Faithful (7 page)

Jeremy was supposed to be my reform boyfriend. After all the shitheads I dated, I was done with falling for the gorgeous assholes. Jeremy was my unassuming, rather average-looking boyfriend who, for several months, treated me like I was a precious gift.

In hindsight, that was part of the problem; I was happy to be in a different kind of relationship, and Jeremy was just happy to have any kind of relationship. I should have known we were headed nowhere. I had felt it in my bones. I was hanging on to a guy who was gentle and intelligent, and we started out with the kind of sweetness that happens when a bashful guy gets up the nerve to ask out a woman he thinks is out of his league. Perhaps it’s egotistical of me to say that, but it’s true, and yet, I still tried to make it last, ending up shocked that he could break up with me. Also egotistical yet true.

I assumed it was the excitement and stress of starting a new job thousands of miles away that kept Jeremy from talking about our future. Therefore, we didn’t discuss details about where we were headed; we kept saying we’d do long distance for a while and then the conversation would always end there.

It certainly ended, and what a role reversal it was for me. After I hugged and kissed Jeremy goodbye, I received one text that he’d moved into his new apartment, and then blip, the guy was gone, never to be heard from again, never returning my calls or texts.

More than heartbroken, I was humiliated over being dumped. Naturally, I was sad, and then I was
mad
. After Jeremy, every man who attempted to ask me out met my sharped-tongued alter ego, a mean bitch who’d ram a hot poker up their ass if she were given the opportunity.

I can’t explain why I was so angry, except that I thought I had carefully selected a better man this time around. Plain guys like Jeremy weren’t supposed to turn into spineless shits. Obviously, my sweeping generalizations about men and dating have been off the mark, and my failed relationships have resulted in making me cynical more than anything.

I can’t even say that I’ve actually experienced real heartache. You have to fall wildly in love first for that to potentially happen. I have had many lust-filled crushes that ignited and burned out before the calendar would be flipped over to the next month, and it never bothered me. I was that type of girl: crush on him, swoon over him, have sex with him, fight with him, get bored with him, then dump him. That seemed to be the only type of relationship that could be fostered in high school and college, at least for me.

Then Cooper came to town, all six and half feet or whatever of him. He’s taller than Jeremy. I know because they had one week where their schedules overlapped at Blackard Designs, and I remember sizing Jeremy up to Cooper. That should have been a red flag to me.

Jeremy came into the diner with Cooper for lunch, and while Jeremy rambled on about this elusive interview Carson had hooked him up with in California, I was eyeing Cooper. Not in an obvious way, but you can’t
not
look at the guy. He stands out that much. For the love of God, a hot guy moved to town who wasn’t like a brother to me. However, I wasn’t about to become friendly with Cooper, even after Jeremy fled with his shriveled pecker between his legs, because I was still working off my dumb theory about men.

Cooper has paid dearly for my prickly personality over the last year, but after these recent events—a drunken kiss, a sober kiss, and an upcoming social outing—maybe I can try to be friends with him after all.

I’m attempting to play it cool in front of Lauren, and for my benefit, she’s acting like it’s no big deal that her favorite biker, whom I have portrayed as my nemesis for many months, is taking me out to peruse an estate sale.

“Don’t forget the business credit card,” Lauren says as I pop into the workroom to see her current project. “It’s still in the freezer.”

“I can’t use it if it’s frozen.”

“Imogene, people put their credit cards in blocks of ice so they can’t overindulge with them. You put ours in the freezer next to the vodka. The card may be cold, but it works. You can spend up to two thousand. That’s affordable in terms of payments and interest.”

“I hate that.”

“I do, too, but we need the good stuff to make the next twenty designs we have. If we can get them done in the next two weeks, Sasha’s will buy them all. So please don’t back out of this auction like you did last week at the Goodman estate.”

“Maybe you should go to the Murphy place with Cooper. You’re more pragmatic about this stuff.”

“Oh, no. I’m still doing the bead designs,” she says, holding up a fistful of colored markers. “I want all the design sheets done by tomorrow so we can start filling the trays. That’s going to take fucking forever.”

“Then let’s make some less elaborate necklaces.”

“No, Sasha’s
likes our big three-tiered ones with the showy lockets and the drop pearls. If you can get some jet pieces, do. I’d love to put some Edwardian beads into these new designs.”

“I’ll do my best.” I sigh, thinking of the cost, even at estate sales where they are highly motivated to negotiate a price down.

Lauren pauses in her work and regards me for a moment. “You look different. Nice.”

“Didn’t I look nice at Yadi’s party?”

“Yes, but today you look better, more relaxed or carefree. Something is different, and it kind of lights up your face.”

That’s because a Viking reminded me what it’s like to have worn out, bruised lips from a passionate kiss.
I admit, the irony of the situation has made me happier than I’ve been in a long time. I did not expect it to come in the way of Cooper Mackenzie.

“I have no idea what you are talking about. This is nothing special. Archie started this whole thing by telling us about the estate sale and mentioning the jewelry, so we’re going to check it out. That’s all this is.”

“Okay,” she replies softly and smiles as though she doesn’t want to set me off on one of my unflattering Cooper rants. I can’t blame her there.

“Okay, then, so I’m going to go get our very cold credit card out of the freezer,” I say, checking the time on my phone. “And I’m going to meet him out front. He said he’s always on time.”

“He is.” Lauren nods her head. “He’s very punctual. And tidy. Very tidy for a guy.”

“Now you’re being weird. I’m going.”

“All right, but don’t kick Cooper in the balls, it wouldn’t make for a good date. Have fun. He’s a nice guy.”

“It’s not a date. Cooper insisted on taking me to this because he wants our business to do well. He’s doing this for you because you’re his friend … and Leo is his best friend.”

“All righty. If you say so.” She smiles and quickly goes back to her various drawings.

I huff and leave her to her work. I don’t want to discuss this new wrinkle in my stay-away-from-Cooper plan.

I retrieve the frigid credit card from the freezer, grab my purse, and head out the front door in time to see Cooper arriving. He comes up the dirt driveway, straddling his hog with the whole package: sunglasses, black helmet, faded jeans, and a white T-shirt. On top of that, he’s got a sexy, wide smile. What woman wouldn’t want this man picking her up for a … a friendly shopping excursion?

Seven

Cooper gets off his Harley in one sleek motion of grace and power and hands me an extra helmet from the back of the bike.

“So, you don’t mind riding on my bike?” he asks, lifting his shades and studying me from head to toe before settling on my face.

He’s noticed that I don’t resemble the French fry girl from earlier. My ponytail is gone, and my hair has been freshly washed and styled in long, loose waves. My skinny jeans show off my nice ankles, the only part of me that never gains weight, and I’m wearing my ballerina flats which are more flattering than the black running shoes I wear at work. And, yes, I have highlighted my eyes with liner and eye shadow and worked some magic on my chapped lips. No cleavage, but from Cooper’s reaction, I’ve managed to transform the pissy waitress into a more pleasant, feminine version of that chick.

“Why would I mind riding on your bike?” I ask, strapping the helmet on.

“Some women get nervous on my … on these things. They’re loud and …”

“Pfft! Your bike is the only reason I agreed to go with you to this auction.”

Cooper smiles. “I told you to be ready, but I don’t think you ever agreed.”

“Well, I’m ready, so let’s go before I change my mind.”

Once Cooper swings his leg back on his bike, he revs it up for show. “Hop on and hold on tight, baby.”

“Don’t call me that,” I say as I slip on my sunglasses.

He chuckles seductively, and just for that, I wrap my arms around him extra tight. Although, instead of holding his waist, I have one arm across his stomach and the other across his chest. It’s sort of an erotic stranglehold.

Sometimes, I like to call guys on their flirty behavior, and for the most part, they’re generally surprised. Cooper’s no exception. I feel him startle under my groping hands, and then he exhales slowly as if to calm himself.

When we hit the county road at top speed, I lean as close as I can to his ear. “Oooh, I’m so scared!” I shout into the wind then feel Cooper’s booming laugh under my hands as every hard muscle vibrates.

It takes us a good forty minutes to find the stately home outside of Woodstock. Whoever lived here had money; the Victorian house and immaculate grounds have been well preserved.

I let go of Cooper’s warm body and swing myself off the bike, which is not easy to do in snug, skinny jeans. My legs still feel hot and wobbly from the reverberations of the bike; as a result, I do a full-length stretch and arch as I take in the surroundings of the home; the landscaping; and all the cars that are parked in the large, semi-circle driveway. As I stand up again, Cooper is suddenly in front of me, gently removing my sunglasses. It’s a completely innocent, helpful gesture, but as his fingers graze my face, my eyes pause a little too long on his.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asks in a low voice.

“The ride was fine,” I reply, my gaze going from his eyes to his lips. I must have a dazed expression because Cooper begins unfastening my helmet.

“Let me get this for you.” His voice draws my attention back to his beautiful eyes.

Of course, everything about him is gorgeous in the setting sun on a glorious spring day. This guy’s assets shine: the tousled hair; the sun-kissed skin; the tall, hard body that apparently I’ve already had the opportunity of climbing.

After he takes the helmet off me, I’m about to reach up and run my fingers through my hair to fluff it when I see that tenacious look in his eyes. He’s going to kiss me again.

“No, we …” I’m cut off by his lips that lightly graze my own.

“Yes, we can,” he mumbles and pushes into my eager mouth. His hand wraps around the back of my neck as he kisses me thoroughly until I’m well acquainted with his tongue … again.

When he pulls back and studies my sated expression, his mouth curves with satisfaction.

“See? We can do that. We do it very well.”

“Cooper, we’re starting to become friends. I think. I don’t want to be the kind of friends that screw around with each other, though. I have no interest in that.”

He sighs, annoyed. “I never said I wanted to be friends with benefits.”

“Okay … good. Then we’re on the same page,” I add, nodding my head. “And I have something for you.”

When I open my small wristlet purse and pull a wad of cash out, Cooper’s expression visibly darkens. “It’s your cash. I can’t keep your tip, and I can’t sell my friend a necklace at my retail prices. I can’t take your money because it makes me feel like a failure.”

Cooper is silent as he looks at the cash I’m holding out to him. He’s not making a move to take it; therefore, I grab his hand and put it in his palm. It’s a replay of what happened earlier in the day, and at the time, Cooper was more generous, maybe a little miffed yet laughing about it. However, now he appears to be quite pissed off.

“If we’re really
friends
as you put it, then this wouldn’t be a problem because friends help friends.”

“I gave you the necklace at cost because, when friends start loaning or giving cash to other friends, it becomes weird and uncomfortable. I am very uncomfortable with this,” I explain.

“Then it appears we have a serious fucking problem with our
friendship
,” he punctuates with disgust.

“Please, keep the money this time. Lauren and I are handling the business, and we have Archie coming onboard. I can do this without taking money from you, but I really appreciate—”

“When you started the business, you accepted money from Carson, right?” he says, cutting me off in a clipped tone.

“Ah …” Boy, this is not what I wanted. We went from fun, social banter and a few stolen kisses to accusations and hurt feelings.

“Lauren told me,” he explains. “So, you don’t have a problem accepting money from your friend Carson.”

“That’s different. It was a small loan, and he’s practically my brother,” I say in my defense. “It’s not weird between us.”

“Okay, so it’s me.” He steps closer and blocks out the remaining sunlight as he towers above me, observing my silence. “I have my answer,” he says as he removes his wallet from his back pocket and puts the bills in it.

“What answer?”

“Accepting money or help from me is awkward for you because I’m a different kind of friend to you. I’m the friend you’re actually interested in.”

I scoff while I think of a clever comeback, but words evade me because this guy is on to something I have not been willing to admit to anyone else. I am attracted to him, although he’s another distraction from what I’m supposed to be doing—working hard at running a business.

“A few kisses doesn’t mean I want more than that. We’re friends,” I reiterate, as if it makes it truer.

“Yeah.” He puts his arm around my shoulders and guides me towards the house. “Let’s go buy stuff, friend.”

While Cooper gets lost in the living room where the military artifacts are on display, I head into the enormous dining room where the jewelry is being sold. The expensive pieces include diamonds that are encased in locked table vaults and being sold as individual pieces. The less expensive, antique jewelry is showcased on velvet trays and being sold off in numbered lots.