by Donna Alward
“Okay.” He gave in, releasing her completely. “You win.”
“Thank you for a wonderful evening, though.”
He put his hand in his pocket. “You up for a second date?”
“Even though I’m sending you away...unsatisfied?”
“I thought you said you were leaving me wanting more. I want more.”
The air sizzled between them. “We’re going to do this, then?” she asked quietly.
“I want to. I want to see where it leads. Don’t you? It doesn’t have to be any heavier than that. Let’s just see where it takes us, Mel.”
“And what if it doesn’t work?”
The smile slid from his face as the tone suddenly turned serious. “Then we can say we tried. And no matter what, we stay friends. No more going back to the way things were, I promise.”
“I promise, too. I didn’t really enjoy hating you all that much.”
“When can I see you again?” He didn’t want to wait a week. Or even days. He wanted to see her as often as he could. Every minute.
“I suppose Tuesday-night bingo at the community center doesn’t float your boat.”
“I could live through it if you were there.”
She laughed then, a light, musical laugh that he hadn’t heard in years. “I won’t make you do that,” she replied. “Let’s just meet up for dinner at the diner, then go for a walk or something.”
It sounded perfectly boring. “If that’s what you want.”
“I’ll meet you there at six, right after the store closes. How does that sound?”
He’d rather she asked him here for a private dinner for two, but she was bent on taking it slow. His head told him that was the right move, no matter what his libido was screaming right now.
“Perfect.”
“Coop?”
“Hmm?”
“Kiss me once more before you go?”
Kissing her was the easy part of the request. The just once part? He was going to have trouble with that.
* * *
For two weeks Mel let herself be wooed into Coop’s definition of dating. They went to the diner on Tuesday and decided on burgers and fries and milkshakes as a throwback to high school days, then took a long walk along the creek in the dark. He stopped by the shop once with a bag lunch and convinced her to eat with him on a bench along Main Street, soaking up the sun. On Saturday they drove to Edmonton for a movie, sat near the back of the theater and held hands. The next week they took a short drive to the coffee shop out on the highway for dessert, and she took a precious few hours one afternoon to go riding out at the Double C.
There were kisses, but Coop was on his best behavior, with no more suggestions to take things further. Which was a shame, because being kissed at the door was leaving her distinctly unsatisfied. If he was trying to leave her wanting more, he was definitely succeeding.
They made plans to eat at the diner again, and Melissa told herself that tonight she was going to ask him to her place for their next date. She could cook and they could share a meal without being so incredibly visible to the town. Besides, she had a very nice sofa in her living room and she wouldn’t mind more than a few stolen kisses outside the circle of her porch light.
She dressed for their date when she went to work, as she’d head to the Wagon Wheel as soon as she turned over the Closed sign. Mel wore the boots he’d admired that Sunday at Callum’s. She chose them because he liked them, and it meant she could wear one of her favorite outfits—snug denim leggings and a scoop-neck tee with her sweater-coat overtop. It was casual but fun, and she put her hair up. Maybe when Coop walked her home, he’d take the clip out and run his hands through her hair the way he seemed to enjoy....
Tuesdays weren’t the busiest night at the Wagon Wheel, and when she walked in the atmosphere was relaxed and friendly. A few tables were occupied, a gray-haired man was putting quarters into the genuine jukebox, and the twang of a country classic filled the air. Off to one side she saw Coop. He was early and was talking to Clara and Ty Diamond. Melissa took a minute to simply stare at him and appreciate the scenery. Mercy, he was good-looking. No one could wear a pair of jeans like Coop. The denim was wearing around the pockets, the faded spots strategically placed for her viewing pleasure.
Beside him, Clara was in maternity clothing, and as she was reaching into a diaper bag, her one-year-old daughter, Susanna, made a wobbly dash down the aisle between booths. With a laugh Coop reached out and snagged her midstride, scooping her into his arms.
Instead of fussing or squirming, the little girl giggled, reached out and patted his face. He said something and then tapped his cheek with his finger. Susanna leaned forward and delivered one sloppy wet baby kiss there. Mel was dangerously close to melting. Then Coop’s eyes closed—just for a second—and he gave the baby a tender kiss on the head before handing her to her father.
It was a strange moment for Mel to realize that she was in love with him. Not just sentimentally affected, or that she could love him, but that she did—a bone-deep, right-to-the-center-of-her-soul kind of love. So much for taking it slow and seeing where it went. Or being in any way casual about what was happening between them.
She loved him. She loved him so much that it was freaking her out right now. So much that it was suddenly hard to breathe and she could feel the beginnings of an anxiety attack. This wasn’t supposed to happen. They were supposed to be casually dating. Exploring. Not... Oh God. Not this. She couldn’t do this.
She slipped out the door before he could see that she’d arrived and jogged away from the diner, trying to put some distance between them. Her breath came in shallow gasps. When she turned the corner, she stopped and pressed her hand to her chest, trying to steady her breathing. He was going to be expecting her at any moment, but she couldn’t go back there. Couldn’t go in and have supper and act as if everything was all right. It wasn’t. She didn’t know what to do with the sudden rush of feeling.
For the longest time she hadn’t been sure she was even capable of being in love. She’d thought she was before, but recognized now that she’d been far more enamored with the idea of love than actually in it up to her eyeballs. But here it was, and it honestly felt as if the earth had fallen away beneath her feet.
She pulled her cell phone from her purse and sent him a quick text message, saying she wasn’t feeling well and needed to take a rain check, and that she’d call him later.
Once at home she changed into fleecy pajamas and shoved her hair into a ponytail. What was she going to do? She wasn’t ready for this, and she certainly wasn’t ready to tell Coop how she felt. She was smart enough to know that the reason she’d been so very angry with Coop all this time was because she’d felt betrayed and abandoned, and it had damn near killed her. It had been the darkest period in her life—realizing that her husband didn’t love her, and losing her best friend. She’d understood then that she was an easy woman to leave. And she’d promised never to let herself be that emotionally vulnerable again.
And here she was. She’d let down her guard, agreed to make amends, and found herself in a worse predicament than she could ever imagine. She loved him. Something he’d said that day at the creek echoed in her head: I’m not sure you ever get over someone you really love. It was time she faced the worst truth of all. The greatest loss from the breakup of her marriage wasn’t her husband, but her best friend. He was the one she couldn’t get over. And if they took this thing all the way and it didn’t work out...
It would be ten times worse. A hundred. She would be...empty.
She reached for the tissues. This had truly gone beyond taking it easy and enjoying each other’s company, beyond seeing where it would lead. This was the real deal. She knew, because it had never hurt to love this way before. It had never caused this paralyzing fear.
The third tissue was bal
led up and thrown on the floor when there was a knock on her door. She knew without asking that it was Coop. She should have known that a text message wouldn’t keep him away.
“Mel? Open up.”
She wiped her eyes and went to the door, knowing he’d knock until she opened it. Hopefully, she didn’t look too bad; at least with the runny nose she might be able to fake it. There was no way she was going to let on the real reason she had red eyes and was in her pj’s. She had to sort through her feelings before she could have this conversation with Coop.
“Just a sec,” she called, deliberately making her voice sound stuffy. She took a deep breath and opened the door.
“Dear God, you look awful.”
He, on the other hand, looked amazing. He always did. The jean jacket was back and so was the plaid shirt, only it was clean for their “date.” His hat was perched on his head, throwing his face half in shadow. It was dead sexy, and she felt her resolve weaken.
“I don’t know if it’s allergies or a fall cold, but my head is plugged,” she lied.
“Allergies? But you’re a florist.”
Damn. She was so off her game. She forced a shrug. “Fall cold then. Sorry, Coop.”
He bent his knees a bit so that he was on eye level with her. She stayed still beneath his scrutiny.
Coop rose up again and held out a paper bag. “Martha put together a container of chicken soup for you.”
Her throat clogged again. Of course. She’d said she wasn’t feeling well and Coop had decided to make her feel better. As if she needed one more reason to love him.
“That’s so sweet.” She reached out and took the bag.
“You sure you’re okay? Do you need anything?” A wrinkle formed between his eyebrows.
She hated lying. She was certain he could see right through it. But how could she possibly come right out and say what was going on? Considering what he’d told her about his own feelings, she wasn’t ready to be that open. That honest. That...intense. That was it. Things would get really intense, and right now just realizing that she even had these feelings was overwhelming. She needed time. Time to decide what to do. What she wanted. Time to simply get used to the idea.
Not just that. She was in love with her best friend. Perhaps they’d taken a hiatus, but she knew deep down that was what Coop was. He’d been her best friend, and the last two weeks had shown her how close they still could be. There was something so very heavy about having this many feelings for one person. So much potential for things to go wrong.
So much to lose.
“I’m going to be fine, really,” she assured him. “I’m going to eat my soup and go to bed, and I know I’ll be much better tomorrow.”
He looked disappointed that she didn’t ask him in, just stood in the doorway to her house, shutting him out. “If you’re sure...”
“I am. But thank you, Coop. For the soup. And sorry about tonight.”
“It’s no biggie. We’ll do it another time.” He stepped ahead and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Feel better.”
He went back to his truck and she shut the door.
What on earth was she going to do now? She couldn’t avoid him forever. Nor did she want to.
She just needed time to think. To sort things out. And to make a plan.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
COOP KNEW DAMNED well that whatever had made Mel’s eyes puffy and red, it was no allergic reaction or fall cold. That kind of look only came from hard crying. She could sound as congested as she wanted, but he knew. She’d blown off their date and she’d been home crying, and whatever had gotten her upset, she’d been so determined to keep it from him that she’d lied about it. The last time she’d had a hard cry, she’d gotten her period. Though he hated it, a little voice inside him asked what else she might have lied about. They’d never talked about her giving up her plans for IUI. He’d just assumed, when they started seeing each other...
He watched one of the hands bring a dun-colored stallion named Crapshoot back to the stable. Standing at over sixteen hands, he was a big, beautifully muscled animal whose strong hindquarters could turn on a dime. He’d bring a pretty penny, but Coop was tempted to keep him for himself.
Tonight, though, he wasn’t in the mood to spend longer in the stables. He was restless. It was clear to him that Mel was avoiding his calls, and in the ones she did take she said things like it was really busy at the store, or she was on her way out the door. It annoyed the hell out of him. Almost as much as it hurt. He hadn’t expected her to blow him off. Not like this.
Then again, he always did make a habit of expecting more from Mel than she delivered.
A small voice inside told him that wasn’t fair, but he was mad enough that he didn’t listen. Not just mad. Afraid. Being with her these last few weeks had taken all the feelings he’d tamped down and given them the opportunity to run free. He’d stopped imagining what it would be like to hold her in his arms because she’d actually been there. He knew what she tasted like, the way she melted against him, the sound of her voice on the phone late at night. He’d given himself permission to love her again. And boy, did it hurt.
Enough was enough. If this wasn’t going to work, he had to know. Playing games, not being honest—they couldn’t maintain a friendship that way. And even though the very idea tasted like ashes in his mouth, he knew that was what he’d promised. Friendship.
It was full-on dark by the time he’d showered and got up the gumption to drive over to her house. Light glowed from the front window—her living room—and it flickered, letting him know she had the television on. A week ago they would have been out together, having coffee or looking at the stars or just talking on the phone. Not now. Something drastic had changed, and he wanted to know what.
He knocked on the door.
It took a minute, but finally the dead bolt clicked back and she opened it. “Hey,” she said.
“You look like you’re feeling better.”
She smiled softly and it damn near broke his heart. “I am, thank you.”
“Can I come in, Mel?”
His gaze caught hers. Her eyes were wide and soft and he lost himself there for a moment. Then she lowered her lashes and stepped back. “Of course. Come on in. I’m just switching some laundry over, but I’ll be right back. Make yourself at home.”
The television was turned on to a popular crime drama and there was a cup of tea, half-gone, on the end table next to the sofa. He took off his hat and put it on the back of a chair, then ambled through to her kitchen. It was cozy and warm, painted a soft cream with dark red accents. The oak table had a red plaid place mat in the middle and there was a small bouquet of flowers, too.
It was strange that he’d never seen her kitchen before, but she’d always made sure they went somewhere else on their dates. The closest he’d ever come to inside was helping her with her coat the night they’d first gone to dinner.
By keeping him out of her house she was always able to keep him at arm’s length. Never let him too close. He got it now, and felt just a little bit like a fool.
He heard the beep of the washing machine somewhere in the hall behind the garage. Absently, he picked up a stack of adverts from the mail that was strewn on the counter, flipping through flyers and coupons. A slip of paper fell to the floor. He picked it up and saw the scribbled appointment in Mel’s delicate handwriting. The appointment had been for two days ago. His heart tumbled down to his toes. He should have listened to the warnings in his head.
She came back from the laundry room and stopped short at the sight of him in the kitchen. “Oh,” she said, then gave a small smile. “Can I get you something to drink, Coop? I was having tea, but I’ve got other stuff in the...”
“Cut the small talk, Mel. I don’t have the stomach for it.”
Her eyes widened and he
r cheeks paled at his sharp tone. “Okay, let’s cut to the chase then. Why are you here?”
“To find out why you’ve suddenly started blowing me off. Looks like your cold is all better, by the way.”
He heard the sarcasm in his voice and exhaled. This wasn’t how he’d planned on talking. He wanted to be reasonable. Calm. But the paper he held in his hand had taken those intentions and blown them sky-high. It certainly told him where he ranked on her priority list.
“I never had a cold,” she admitted.
“I know. I can tell a virus from a bout of crying. You’ve been avoiding me ever since.”
“I can explain that. Please, why don’t we go in and sit down. Let me get you a drink and—”
“Does it have anything to do with this?” he asked, holding up the paper.
Her eyes lit on the note in his hand, then slid over to meet his gaze. “Where did you get that?”
“Off your counter.” He swallowed tightly. “Were you going to tell me, Mel? Have you already done it?”
She frowned. “Done what?”
He shook the note, hurt, angry, unsure of what to call the other emotions rattling through him right now. “This is the clinic, right?”
She nodded. “Yes, but—”
“And even after last time, after you turned down my offer, after we started seeing each other, for God’s sake, you still went ahead? Again?” He shook his head. “I trusted you. I thought we had...that we were...”
He loved her. He’d offered to father the child she wanted so badly. He’d wooed her, for the love of Mike. And she’d left him out, shut him out, gone ahead with her original plan as if he was nothing. As if what they had meant nothing. As if they had absolutely no future together, but she hadn’t felt it necessary to tell him.
He tossed the paper on the table and walked out of the kitchen.
“Hold on a minute, Coop.” Her command stopped him halfway to her front door. “How dare you! How dare you come in here and make assumptions and proclamations. What exactly are you accusing me of?”
