain he viewed in her damp eyes.

  “I don’t know where to begin,” she said on a sad, trembling voice.

  “Why don’t you try at the beginning?” he suggested even he felt the punch to his gut.

  His roughened tone had her suddenly studying him warily. Cool move, Murphy.

  She dragged a trembling hand through her hair. “When I married Alan, I thought he was my Prince Charming. My knight in shining armor.”

  Although he could’ve done without the glowing description of her former husband right now, Cooper had accepted her feelings. “I thought we’ve already established that I don’t have any problems with your having been in love with your husband,” he reminded her.

  “We did. And I appreciate that.”

  “Gee. Thanks.”

  He’d already determined that Rachel had her own fair share of pride. Which was why his regrettably sarcastic tone had her lifting her chin. “Do you want to hear this or not?”

  “Do I have a choice?” Frustrated, he scrubbed his palms down his face. Patience. “Sorry. Please go on.”

  “I was brought up to believe in fairy tales. In happy endings.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with believing in happy endings,” he pointed out. “So long as you have a Plan B in case things don’t work out exactly as planned.”

  “Don’t you see?” Rachel dragged her hands through her hair again. “That’s precisely what I’m talking about. I didn’t have any plan. Because I left everything—every decision about my life, my son’s life—to Alan.

  “I was so thrilled to be his wife that I willingly gave up all my autonomy. I was totally unprepared to deal with the real world. It was as if, instead of living in the sunshine, the way I’d thought I’d been, I’d spent all those years in the dark, walking toward some unseen cliff.

  “And when Alan died, leaving everything in ruins, I fell off that cliff and was left hanging from the edge by my fingertips.”

  “But you pulled yourself back up.”

  “Yes. But it wasn’t easy and honestly, because of Scott, I didn’t have a choice. Admittedly, once I got to River’s Bend, I had a lot of help, which I’ll always be grateful for. But I’m not sure I could do it again.”

  He wanted to assure her she wouldn’t have to. But realized that at this moment, those words wouldn’t mean a damn thing.

  “You said you were young when you married.”

  She nodded. “Twenty-two.”

  “And Alan was what? Thirty? Thirty-three?” Rachel had mentioned that her husband had been older, but at the time Cooper hadn’t grasped the significance of what she’d been trying to tell him.

  “Thirty-nine.”

  Comprehension, when it finally dawned, allowed him to understood her continual insistence on independence, her almost obsessive drive to establish her own career, the frustrating way she’d struggled to keep him at arm’s length.

  “Hell, Rachel, that’s nearly a twenty-year difference.”

  “Alan was good for me,” she insisted. “For the girl I was.”

  “I believe that.” Damn. Tears were beginning to silently flow. He ran his thumbs beneath her glistening eyes to wipe them away. “But you’re not that vulnerable young woman any longer, honey. And what Alan never got to see, what he may have never thought to encourage, are some of the many things I love about you . . .

  “Your strength, your drive, hell, even your stubbornness, which, at times, I have to admit, threatens to drive me up a wall. They’re all part of who you are. Who you’ve become. I don’t want to control your life, sweetheart. I’m only asking to share it.”

  “I know,” she whispered.

  Cooper decided that was a start. “Have I ever lied to you?”

  “No, but—”

  “Hey.” He brushed her hair back, framing her too solemn face in his hands. “For your information, lady, I’ve always been wild about self-made women. Especially a certain successful, sexy as hell, beautiful self-made chef.

  “And I can’t wait for you to become a world-famous restaurateur so you can support me in the style to which I have every intention of becoming accustomed to. Hell, maybe I’ll retire, turn my badge over to Cal, and become your own personal boy toy.”

  Her laugh was shaky. But, okay, it was still encouraging.

  “You’re so good for me,” she said, love—oorah!—shining unguarded in her glistening eyes.

  Definitely encouraging.

  “I believe that’s what I’ve been trying to point out.”

  “And I do love you.”

  “Ditto.”

  She arched a dark brow. “Ditto?”

  Cooper looked at her with mock surprise. “Oh, did you want to hear those dreaded words again?”

  “I don’t think I could ever get tired of hearing them,” Rachel admitted.

  Cooper shrugged when he felt like singing hallelujahs to the heavens. “Well, since you put it that way . . .”

  He gathered her into his arms and pressed his lips against her temple. “I love you.” Kissed her eyelids, which fluttered shut. “Love you.” Her cheeks. “Love you.” Her adorably stubborn chin. “Love you.”

  “And I love you.” Cooper wished Rachel sounded happy about that. “So much that I couldn’t bear losing you.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” But this time he understood what she was talking about. “I’ve been there,” he reminded her. “I understand losing the person you love and having your heart broken into pieces. I know how it feels to believe that you’ll never be able to love anyone again. Thinking that no one will ever love you again.

  “Or even worse, that you might fall in love with someone, only to have them die on you, too, throwing you back into that dark emotional pit again.

  “But here’s the thing, honey. After climbing out of that pit I’d wallowed in for a long time, although I’m not going to lie and say there weren’t still dark moments, I managed to move on and became more or less content with my life. Hell, most days I was even happy.

  “But then you arrived in River’s Bend and reminded me what it felt like to be truly aliv
e. And now, since I’m laying my heart out here on the line, I’ll admit that just the idea of losing you and landing back in that pit, all alone again, is freaking terrifying.”

  “It is,” she admitted, her ragged voice barely above a whisper.

  He sat down on the edge of the bed again, took hold of her shoulders, and looked straight into her face. “But you, Rachel Hathaway, are worth it. I’m willing, no, make that aching to take the risk for the reward of spending the rest of our lives together.

  “So, in case it’s escaped your attention, I’m still waiting for your answer. About whether or not you’re going to marry me.”

  “I want to. But . . .”

  Oh, hell. Here came the waterworks again. Deciding that his heart had taken enough shredding for one night, Cooper pushed himself off the bed and began to dress.

  Rachel stared up at him. “What are you doing?”

  He pulled on a pair of gray knit boxer briefs. “Going home.” His jeans were next, followed by the forest-green wool shirt Rachel had insisted on buying for him because she’d said the color reminded her of the color of his eyes when they made love.

  “But I thought you were going to spend the night.”

  “I was.” Which, once that barrier had tumbled, was why, instead of waiting for New Year’s Eve, as he’d first planned, he’d brought along the ring. The mattress sagged beneath his weight as he sat down to put on his wool socks and boots. “But it turns out I’m a greedy man.”

  “Greedy?”

  He stood up again, reminding himself to resist temptation. To stay firm and stick to the plan to win the long game.

  “I love you. And I want more from you than just a few stolen hours, Rachel.”

  “But that’s what tonight is all about. We agreed you were going to stay all night.”

  He shook his head. “Sorry. It’s still not enough. I want all your nights. Every single long, love-filled night for the next fifty or sixty years.” Despite the serious turn the conversation had taken, he found himself smiling broadly at that idea.

  “Did you know that the sixtieth anniversary is diamonds? I learned that when I took great-grandmother Rose’s ring to the jeweler’s to get it cleaned. I figure if I start saving now, by the time I’m ninety-five, I should be able to afford a matching pair of earrings.”