Cooper (The Family Simon Book 6) (3 page)

“She did.” Morgan’s face was averted and Cooper couldn’t read her.

The old guy’s eyes narrowed. “She screw it up?”

Morgan jerked slightly but didn’t look up at him. Cooper slowly shook his head. “No. In fact, I’m here to apologize for my behaviour the other day, and I’m hoping that she’ll come back. I’ve got a job for her.”

That seemed to change everything.

“Don’t just stand there, Morgan. Let the man in. We can discuss it over a beer.”

Morgan’s head whipped up, and Cooper knew she didn’t want him anywhere near her home or her father.

“I’m sure Mr. Simon—”

“Call me Cooper.”

Her eyes flashed. “I’m sure
Mr. Simon
is busy, Dad. Any business can be conducted over the phone.” She lifted her chin. “I left a business card on the counter in the kitchen. You can call that number.”

She attempted to close the door, but her father put a stop to it. “Morgan Amelia Campbell. That’s not how we treat a customer.”

But she wasn’t giving in. In fact, she moved as if to block Cooper’s way. For whatever reason, it made him want to get inside all the more. Childish maybe, but all of a sudden, it was game on.

“It’s too early for a beer, don’t you think?” The words were tossed at her father, but Morgan’s gaze didn’t leave Cooper’s.

“It’s four o’clock somewhere,” Mr. Campbell replied. “You coming inside, Cooper?”

“Unbelievable,” Morgan whispered harshly.

Most people would take the hostility in Morgan’s voice to heart—they might wonder about it, but they’d make an offer of employment, maybe, and steer clear of any social obligation to discuss said offer. But Cooper wasn’t most people, and, being the kind of guy that he was, he took Mr. Campbell up on his offer—if only because he knew it would piss off his daughter.

“I’ve got time for one,” Cooper replied, flashing that winning smile of his at Morgan. He gave her a wink and stepped into her house.

M
organ couldn’t remember
the last time she’d been so angry. Heck, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt anything other than passive acceptance. She’d stomped back to the kitchen—stomped, like she was a volatile sixteen-year-old—and considering her bum leg, it was saying something that she managed to get all the way there without a twinge.

She then proceeded to slam cupboards shut, toss bowls into the dishwasher, and make a racket with pretty much everything she touched. And the thing was? She liked it. The anger. The heat. The emotion.

Who the hell did Cooper Simon think he was? He’d called her a charity case and basically fired her ass the week before. Now he wanted her back? And how the hell had he found out where she lived?
Charlie.
“I’m going to kill her,” she muttered.

Laughter erupted from the front room where Cooper and her father were, and she made a face. Truth be told, she almost stuck out her tongue…almost.

Her father was onto his second beer while Cooper was still nursing his first. Typical. To make matters worse, their conversation had gone nowhere near this so-called job he was looking to hire for, and they’d spent the entire time chatting about sports. Morgan didn’t give a rat’s ass about the Calder Cup. Hell, she didn’t even know what that was, and she knew hockey.

She slammed the utensil drawer shut, smiling savagely at the crescendo of sound it made, before pulling out some leftover chili from the fridge to heat up for supper. After placing the plastic container on the counter, she bent low to grab a pot from the cupboard and inhaled sharply as pain shot up her leg.

“Dammit,” she whispered under her breath. Her fingers found the edge of the counter, and she wasn’t exactly sure how long she stood hunched like that, but it was long enough for none other than Cooper Simon to sneak up on her.

“You okay?” His voice slid at her from behind.

“Do I look okay?” she snapped, before she could think on it. She squeezed her eyes shut, hating that her body could betray her like this. Especially now. With him a few feet away.

“No. You don’t.”

She counted to three and slowly straightened her body. In those three seconds, she pulled out that mask of “nothingness” she kept in her back pocket and turned around.

“Can I help you with something?” she asked, all polite and accommodating.

The man was silent for a few moments, though he watched her closely. So closely that, for a second, she was afraid he could see right through her. Morgan’s heart sped up and her face froze. It felt like if she attempted to smile or do anything, her skin would crack and she’d fall apart.

“Your father asked me to come back here and grab him a beer.”

Of course he did.

“You’re not having another?” Good. Her voice was even.

He shook his head, his mouth curving into a smile. “Nah. I’ve got to drive.”

Mouth pursed tightly, she reached for the fridge again and pulled out a Bud Light. She tossed it at Cooper, hoping like hell he’d fail the test, but of course he caught the bottle easily. The most she could hope for was a good eruption of foam when he opened it.

“So your father says you can start Friday?”

“What was that?” Morgan had turned away, but at his words, found herself staring into those blue eyes yet again.

Cooper smiled, an easy sort of thing that drew the eye to his generous mouth and strong chin.
I bet he practices in the mirror.

The thought slid through Morgan’s mind, and she nearly smiled in return, but luckily caught herself in time. She tugged at the hem of her sweatshirt, uncomfortable when his gaze followed her actions.

“The attic. I’ve decided that I need it catalogued, organized, and packed up. Your father said you can start Friday.”

Morgan didn’t have a chance to respond. The back door flew open, and Hank Johnson stepped into the kitchen. A lifelong friend and one of the only employees Campbell’s Home Services had left, he was a big man with a big smile, soft brown eyes, and an even bigger heart. Hank had been there for Morgan when her life went sideways and she’d been at her lowest. He was like family, and she was grateful for his presence.

Hank looked from Morgan to Cooper and, without a pause, held out his hand to Cooper. “Don’t think we’ve met. Name’s Hank.”

“Cooper.”

The men shook hands. “You’re Rick’s brother.”

“Can’t deny that,” Cooper responded with a chuckle.

“He’s a good guy.” Hank’s gaze slid to Morgan. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“Nope,” Morgan replied, voice a little high and way too curt.

Hank held her gaze a heartbeat longer, eyes narrowed slightly. He cleared his throat and tugged on his playoff beard. The thing was long and thick, making Hank look a bit like a mountain man. But it suited his rugged features, and he’d been sporting a playoff beard since the 2010 men’s league playoffs. The damn thing had taken on a life of its own.

“I just swung by for the keys to the plow. I’ve got to remove the snow buildup from the church parking lot before Mrs. Anderson hunts me down and makes me recite one hundred Hail Mary’s.” He paused. “They’re not out back in the shop.”

Great.
“Okay. Let me see if Dad remembers where he put them.”

She moved past the men, kept her steps slow but sure, and paused just inside the front room. Her father stood in the shadows that drenched the far corner, beside the hutch and the low-slung table filled with family photos. He was still as a statue, one hand wrapped around his Bud Light, the other in midair.

He reached for one of the photos, his hand shaking, and that pit of despair inside Morgan opened like a black hole, making her chest tight and her throat close up. In that moment, Ryan Campbell looked as lost as Morgan felt.

Her father turned slightly and held the framed photo so that the light from the window fell over it. How long he held the picture there, Morgan couldn’t say. But it was long enough for him to set down his beer and touch it lovingly with those trembling fingers of his. Long enough for him to grab it close to his chest and hold it there a few seconds more.

It was long enough for Morgan to glimpse a bit of the man he used to be. And long enough for her to know his pain was just as deep and hard as ever. That the scars left on her family after the day-when-everything-changed were nowhere near healed.

Her heart thudded, and she took a step forward but froze when her father shook his head violently and tossed the photo across the room. The sound was sharp and dead and hard as glass shattered against the wall. Morgan could only watch him in silence when he turned to her.

For several long moments, the two of them stared at each other. One, a broken man who owned a bitter, dark heart filled with rage and blame. The other, a shadow of her former self with scars that ran deep. A woman who’d forgotten what hope and love and joy were.

They hadn’t always been like this, but Morgan could barely remember the “before” they’d been.

She cleared her throat. “Hank needs the keys to the Bobcat.”

Her father scowled. “They’re in the shop.”

She kept her voice neutral. “He says they’re not.”

Ryan Campbell’s face darkened, and he finished his beer in one gulp, then shoved past his daughter with a curse. “Damn kids don’t know where anything is around here. No wonder this place is falling apart.”

Her father headed to the kitchen while Morgan slowly made her way across the room. She carefully picked up the pieces of glass from the pale green leather sofa and set them in a pile on the coffee table. The busted frame was upside-down, and she stared at it for a good long while before finally reaching forward and scooping it up.

She didn’t have to look at it to know what picture was there. And she didn’t look—not at first. But some invisible force had her turning the frame over, and she stared down at the image, not quite prepared for the deluge of emotion that churned inside her.

In the photo, taken the day of her last meet, an NCAA record-breaking event for Morgan, she stared into the camera, eyes alive, smile wide and open, her arms around her mother and father. Nathan had been there too—he’d snapped the photo.

I can’t remember what this felt like.

The thought brought hot, prickly tears, and Morgan angrily wiped them away, placing the picture beside the broken glass. She turned sharply, wincing again as pain shot up her leg, and faltered when she spied Cooper Simon watching her from the foyer. He stood by the front door, hands shoved into his pockets and looking a bit unsure.

“I, ah…” He nodded toward the kitchen. “Your father said you can start on Friday?”

More than a little embarrassed, Morgan could only nod. How much had he seen and heard?

“Sure,” she managed to say. “I’ll be out at your place by nine.”

“Okay,” he replied, reaching for the door but hesitating as he grabbed the handle. A few seconds passed, and then he opened the door. “I’ll see you then.”

Morgan slowly made her way to the kitchen, grateful to see Hank and her father both gone. She stared at the chili on the counter. At the crack in the window above the kitchen sink. At the worn linoleum beneath her feet.

Everything looked tired and worn-out. She was tired and worn-out.

With a shaky sigh, Morgan turned on the stove and went about the business of getting dinner ready. She did what she always did when things got too intense. She shut down. Clamped down on anything that could make her feel. It was how she got through life, and getting through was pretty much all she could handle. For now, it had to be enough.

“
T
hat damn dog
is going to be a monster. You know this, right?” Cooper slapped Maverick on the shoulder and chuckled when the animal in question, Stanley, jumped at Rick, leaving a trail of mud down the front of his jeans. The puppy barked excitedly and then ran in circles before attacking the large bone Maverick had brought for it.

Rick shook his head and glanced down at his dirty jeans. “I keep hoping he’ll stop growing, but he eats like a horse.”

“Yeah well, I’m not letting Stanley into the house.” Cooper handed his brother a coffee. The two of them were on the front porch enjoying the brisk morning. Sunlight made everything better, it seemed, and with a sudden rise in temperature, he could almost smell spring in the air.

“Where does the beast sleep anyway?” Cooper took a sip of his hot brew and leaned against the porch railing.

Maverick shrugged. “Where else? The bed.”

Cooper’s head snapped up at that. “You let that small horse sleep in your bed? I’ll bet Charlie isn’t too happy about that.”

Maverick made a face. “She’s the one who invited the bloody thing in when it whined all night a few weeks back. Said it was cruel to leave him in the cage. Now as soon as we turn the lights out, he’s in our bed before we even make it up the stairs.”

“And how’s that working for ya?” Cooper smiled wickedly. “I didn’t take you for an exhibitionist.”

“What?” Maverick looked confused, but only for a moment. He cupped the hot mug between his hands and blew on the hot liquid. “Trust me. I’m not getting naked anywhere near that dog. You see the size of his paws?”

“Huge.”

“Damn right they’re huge. And what do dogs like to do?”

Cooper chuckled. “Fetch balls?”

“You got it.” Maverick’s face split open in a grin. “I don’t want Stanley anywhere near my baby-making balls.”

“I hear ya, brother.” Cooper started to take another sip from his coffee and froze. “What did you say?”

Maverick’s grin was still very much in place. “I said exactly what you think I said.”

Cooper tossed his coffee mug over the railing and grabbed his brother in a bear hug. The two men hugged like guys do, a quick hard embrace followed by a heavy pat on the shoulder. Afterward, Cooper and Maverick stood in silence and watched Stanley rip into the bone. This was a big deal. Cooper knew that Maverick and Charlie had been trying to have a baby for a few years now. And that Charlie had suffered a miscarriage in her fourth month just last fall.

Cooper let Maverick have as much time as he needed, and eventually, his brother cleared his throat, though when he spoke, it wasn’t hard to hear the emotion he was feeling.

“She’s just past the first trimester, and I know Charlie is a little stressed heading into these next few weeks, but the doctor says everything looks good, and there’s no reason to think she won’t carry this child to term.”

Cooper was going to be an uncle. Pretty damn sweet. “Have you told Mom yet?”

Rick shook his head. “Nope. Gonna wait until next week.”

Cooper frowned. “Why next week?” The smile on his brother’s face put Cooper on alert.

“Because she’s coming out here for Easter.”

“Easter?” Cooper jumped down the steps and retrieved his coffee mug. “It’s only March. Hell, St. Patrick’s day is this weekend.”

“Easter’s early this year.”

“Huh.” Son of a bitch. Cooper glanced up at his brother. “She’s not staying with me.” He loved his mother. He really did. But the woman was high-strung, overly dramatic, and a general pain in the ass. She liked to ride him for a lot of the choices he made, which he found ironic considering pretty much every choice she’d made since the day their father had passed was a bad one. Still, she liked to poke in his business. Mostly because she had no idea what his business was, and he was okay with that. The general public thought of him as a wealthy playboy, and he didn’t give a shit.

But he didn’t need to hear it from his mother. He got along better with her when they had space between them.

“I figured you’d say that.” Maverick looked pained. “Don’t worry about it. Charlie’s already insisted she stay with us.”

“Is she bringing Teddy?” Ever since their father died, their mother had become a career divorcée. She was currently involved with a much younger man.

Maverick shook his head. “Nah. She’s on her own. I talked to Calista yesterday, and I think there’s trouble in paradise.”

Cooper wasn’t surprised. “Again.”

“Again,” Maverick repeated.

Cooper frowned. “What’s going on with Calista these days? She called a few days ago, and I returned the message but haven’t heard back.”

Maverick handed Cooper his empty cup. “Seems our little sister has filed for divorce.”

What was there to say to that? Cooper had seen the writing on the wall since Calista’s wedding day when he’d spied her new husband, Zachary, getting a little too friendly with one of the…

“Apparently, hubby was spending a lot of time with one of her pals, Jessica.”

“The bridesmaid.”

“Yep.” Maverick snorted.

“Called it.”

Maverick whistled at his puppy. “Well, she doesn’t sound too torn up over the whole thing. Told me she was heading to Europe with a couple of girlfriends and didn’t know when she’d be back.”

Maverick whistled again, and this time, Stanley dropped his bone and lumbered over to the two men, tail wagging madly, nose rooting around Rick’s pockets for a treat. Once he found what he was looking for, the puppy ambled back to his bone and plopped down.

“Saturday night, we’re heading to the fire hall for St. Patty’s day. You should come. Charlie and I had a blast last year. It’s a big deal around these parts.”

“That’s because half the town is Irish.”

Maverick chuckled. “True. But it’s for a good cause. Fundraiser for the firemen’s association.”

“I’ll let you know. Depends on how much work I get done.”

“And how’s that going?”

“It’s going.” And it was. Slowly. Cooper rolled his shoulders and shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “I’ve got Morgan Campbell coming out tomorrow to start work on the attic for me.”

Maverick looked surprised. “Thought you didn’t want anyone out here.”

“Changed my mind. The space up there is incredible, and I’d like to take advantage of it.” He eyed his brother. “I stopped by their place yesterday.”

“Whose place is that?”

“The Campbells’.”

“Ah.” Rick fingered his mug. “And?”

“There’s a lot of pain in that house.” He watched his brother closely. “You know anything about it?”

Maverick shrugged. “I’ve heard some things, but not real clear on the details. People around here are pretty closemouthed. They look out for their own and are selective when it comes to their flavour of gossip.” He chuckled. “Don’t get me wrong. It’s a small town. They like to talk. But there are some things that aren’t up for public consumption, at least to outsiders like us. The Campbell situation is one of them.”

Cooper wasn’t one to pry, and he sure as hell wasn’t one to gossip. But something about the look in Morgan’s eyes made him want to know more.

“What do you know exactly?”

“I know up until recently, Morgan was living in California. I know that her father drinks more than he should and that her sister is separated from her husband. I know that there was some kind of accident and that the mother and Morgan were involved. But that’s about it. I asked Charlie once, but she’s of the opinion it’s Morgan’s story to tell.”

“That’s what Jess said.”

“Jess?”

“From the diner.”

Maverick nodded. “Like I said, they protect their own here.”

Cooper was silent for a few seconds, mulling over the information he’d been able to glean. He’d been thinking of nothing but Morgan Campbell since he’d left her place. The look on her face when she’d picked up the shattered frame had been indescribable. Considering Cooper was a writer, that was saying something.

“Why do you care?” Maverick called Stanley to his side and reached down to scratch the top of the dog’s head.

“Just curious is all.”

Maverick let it drop, gathered up his muddy dog, and hopped into his truck. With a wave, Cooper headed back into the house. He strode through the quiet rooms and retrieved his laptop from the kitchen table before heading out to the shop.

After briefly considering calling his mother, and just as quickly deciding to wait until the evening, he settled in for a day of work. The sun was shining, his muse was beginning to wake up, and, as his Aunt Virginia always said, “Ya gotta make hay while the sun shines.”

It was time to put aside his curiosity over Morgan Campbell’s story and get to work on the only one he should be thinking about. The one Lee Holloway needed to tell. Always one to dig deeper, Cooper knew he had time to learn Morgan’s story. He wasn’t exactly sure why it was so important to him. Was it the look in her eyes? Or just plain old curiosity?

Either way, he needed to push all thoughts of Morgan Campbell and her family aside. Cooper Simon had to disappear, and Lee Holloway needed to make an appearance.

He rolled up his sleeves, opened his document, and got to work.