Lines We Shouldn't Cross, page 9
My eyes drift from the kitchen window overlooking Pippa’s backyard to the double glass doors in the living room leading out to the deck and outside stairs. At first look, the place is decent enough. Funny how memories make even an average space seem like a million bucks.
Last time I came here was after Granddad’s funeral, hunting for an old photo album Pippa swore I’d find here. I remember plopping down on the living room floor, leaning against the couch, flipping through the pages, trying not to lose it. Back then, the dated interior didn’t even register. Now, with fresh eyes on this place—hot damn, so much potential to work with.
Curiosity gets the better of me, and I turn back toward the bedroom. I noticed the open door when I went into the bathroom earlier. Now, I’m dying to take a closer look. Clothes pile high on a chair, rumpled bed sheets and covers strewn about. For a hot second, the question crosses my mind—does he share his bed? Is there some woman leaving her things scattered here? Does he have a girlfriend? Casual flings? Oh, hell no. That is none of my business. I give myself a mental slap for even going there.
What is keeping him so long in the bathroom, anyway? A sudden clatter of things hitting the floor, followed by a curse, answers my question. I wince, picturing Cooper rummaging through the cabinets and knocking a jumble of toiletries out in his search for the first aid kit.
“So, how long are you planning on staying here?” I blurt out the rude question, regretting it the moment the words are out. Why on Earth did I say that? This isn’t the right moment to discuss this. The other night, I spit the question out because I was mad as hell. That was then, and this is now. Since I can’t undo it, I bite my lip, praying he didn’t hear.
“Checking out my bedroom already? Moving a little fast there, Sunshine.”
I jump at his voice, so close to me. Cooper’s stepping out of the bathroom, first aid kit in hand. The tiny space beneath the brick threshold shrinks around us, and I take a step back, my shoulder bumping against the wall opposite the bathroom door.
His eyes lock with mine, and I’m acutely aware of how close we are in this narrow hallway.
“I, um…” I clear my throat, trying to dislodge the sudden lump of discomfort choking me. “Sorry if you think I’m interested in your… personal affairs.” The blasted heat rushes back, announcing my embarrassment all over my face. “That’s not what I meant at all,” I hastily backpedal.
Liar. My mind was absolutely wandering in directions it shouldn’t go.
“Personal affairs?” Cooper chuckles, the sound low and inviting. He scrapes a hand down his face, drawing attention to his strong jawline. “I usually save those for the second date, but for you, I might make an exception.”
Did he seriously suggest…
“Excuse me?” I manage to sputter before finding my footing. I arch an eyebrow, mustering as much sass as I can. God, who turned on the furnace full blast in here? My cheeks burn with what I imagine is a shade of ripe tomatoes, and if that’s not enough, there’s a flutter in my stomach I don’t care to analyze.
“Pretty bold of you to assume there’s going to be a first date, Cooper. Your ‘affairs’ have to stay personal for a while longer.”
Unbidden images of Cooper and that bed flash through my mind, each more inappropriate than the last. Jesus, the heat pumping through my veins makes it hard to think straight.
Whoa, okay. Pump the brakes, Ella. Stop letting him get under your skin.
Right, what’s the matter with me picturing him… this way? He’s practically a stranger. Though against my will, those wide shoulders, tousled hair, and casual confidence take on a new dimension. One that is—hello, surprise—undeniably mouth-wateringly masculine.
“Relax, Sunshine.” A grin spreads across the jerk’s face. “I’m messing with you.” His eyes flick down to my hand, and his expression shifts to something more serious. “Your hand needs ice. Come on, let’s get some on it before it swells up like a balloon.”
I blink, momentarily thrown by his sudden change in demeanor.
“Yeah, the hand. Ice. Good idea.” Ugh, could I sound any more like a breathless teenager? Nice one, Ella. The guy's got me acting like a complete spaz, and I want to smack myself for letting him scramble my circuits this easily.
Taking a deep breath, I square my shoulders and will myself to relax. Tiny, the giant, ambles over and nuzzles against my leg. The coarse fur against my skin grounds me, pulling me out of my head. It’s strange how the dog’s touch immediately centers me.
“You okay there, Sunshine?” Cooper hikes a brow, a mix of amusement and concern on his face. “You’re looking a little… flushed.”
I meet his gaze steadily as my composure clicks back in place.
“I’m fine, thanks. “Just a bit warm.” I reach down to scratch Tiny behind his ears. “Now, about that ice?”
“Come on, let’s get that hand taken care of properly.”
I follow Cooper into the kitchen, watching as he puts the first aid kit on the table.
“Have a seat,” he says, nodding toward a chair. “I’ll grab some ice and a towel.”
He saunters to the fridge, each stride showing off those jeans in a way that's criminally unfair. Seriously, who makes grabbing a beer this sin-worthy?
As I settle into a chair, he opens the freezer compartment and removes an ice tray. A blast of cold air swoops my way. Do they even make this kind of fridge anymore?
Cooper cracks ice cubes into a clean kitchen towel, and my gaze wanders over the living room. The familiarity of the space washes over me, and memories flood back. Words bubble up, spilling out before I can stop them.
“You know, I wasn’t judging your mess or anything earlier.” I pause, deciding to keep my thoughts about his ‘activities’ to myself. “It’s…that… this place holds a lot of memories for me. I was thinking of ways to make it nice when I move in.” Sweeping my uninjured hand across the living space, I add, “This entire place could stand a makeover.”
Cooper returns with that makeshift ice pack. “Let me see your hand.”
I lay my forearm on the table, and he leans in, thick brows furrowing as he wraps the towel around my hand. The sudden cold makes me wince. Relief floods in immediately. The man’s hands are strong and rough from working outside, yet each touch is gentle and controlled as he secures the icy towel in place. I’ve noticed it the other night, the way he poured the wine. A shiver runs through me, chasing goosebumps up my arms. I blame the icepack, but even I don’t believe that lie.
When he’s finished burying my hand under a mountain of ice, he steps back from the table.
“Want something to drink? I’ve got beer, Old Forester, or plain old water.”
“Oh, I see. Is that how you do it? Bring a wounded woman into your place, show her the appropriate concern, then the drinks come out?” As soon as the accusation leaves my lips, I want to crawl under the table and disappear. Way to thank the guy for helping, genius.
Cooper seems unfazed by my quip. A mischievous gleam enters his eyes, his lips lifting at the corners.
“Now, there’s a thought. Not my style, though.” His gaze drops pointedly to where my uninjured hand rests on the table, trembling noticeably. “Figured a drink might steady those nerves since your hand is shaking.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from rolling my eyes, then feign exasperation when I meet his teasing look.
“Icepack?” I challenge. “Of course, I’m a little cold.” Softening my tone, I add, “Thanks for the offer. Tap water is fine.”
Cooper fills a glass at the sink, then grabs a longneck for himself.
“Sunshine,” he says, sauntering back and taking the seat next to me. “Looks like we’re stuck together for a minute.” Curiosity glimmers in his eyes. He surveys the room as if seeing it through fresh eyes. “So, what would you do with this place? You mentioned wanting to give it a makeover.”
The question pulls me out of my awkwardness. “I’d start with the bathroom. A modern glass shower, brushed nickel fixtures, mosaics, teal towels. Make it pop.”
“And in there?” He tilts his head in the direction of the bedroom.
I shrug, allowing myself a small smile. “I’d want to keep the bed frame. It was my favorite piece.”
“You used to hide out there or something?”
I nod, nostalgia washing over me. “It was my sanctuary. Just me, my books, and my journal, spilling all my teenage drama onto those pages.” Those treasured journals are sitting boxed up in Pippa’s attic now. Maybe one rainy day, I’ll dig them out and get a chuckle out of what I wrote.
“I’d spend hours up here, reading, getting away from the hustle and bustle of the main house,” I say.
“Let me guess, cheesy romances?”
“So what if they were?” I narrow my eyes, tossing him a challenging look. “I was young, alright?” And sometimes a girl needs a good happily ever after.
He laughs, and the sound is warm and non-judging. “So, don’t grow old. The world could use more romance.”
There’s something in his eyes—a flicker of… what? Regret? Bitterness? It’s gone before I can pin it, and all I see now is curiosity.
“And in here? What would you keep?”
I scan the room, my gaze landing on a table beside Granddad’s worn-out leather recliner. “That side table there, though I don’t remember it.”
“It’s mine.” A hint of pride colors Cooper’s voice, and I’m surprised how much I want to smile, having picked something of his. “What else?”
“There’s a lot I’d keep. The rustic walls, the plank floors—all those imperfections add depth and character. The only thing missing is a plush rug to add warmth and softness.”
Cooper’s eyes follow my suggestions. When his gaze skirts over me, a flush creeps up my neck. Is he looking at me the same way he’s looking at the apartment?
“You’ve got a good eye. I can see why Pippa wants you by her side with the business.” His smile is slow, almost predatory, and my stomach does another little flip. “Sounds like you’re excellent at judging interior spaces.”
His voice does this low, gentle thing that sets off a riot of butterflies in my stomach. I tell myself he's just making conversation, but there's something in the way he says it, the way those laugh lines appear at the corners of his eyes, that makes me feel warm and fluttery all over.
Then Jax’s ghost whispers in my ear, listing every little thing wrong with me and drowning me in doubt. Your laugh is too loud. It’s embarrassing when we’re out in public… You really need to tone up your abs. I like my women fit…That ponytail makes you look like a kid. Why don’t you wear your hair down like a real woman?”
What the hell am I doing? A guy like Cooper… he’s nothing like the men I’ve dated before. What if he’s better at hiding his judgment? What if he sees all my flaws, all those little imperfections Jax used to point out?
The question lingers, yet…
Sweet Jesus, the way Cooper affects me is unsettling. It’s like I’m back in high school, all awkward and fumbling. I don’t like feeling so off balance, so out of control. I can’t remember the last time I felt like this around a man. Hell, have I ever?
“Too bad, though,” he says.
What? Did I miss something?
His gaze doesn’t waver as he leans back in his chair, taking a slow pull of his beer. The bottle lingers at his lips for a moment before he sets it down, his eyes still fixed on mine.
“Too bad I’m not moving until Pippa kicks me out.” Then he winks.
Argh, why does he have to be so… infuriating? If his cheesy little gesture meant to make me flush and get flustered like some sheltered schoolgirl—congratulations, mission accomplished. Except it’s not dizzying butterflies I’m feeling. My pulse spikes with irritation. Of course, the cocky jerk wouldn’t give me a straight answer on when he’ll be moving out. Well, I should have expected that.
“Listen, Ella. I want to apologize.” His tone’s all sincere, lacking the playful edge from moments ago.
What? The way he shifts gears gives me whiplash.
“I was an ass to behave the way I did toward you the other day. It wasn’t fair to you, and I’m sorry.”
Wow. I hadn’t expected that. I shift in the chair, caught off guard by the surprising change.
“Thank you, Cooper,” I say in a tone as soft as his. “I appreciate that. I’m also sorry.” I look at him, my eyes meeting his intense green gaze. An unspoken understanding seems to stand between us, as though we’re both acknowledging the damaged connection from when we first met.
“For what? You did nothing wrong, Sunshine.”
And the tease is back. There’s the guy I’m starting to… enjoy bantering with.
“I overreacted,” I say.
With a flick of his hands, he brushes my words away.
“Mind telling me what you were planning with the ladder? When you’re done, you can tell me what kind of butthole I am.” The crinkles around his eyes deepened as that half-smile pulls on his lips.
Uh-huh, he absolutely had to remind me of my words.
I open my mouth with a snappy comeback on my tongue. Instead, I exhale slowly, and any urge for heated banter simply… deflates. Arguing is the last thing I want right now.
Tipping my head, I respond, “I don’t mind telling you about the ladder. Though I’d rather skip the name-calling and focus on how you’ll turn Pippa’s front yard into something spectacular. Is that okay with you?”
“Fair enough.”
“Okay. So, about the ladder…”
By the time I wrap up my story about Granddad’s sign, the frozen cubes melting on the back of my hand make my teeth chatter.
“I’m okay now,” I say, removing the icy towel.
“Alright. Let’s look at those scrapes.” Cooper takes a bandage from the first aid kit, the wrapper rustling as he tears it open, then unscrews the cap from a tube of antibiotic cream.
My gaze subtly traces his stubbled jawline, the crinkles fanning from his eyes, and the dark hair curling over his ears as his rough fingers travel over my skin, applying the cream. The gesture feels strangely intimate, igniting sparks across my back. His fingers hesitate for just a heartbeat.
Don’t be ridiculous, I scold myself. What’s the matter with me, anyway? A little teasing, a little tender care… is that all it takes to get me all soft inside?
As he bandages my hand, each meticulous wrap around my hand, each brush of his finger against my skin sends tingles up my arm. When he’s secured the dressing, Cooper lifts his gaze to lock eyes with me.
“There, all set.” His voice takes on a rumbly, husky quality that makes the butterflies go crazy. “You positive you don’t want a splash of that Forester now, Ella?”
The way he lets my name roll off his tongue feels like a physical caress. Unbidden, my eyes drop to the shape of his mouth when the absurd notion of tasting that bourbon on his lips flashes through my mind.
Hell no. I need to strike that mental image from my head before it can take root.
“I’m sure. Thank you for everything.”
“No need to thank me.” Another careless shrug shifts those shoulders beneath the cotton of his tee. “Doing what any decent neighbor would do.”
I half expect another grin or smirk, or whatever, when he leans down to ruffle the neck of his hound, who’s lying between our chairs.
“Right, buddy?” The dog’s tail thumps on the floor as Cooper speaks to him in a low tone. “Gotta keep an eye on our neighbors.”
It’s weirdly adorable how this big, rugged guy can be so casual and loving with the enormous dog. Dammit, against my will, my heart gives a silly little flutter at the sweet sight.
As if sensing my eyes on him, Cooper lifts his chin, brushes off his hands, and arches an eyebrow.
“Well, ready to measure your sign and take a look at the front yard, Sunshine?”
Outside, on the small deck, a soft breeze carries hints of lavender, blending with the earthier scents of the woods beyond. I follow Tiny down the stairs, feeling Cooper’s eyes on my back, sensing the warmth radiating from his body. My pulse quickens from being so close to him on the narrow stairs. However, I’d be crazy to let my guard down. I’m here for Pippa and the B&B, not getting tangled up with the renter. No matter how helpful and… um… ridiculously delicious he is.
“Be careful.” Cooper’s voice breaks through my thoughts. “There’s a loose board at the bottom of the stairs I need to fix.”
“Thank you.”
Okay, Ella, game face on. I’m keeping things one hundred percent professional with this yard makeover. No more naughty thoughts about the hot guy in the carriage house. One look at that crooked grin, though, and I know keeping my distance will require more willpower than I possess.
For the love of Pippa, this is going to be a long project…
Chapter 11
Cooper
Afew taps on that thrifty app, and I’ll have the measurements for Ella’s sign in no time. Should I give her a hard time about not simply putting the tape measure on the floor to get an idea of the size she’s looking for? And get her all flustered and huffy, insisting she would’ve figured it out? Hell, no, I’m not that stupid.
She’d busted her hand over getting those numbers, wanting to name this place after her grandfather. I get it; keeping his legacy alive means something to her. It’s the whole reason I came back to take over this garden center instead of walking away. So, I’ll clamp my mouth shut and skip the lecture.
A flash of movement in my peripheral view draws my gaze to Ella. Tiny, that fur heap, sprawls at her feet, belly-up, and begs for a scratch.
“Someone’s angling for attention,” I say as I fish the phone from my pocket. “But don’t let that pitiful act fool you. He’s usually a lot pickier about who gets to rub that belly.”
