Cooper (The Family Simon Book 6) (9 page)

Cooper watched his mother until she disappeared from sight. His stomach was tight, his nerves all shot to hell. He glanced at his brother. “I guess we gotta trust she’s not leaving anything out?”

Maverick sighed and rubbed the back of his head. “She seems good. Tired but good.”

Cooper nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

A heartbeat passed. “Okay.”

Cooper took his time getting to his truck. He started the damn thing and let it run a good ten minutes before heading out of town toward his place. When he got home, Stanley was whining to be let out, and once the dog was done doing his business Cooper let the bundle of fur follow him upstairs. The dog climbed onto his bed, and Cooper didn’t give a rat’s ass.

He lay in the dark for a very long time, staring up at a ceiling that had no answers for him. His mother was sick but okay. He’d kissed a woman he barely knew, and it was all he could think about. A woman with scars that could be seen and a lot that were hidden.

Just like Holly.

“Shit,” he murmured, slamming his eyes closed. He grabbed his pillow, punching it hard until it was just right. Holly Adams had nearly done him in.

It was a good thing, then, that Cooper wasn’t planning on getting involved with a woman like Holly. No way was he going there. He needed to put Morgan Campbell out of his mind and get some sleep.

He needed to finish his book and get the hell out of Fisherman’s Landing.

With a plan firmly in place, Cooper relaxed, but sleep was elusive and dawn was breaking when he eventually fell under its spell.

A
ugust 15
, 1951

Thomas wants to go all the way, but I’m so confused. I mean, I love him and all. Every time we make out, I can barely contain all the feelings in me. It’s like they’re trying to punch holes through my skin, and I want to get as close to him as I can. Last night, I even let Thomas take off my shirt. Good. Lord. (I can tell you, journal, that I’m blushing as I write.) I let him take off my shirt and put his hands inside my bra, and then he undid it. Thomas took my bra off, and I let him. It felt so good when he touched me. But then I thought of what Mama says. About how boys only do those kinds of things with girls of a certain reputation, and I got scared.

I think Thomas was a little bit mad when I asked him to stop. It was hard for him. I could tell. His face was red, and he was all sweaty. And that little tic beside his mouth was beating a mile a minute, I swear. He drove me home from our special parking place, and he hasn’t called me today. I hope I didn’t screw things up, because I love him more than anything.

Maybe I should just let him do the things he wants to do? Will he think less of me? Why is being in love so hard?

V.P.

W
hy indeed
, Morgan thought.

She closed the journal and tucked it back in the folder she kept in the top drawer of the desk she worked at. She pushed back on her chair and stood on stiff legs. She’d been up here for hours, and with the sun setting in the sky, she knew it was time to leave.

She glanced around the attic. “Just a few more days,” she murmured, and then she’d be done with all the organizing. She wasn’t exactly sure what came after that, and the thought of talking to Cooper about it made her more nervous than she’d like.

If only he’d never touched her.

“Ugh,” she muttered, scooping up her jacket from the back of the chair. It was Friday evening, and she hadn’t seen Cooper since…well, since a week ago. Since the kiss. The thing was? She still wasn’t exactly sure what she thought about the kiss, because, sure, it had scared the crap out of her, but it had also been kind of incredible. And confusing.

She hadn’t felt anything other than anger and pain and fear in so long that to experience want and need and
passion
had thrown her for a loop. And to feel all those things with someone like Cooper Simon didn’t make sense as far as she was concerned.

That first day back, she’d come in an hour late and practically sprinted into the house and up to the attic. Sprint being a relative term, of course, since she couldn’t run faster than old Mrs. Samuels. She’d stayed up there—holding her breath every time she heard him enter the house, and then expelling it in a hot mess when he left again. She figured out early on that he was avoiding her as well, and even though she was guilty of the same thing, it still kinda sorta stung.

Just a little.

She winced. Okay. It stung a lot.

Morgan slipped her jacket over her shoulders and peeked out the window that looked over the back of Cooper’s property. The light still burned from inside the shop, and she was confident if she left now, she wouldn’t run into him.

Not that he wants to run into me.

“Just shut up already.” She was losing it. Seriously. Losing it. She snapped off the light and headed for the stairs, taking them as fast as she could. Her hand was on the doorknob when she paused. A strange feeling washed over her, and she glanced over her shoulder, letting out a little squeak when she spied a shadow in the hall.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

Cooper’s voice was gruff, and she tried to still her fast-beating heart as she slowly turned around.

“You didn’t…” She licked suddenly dry lips. “You didn’t scare me.”

Where the hell had he come from?

He stepped into the light, a crooked smile on his face, and her stomach did that funny thing again. The one where it exploded and went crazy and then dipped so low, it made her feel nauseous. He looked as if he hadn’t shaved in days, and his dirty-blond hair was askew. Adorably so. Old jeans hung loosely on his hips, he was barefoot (there was something insanely hot about a guy in bare feet), and a rumpled navy Henley completed his outfit.

He rubbed his jaw, that slow smile making her stomach churn harder than ever. Was he doing that on purpose? And even if he was, what the heck was up with her?

“I’ve had a weird week,” he said, eyes dark and shiny in the half-light.

“I have too.” Did that just come out of her mouth? “I mean, I’ve been busy in the, ah, attic.”
Stop talking.

“Work not going well?” Thank goodness her mouth decided to take a break, because A) she was out of breath and B) she sounded like an idiot.

He nodded. “You could say that.” He stretched and yawned. For a few seconds, neither one of them said a thing, and then Cooper glanced at his watch.

“Didn’t realize it was so close to dinnertime.” He seemed to be considering something, and when he slowly raised his head and met her eyes, her stomach tumbled again. This time, she was ready for it and managed to keep her composure—though she was pretty sure her candy-red cheeks were a dead giveaway to the turmoil inside.

Turmoil that she didn’t want to analyze or even think about.

“You want to maybe get something to eat?”

Wait. What?

“I…” Startled, she had to work to keep her mouth from falling open. Didn’t work, and Lord knows she wouldn’t have a problem catching flies. Lots and lots of flies.

“I have no food in the house, and I’ve been alone all week, so I wouldn’t mind some company. Maverick told me there’s a great Italian place in the neighboring town.”

She didn’t say a word, because, bloody hell, she couldn’t. Fidgeting, she worried the edge of her sweatshirt, wishing the floor would open up and swallow her whole. Her vocal cords were still frozen, and all Morgan could do was stare back at Cooper in silence.

“What do you say? Feel like Italian? I could pick you up on my way through town. Mom’s gone, and I’ve got to drop off Stanley at Rick’s.”

At the sound of his name, Stanley wagged his tail and pressed a wet nose to Cooper’s thigh, barking softly when Cooper ran his hands over the dog’s head.

“He’s going to miss you.” The words fell out of her, and her breath caught in the back of her throat when he suddenly looked up.

Cooper held her gaze for a few minutes and ruffled the back of Stanley’s neck, much to the pup’s obvious delight. “He’ll miss the treats I’m not supposed to give him.” Cooper shrugged and straightened. “But yeah, it’s time. I don’t want the poor guy thinking this here is permanent or anything.”

Right. Cooper would be gone as soon as he finished doing whatever the heck it was he was doing in the shop. Morgan should have no feelings either way on that particular subject, and yet…

“So,” Cooper said, taking another step closer. “Dinner?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“Why not?” He shot back, eyebrows arched in question.

She shrugged but didn’t answer.

“What are you afraid of?”

Okay. That annoyed her, maybe because it was a little too close to the truth. “I’m not… Nothing.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Something in his tone got to her, and she straightened her shoulders. They stared across the foyer at each other, almost like adversaries, and she swore the temperature tripled. Hot and more than a little bothered, she tossed her hair back. “What is this?” she finally asked.

“What is what?” A ghost of a smile swept across his face.

Okay. So he was playing that game. Morgan was having none of it.

“Why do you want to take me to dinner?” He opened his mouth to reply but she plowed ahead, not giving him the chance to say a word. “Better yet, let’s forget about whatever
this
is right now. Answer another question for me. Why did you kiss me the other night?”

Again he opened his mouth, but whatever the hell had awakened inside Morgan wouldn’t let her
let
him speak.

“Was it the wine? Was it just a fluke? Because I know you don’t make a habit of kissing girls like me. Or was it a gut reaction to a movie that was emotionally devastating? Is that it? Do you get off on the pain of others?”

His lips tightened, and his eyes narrowed. His hands, once relaxed, were now clenched at his sides and if Morgan had been paying attention, she would have realized she’d just pissed off Cooper Simon. Big-time.

But she wasn’t paying attention. How could she? The anger inside her pressed hard. It was hot and big and confusing, and it took over.

“Wait.” She yanked on the collar of her sweatshirt, jerking her head to the side. “Is it because of this?” Breathing heavily, she yanked even harder, exposing more skin than anyone had seen since the accident. She watched him closely, but his face gave nothing away.

“Do these scars make you feel sorry for me? Do you wonder what happened? How I got them? Is that it?” She pulled her shirt back up, choking on nothing but air, anger, and a sadness so big, it left room for nothing else.

Slowly, his hands loosened, his gaze never leaving hers. It felt as if he could see right through her. She shivered, surprising because she was so damn hot.

“Yes,” he said, watching her closely.

“What?” Surprised, she blew out a piece of hair that stuck to her cheek and took a step back. “What did you say?”

“Yes. To all of it.”

Stanley whimpered, and her gaze fell to the dog panting at Cooper’s side. She felt sick to her stomach.

“I don’t want to go to dinner with you.” She whispered the words, her eyes blurring. Angrily, she scrubbed at them and turned around, blindly reaching for the door.

“I kissed you because I wanted to. Because the light made your hair shine and your skin glow. Because your smile was soft, and I liked seeing it. It made me wonder what you’d feel like.”

She bit her lip.

“I kissed you because I wanted to, and I wanted to for a lot of reasons. But mostly I kissed you because in that moment, it was all I could think about. Because it felt right. I touched you because I couldn’t help myself.”

She yanked on the doorknob, the ache inside her slicing hard.

“I asked you to dinner because I’ve had a shit week, and I thought it would be nice to know more about you.”

Morgan exhaled a shaky breath. “I don’t want to go to dinner with you.”

“I think you’re scared.” His voice deepened, and she sensed him a few feet behind her.

She blinked rapidly and waited until her heart rate slowed down, and opened the door. A heartbeat passed. Scared? She was more than just scared. Hell, there wasn’t even a word for what she was feeling.

“Good night, Cooper.”

With that, Morgan hurried outside, streaks of red and orange coloring a sky she barely glanced at. She trudged through mud and tufts of green grass, ignoring the quiet fall of dusk, and slid into her car. She pointed it toward town, all the while thinking hard. What was the word she was looking for? What was it that she felt?

It was something she thought about all the way home, though the word never did come to her.

C
ooper wasn’t exactly
sure what made him swing by the Campbell place. Maybe he took a wrong turn without thinking. Maybe he was bored with his own company. Or maybe he was a glutton for punishment. Whichever it was didn’t matter all that much in the end, because at about ten to eight that evening, he found himself in front of Morgan’s home.

He cut the engine, his gaze on the lights shining from the windows of the house, and sat in his truck for a couple of minutes, contemplating what exactly it was he was doing. Because being here on Morgan’s doorstep wasn’t what he’d planned on when he’d headed to town.

Morgan had made it more than clear he made her uncomfortable. He’d crossed a line with her, and she hadn’t liked it.

Not. One. Bit.

He swore and sank deeper into the soft leather seats, hands drumming against the steering wheel. Maybe he should just leave. Head out to this great Italian restaurant on his own, have a nice glass of wine and some pasta. Maybe meet a lady willing to spend a no-strings-attached night of hot sex with him, and call it a day.

Except that wasn’t what he wanted. Well, the sex part he could use, but the other? Some nameless woman he’d never see again? That wasn’t what he
wanted,
at least not tonight. The thought should have surprised the crap out of him, but for some reason, it didn’t.

For the first time in a long time, he wanted to spend the evening with a woman because he wanted to know her.

Cooper thought of the scars he’d seen. Of how she froze as soon as he’d touched her. And that led to so many damn questions, the main one being, why did he care so much? What was it about this woman he barely knew that intrigued him to the point that he found himself sitting in his truck, in her driveway,
uninvited and unwanted,
racking his brain for a way to make her come to dinner with him?

“Shit,” he muttered, reaching for the ignition. He should just leave.

He was just about to start up his truck when the front door flew open and Morgan appeared. Her hair swirled in the wind, and she grabbed at it, slamming the door behind her as she took a step down. It was then that she saw him.

Then that she froze.

Then that his chest constricted and his heart began to beat faster. What the hell was wrong with him?

The two of them stared at each other for several long moments until Cooper shook his head and thought, fuck it. Sure she’d already shut him down, but he’d never been the guy to give up, especially when he was going after something he wanted. She would say yes or no.

He would end up at La Spagatt with or without her.

Cooper opened his door and slid from the truck, pulling up the edge of his coat as the wind rattled toward him, shaking the eaves and loosening old, rotted leaves. He walked toward the house, noticing for the first time Morgan had no coat. Her skin was pink, that thick silky hair all over the place, and those eyes of hers looked like massive, shimmery circles of ice. They really were amazing.

She’d changed. Gone were the sweatpants and oversized sweatshirt. Instead, she’d pulled on black jeans tucked into knee-high boots and a midnight-blue turtleneck.

Her lips were parted and she was breathing hard when he took the first step.

“I…” She looked confused. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought maybe you might like to join me for dinner after all.”

She opened her mouth as if she was going to speak, but nothing came out. He knew he’d just managed to surprise the hell out of her. It was now or never. Cooper used the one tool that never failed him. He angled his head and smiled up at her. It was the kind of smile his mother said meant trouble, which was funny, because truthfully, it was the kind of smile that most times got him
out
of trouble.

It was the kind of smile that had never been practiced—it came naturally to Cooper. Not his fault the ladies lost their senses when he directed it their way. And sure, it might be a bastard move to use it right now, but…

But nothing. She stared down at him and just…nothing.

Well, shit.

There was no answering smile. No softening of her mouth or lightening of her eyes. There was no coy movement or gentle acceptance.

Double shit. Cooper knew he could do one of two things. He could go big, take nothing but yes for an answer, or he could retreat. He was considering the possibilities of both when Morgan spoke. Her voice was so low, he didn’t hear her.

“What was that?” he asked, watching her closely.

“I’ll come.” Her voice was husky—usually the kind of thing he liked, but something was off, and he frowned.

“Is everything okay?”

She took a step down; that soft mouth of hers thinned. “Yep.”

Something was definitely off. “You sure you’re not forgetting anything?” he asked gently.

Her head shot up. “Do you always grill your dates?” She said something very unladylike and shook her head. “Not that this is a date or anything, so don’t go getting any ideas.”

“Of course not. This is just dinner.”

She darted a look over her shoulder. “Then can we go?”

“Sure.” He went for a smile again, thinking this time it might work. “I thought you might want to grab a coat or something.”

That surprised her. She glanced down and ran fingers over the tops of her jeans but then took the last two steps.

“I’m good.” She walked past him stiffly and Cooper followed her to his truck.

The ride to La Spagatt was quiet—the only thing to break the silence were Morgan’s directions. By the time they reached their destination, Cooper was strung as tight as a bow, and he rolled his shoulders when he stepped out of the car. He had to wonder what it was he thought he’d accomplish tonight, but when he saw Morgan hesitate before joining him, something inside him shifted. It was a protective something, and it should have been a warning to him that things were about to change. Big-time.

But Cooper ignored that little voice and watched her closely.

She stood by his truck, staring up at the quaint restaurant, shivering slightly. Her eyes, luminous as ever, were wide and shiny, but it wasn’t anticipation he saw there. It was fear.

“We can go somewhere else.” He spoke gently, thinking maybe this place was a bad idea.

Morgan didn’t respond right away and, after a few moments, turned to him. “You must think I’m the most screwed-up person you’ve ever met.”

Cooper shook his head and offered his arm. He’d seen a lot of crazy in his lifetime. “Not even close.” He cocked his head to the side. “Coming?”

After a few seconds, she slid her arm through his, and they headed inside. La Spagatt took up the main floor of a century-old home. Built for show, the Victorian-inspired house was grand and opulent, and, now converted into an Italian restaurant, it was lush and surprisingly subdued. They were greeted by a tall, thin man with a full head of snow-white hair, pale gray eyes, and eyebrows as black as soot. The man, Mr. Valenti, was the owner and obviously proud of his establishment as he led them to a small alcove in the first room to their right.

La Spagatt was quite full, and Cooper realized they were lucky to get a table considering he’d not called ahead for a reservation. The ambiance was soft and romantic, and he watched Morgan as she settled into her chair. Her skin glistened, and sweat beaded the top of her lip.

“Have you been here before?” he asked, watching her closely.

Morgan’s gaze swept the room before settling on his, and damn, something inside him jumped up hard.

She nodded slowly. “A few times.”

There was a tremor in her voice, and when the waitress suddenly appeared, she jerked a bit.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” the waitress asked. The server was young, early twenties, with a dark pixie cut and brown eyes that widened when she glanced at Cooper. He knew the look. She either recognized him or thought she recognized him. A by-product of being a Simon, especially the one with the uncanny resemblance to his famous cousin, Beau.

“We’ll have a bottle of red wine.” He looked at Morgan questioningly, but her gaze had dropped to the table. “A nice Malbec, I think.”

“Sounds good,” the waitress replied. She cleared her throat, setting menus down on the table, and shot a look toward Morgan. “Aren’t you Sara Campbell’s sister?”

Morgan flinched. He saw it, and he was pretty sure the server did as well. “Yes,” she mumbled.

Before the server spoke again, Cooper cut in.

“Thanks. That’s all for now.”

Morgan glanced up when the waitress left, shoulders tight, her complexion pale under the muted lights. The candle in the middle of their table reflected in her eyes, making them appear more luminous than ever.

“Hey,” he said softly, willing her to look at him. She’d grabbed a napkin, her fingers nervously tugging the ends. “Morgan.” He reached across the table and slid his hands over hers and kept them there even as she tightened up and would have withdrawn.

“We can leave if you want to. Go somewhere else.”

“No,” she murmured. “I’m good.”

He held on and waited until she looked up at him. Her eyes were full and shiny and, he thought, maybe on the verge of tears. The urge to draw her into his arms was strong, and he couldn’t look away if he tried. In that moment, something changed. A connection was formed, tentative and unsure, but there nonetheless.

“I’m glad you came,” he found himself saying slowly. He sounded like a teenager and didn’t give a damn.

A heartbeat passed. She licked her lips. Exhaled. Relaxed.

“Me too.”

It was only two words, but it was enough. He arched an eyebrow. “You’ve been here before, so what do you recommend?”

Morgan gently disengaged her hands from his and reached for the menu. “It’s been a while. Let me have a look.”

She bit her bottom lip, concentrating as she read the menu, and Cooper settled in his chair. The server brought them their bottle of wine. It was smooth with a hint of oak, just the way he liked it. He sipped from his glass slowly, watching Morgan as she relaxed, and something rolled through him. It was electrifying and sharp and punched him hard in the gut.

He sat up a bit and felt like a king when a half smile crossed her face. The night was young and full of possibilities. And that feeling inside him? It was one he’d not felt in a long, long time.

Anticipation.