Best I Ever Had, page 2
I’m sure she means something entirely different than the images populating my brain. I finish the soup, then dig into my paper. The professor crossed a line when she threatened me with an F. So what if I skipped some classes and forgot about a few assignments? I aced the tests, and I’ll be golden when I finish this paper.
If only something more interesting didn’t hold my attention. It’s when I’m watching her flutter around the shop that I realize that, unlike the party, she doesn’t blend in here at all despite the dark-colored clothes.
No, Story is just the book I want to read.
But if memory serves me right, and it always does, she had a boyfriend back in August.
Fuck.
Troy Hogan.
He and I have had more than our fair share of encounters. None went well for him. The thing is, Story was never in attendance. Did they break up?
Catching her eyeing me, I grin. She smiles from behind the counter like I didn’t just bust her and keeps staring at me. I don’t mind those hazel eyes on me, but I can’t figure her out.
When that Lou character calls her over again, I check her out. Five-three. Five-four max. Hair kissing the middle of her back. Even through the heavier material of the clothes, I can tell she’s got a rockin’ little body. She doesn’t come off as the type of girl to hide her curves. She just has the confidence to wear what she likes.
Passing by, she drops off a glass of water and swipes the empty plate and bowl. I’d forgotten about the coffee since I only ordered it so I wouldn’t get kicked out of the place. I take a sip of it even though it’s cooled. I really need to focus, and maybe the caffeine can help.
I stick in my earbuds, turn on a white noise track, and start where I left off in my research. I’m not sure how long I’ve been working, but when I sit up to stretch, I notice half the place has emptied out.
Story hops off the counter and comes over with a water pitcher. As she tops off my glass, she says, “I never did get your name.”
I’ve thought about this girl over the past five months, wondering what ever happened to her. I’d see Hogan and look for her to pop out of his beatdown truck. That never happened. But here she is as if something bigger just played their hand, and we’ve hit the jackpot. I hold my hand out. “Cooper.”
She slips her hand in mine, and when we shake, she says, “It’s nice to meet you, Cooper.”
“The pleasure’s all mine.” Our hands fall apart. Since I was never one to beat around the bush, I ask, “Are you seeing anyone?”
2
Story Salenger
Cooper is so handsome that my body warms under his golden boy glow.
What’s not to love or lust when it comes to that razor-sharp jaw or the way his green eyes pierce their target even in the dim light of the coffee shop? Broad shoulders and tall enough to make me feel tiny in his shadow? I can’t determine if his athletic build was crafted through workouts or living life to its fullest.
I can’t even get started on that hair that’s just shy of black to match the images I’ve already created of him, or I’ll be weaving my fingers through the soft waves like he’s been doing. It’s a tic of his, just like the way his jaw tenses when he’s trying to read my mind. With determination set in the pupils of his eyes, I think he might be thinking about more than my social life.
Strangely, I’ve never seen him around—not on this side of town per se but not even on campus. And although he’s asking about my relationship status, I’ve also wondered about his and who the lucky girl in his life might be and what she looked like. By the clothes, I’m pretty sure a girl on his arm would be on the designer side of fashion instead of walking around in ripped tights and an old sweater.
I’m just not sure that I should get involved in a relationship with only one semester left before graduation. I’ll be gone from this town as soon as I receive my diploma.
On the same token, telling him I’m single isn’t the same thing as shacking up with the man. Man . . . that’s the difference between Troy and Cooper. Troy was a child with too much jealousy coursing through his veins and wasted time on his hands. His troubles were never idle, and I was tired of being dragged into his messes.
Cooper’s here doing schoolwork as though he cares about his future. It’s refreshing. I reply, “I’m not dating anyone.”
He looks down and smiles to himself, but when his eyes find mine again, there’s such an honesty in his confidence. Not arrogance. He’s just sure of who he is. I probably shouldn’t find that trait so attractive.
From what I’ve learned, the brunt of arrogance and confidence are one and the same. So why would Cooper be different?
I used to be more carefree before . . . Give him a chance.
He angles himself toward me in his chair. “I probably shouldn’t ask during finals week since I’m sure you have enough going on in your life, but what do you think about getting together over the holiday break? After the semester wraps up?”
“You don’t even know if I’m a student.”
He scans the room but then comes back to me. “Sure, I do. Everyone here is a student.”
“Lou’s not.”
“Lou comes here because he likes you.” His gaze deviates past my hip in Lou’s direction. “He can’t stand seeing me talk to you.”
My head whips around to see Lou’s eyes bolt back to his screen. When I look at Cooper, he cocks an eyebrow as if his point has been proven while a smug smirk sits firmly on his expression, giving me a sneak peek of the arrogance that proves my point. He sits back and crosses his arms over his chest. “Am I wrong?”
He’s not. Lou comes here for the good coffee and to see me. He’s never mustered the nerve to ask me out, but I know he wants to. “Lou is . . .” I roll my eyes. “It doesn’t matter about him. We’re talking about us.”
“I like the sound of that.”
Tilting my head to the side, I ask, “Of what?”
He leans forward and dips the tip of his finger in the pocket of my apron. Pulling me closer, he then stands and leans to whisper in my ear, “The possibility of us.”
My heart beats quicker as his words race through my veins. The warmth of his breath breezing across my skin has goose bumps rising as if on command.
I lift my chin, causing our cheeks to brush together. “I’m starting to suspect that Zeus’s storm raging outside isn’t the only god messing with the fates today.”
Leaning back, he catches my gaze and stares into my eyes. The smirk has gone and been replaced with a look that causes my breath to catch and lie heavy in my chest. “That only leaves two choices for us, Story. We fight the fates and walk away. Or—”
“We take a chance and follow their lead.” With my heart still pounding, I realize that our fate is already sealed.
Although I’m filled with doubts about stepping into another fire I might not be able to contain, at least his smile is reassuring. “I’ll pick you up on Thursday. Seven o’clock.”
An electrical surge startles me, taking the lights out, and the coffee shop goes dark. The glow of computer screens dims, but collectively, they shine bright enough for everyone to be seen. I catch my breath and rush to the counter. “It’s okay. You can stay until we close or collect your bill if you’re ready to go.”
Cooper sits at the table, watching as others scramble to gather their things. As I weave through the tables to check on everyone, I start hearing how most don’t have cash. We’re in a world of technology and don’t have a way to pay. Go figure.
I start taking IOUs from the regulars, and the others . . . guess it’s an early present for them as they walk out the door.
Since the coffee is already brewed, I guess the rest of the coffee is on me tonight even though the pot is slowly cooling. I know I’ll have to cover the disparity out of my paycheck, but I’d just be throwing it out anyway. Ross, the owner of Bean There Coffee Cafe, accepts no excuses, no matter how valid. And no electricity in a thunderstorm seems like a valid reason to keep the doors open and the customers happy.
I’m sure he’ll see it differently, though.
Screens start to dim over the course of the next hour, and more customers disappear out the front door when I’m in the back cleaning dishes by flashlight. When I return to the front, only one person remains. Cooper’s concentration on the screen is intense. He doesn’t even hear me come in, though my steps echo in the quiet of the room.
Removing my apron, I place it behind the counter. I’m mentally and physically done for the night, so I sit on the other side of the table from him. He looks up and grins. Removing his earbuds, he asks, “What brings you around, Story?”
“Tossed in the towel. It’s just you and me and the storm outside.”
He looks around in surprise as if he hasn’t noticed the empty room until now. He chuckles. “I fuck up a lot, but I refuse to let my professor be right. This paper is due on her desk by nine o’clock.”
“How much power do you have left?”
“Forty-three minutes, apparently.”
“Can you finish it in that time?”
“No. I have at least two hours of work left to do.” He scrubs his hands over his face and sighs as if exhaustion is about to win the battle. “My apartment lost power. The library was dark, and the bookstore kicked me out when they closed early because of the storm. This coffee shop was a saving grace, but even it can’t save my ass this time.”
I push to my aching feet again and stare at him. The flirting was fun. It feels good to be looked at like I’m as tasty as our homemade cinnamon buns. Even better that I find myself drawn to him for more than just his looks. There’s a vibe that I’m attracted to, one I’d like to explore a little more. Take a chance, Story. “Come on. We can go to my place.”
He sits up, the right corner of his lips following suit. “Your place?”
I swerve my finger through the air. “We’re talking about electricity—”
“I consider it more chemistry that we’re sharing.”
“Ha,” I scoff with a quick roll of my eyes. He’s right, but something is so satisfying about not giving him the upper hand. “Look, I texted a neighbor to check in on her, and it seems my rinky-dink building has managed to survive the outage so far. So, if this paper is as important as you say it is, the offer is out there.” I leave him watching me walk away.
Who cares if it’s dark in here? He gets the drift.
“Either way, I need to lock up, so you can’t stay here,” I add.
The zipper of his backpack, the sound of his laptop closing, the loose change in his pocket, and then the shuffle of his feet are heard as he slips on his wool coat. “Your place it is, but I have to warn you . . .”
Damn. Maybe I shouldn’t have thrown that invitation out so fast. Just because he seems like a nice guy doesn’t mean he’s not a serial killer. I pull the pepper spray from my back pocket and turn back, holding it in the air. “About?”
His gaze volleys between the pepper spray and me before he chooses to stay on my eyes. “Don’t get mixed up with me, okay, Story?” he asks, his decidedly somber tone putting me on edge. With his hands shoved deep inside the pockets of his jeans, I don’t worry about my physical well-being. After having a good time with him, flirting or whatever we’ve been doing, I can’t say the same about my mental state.
Taken aback by the question, I ask, “But you asked me out? Thursday at seven, remember?”
“I shouldn’t have asked you out.”
“Wow,” I say through a sigh. “I don’t think I’ve ever had someone revoke an invitation for a date before.” I give him a thumbs-up and then move to put on my coat. “Thanks for the ego boost. It goes well with being stiffed, not only for the food and drinks tonight but also my tips.” Turning around, I throw my arms out wide. “Basically, I was working for free tonight, so this is just the cherry on top.”
He comes closer, each step tentative as the floor creaks under his feet. “I don’t mean it that way. Sincerely, I find you incredibly enticing and would love to take you out on a date.”
“Enticing?” I slip my arms into the sleeves of my coat, then reach for my hat. I laugh, but I’m not humored by this turnabout. “What are you, a vampire?” Flipping my hair to one side, I expose my neck. “Should I call you Edward?”
This time, he chuckles. It’s real and hardy and worth making a fool of myself to hear. “No.” He snatches my hat, then pulls it onto the top of my head. Still holding the knit by the sides away from my ears, he says, “Just a guy who already knows I’m no good for you.”
He returns to his bag and swings it onto his shoulders. I say, “Lucky for you, I never did have a good sense about men. Let’s go.”
“I was afraid you’d say that.” As if he’s resolved to our fate, he walks to the door behind me.
After setting the alarm, I grab an umbrella from the holder. “This one will fit both of us underneath.”
We step outside, squeezing into the opening under the awning as I turn to lock the shop. “How far do you live from here?”
“Two blocks.” It’s not just pouring rain. The water flows like a river down the street. One step down and my suede ankle boots are ruined forever. I can’t afford another pair. These were a splurge, and they were majorly discounted last summer.
“Quickest route?” Cooper asks. I lean down, deciding I’m willing to sacrifice my tights with the new run in them over my boots, and start slipping them off. “What are you doing?”
When I have the other off, I reply, “I don’t want to ruin my boots.”
“We can’t even see the sidewalk. There could be glass and other debris. No way. Put your shoes on.”
“I love these boots, and I can’t afford to buy another pair.” I start to tuck them into my bag, but he stops me.
“You’re not going barefoot. Not even for two blocks.” A heated beat passes between us, but the tension rolls off his shoulders, and he adds, “I’ll buy you a new pair, any pair of shoes you want, but you need to wear those boots.”
There’s not a threat woven into his tone, but concern had tugged his eyebrows together and dampened the lights in his eyes. I know he’s right, but it’ll be painful to slip my boots back on, purposely setting out to destroy them. “They’ll never be the same.”
“Better them than you.”
We glare at each other for a few seconds before the standoff ends. “Fine.” Using his arm to hold me upright, I slip the boots back on. He may have layers on, but the muscle under it all is rock hard. When my boots are back on, I give him a little attitude. “Happy?”
His eyes dart to my hand that’s still squeezing his bicep. “Are you?”
I lower my hand and step onto the flooding sidewalk. “No, but that doesn’t matter now. Come on.”
Cooper has no problem stepping into the water though his shoes look like leather. Maybe that kind of stuff doesn’t matter to him. Maybe he has enough money not to have to worry about such luxuries. He opens his palm. “Hold on to me.”
The water rushes against the back of my ankles, pushing me forward. One wrong step and I might be flowing along with it. “This is worse than I thought.” I take his hand, and that chemistry he mentioned earlier kicks up my heartbeat along with my adrenaline. We start forward again, walking at a clip that keeps us in control but is also safe.
Cutting down an alley helps alleviate the flooding waters. Deep puddles have formed, but there’s no river running through it. We take a corner, continuing to hold hands as we cross another street that would typically be busy this time of night. The lights of my building ahead draw us in like bees to honey.
“Your block seems to be the only one spared tonight,” he observes.
We’re soaked up to our knees from splashing through the rainwater, but we’ve managed to stay dry up top under the umbrella. “Yeah, looks like the Mexican restaurant is still operating. Hungry?”
“Let’s get inside, and we can place an order. I owe you for letting me come over anyway.”
The three steps leading to the door of my building have managed to stay above the fray of the bad weather. We launch onto the steps and climb up. He tugs the door but whips to face me. “No code or security to get inside?”
“It’s been broken for at least two years.” I pop the umbrella open and closed a few times to shake the excess rain off. “The landlord doesn’t care.”
“I do.”
“Well, then you can fix it because he’s not going to.” I dump the umbrella in the corner of the small entry.
A growl rumbles through his chest, and only the sound of the metal door clicking closed overwhelms it. “Tell me you’re not on the first floor.”
I laugh and start up the stairs. “I’m not on the first floor.”
“Good.”
Our soggy socks and shoes squish underfoot as we trudge upstairs. When we reach the second floor, and I veer down the short hall, he says, “Really? You’re practically the first door someone will find if they enter the building.”
I shrug. “What do you want me to say, Cooper?” Exasperated, I add, “I can’t help if you don’t approve.”
Cooper starts working on removing his shoes in the hall. “It’s not that I don’t approve. My approval doesn’t actually matter. It’s a safety issue.”
I unlock my door and open it, leaning in to set my bag just inside but stay in the hallway. Bending my leg, I reach down and start tugging off my soaked boots. The water did the suede no favors. I think it shrank around my ankle.
“I appreciate your concern, but I’m safe. If you’re worried about your safety,” I start teasing, “no need to worry. I’ll protect you.”
“Funny girl.” He grins and sets his shoes next to mine beside my doormat.
We tug off our socks and bring them inside the apartment with us.
Holding my free hand out, I say, “Welcome home.”
3
Cooper
Welcome home.
Those are the sweetest words spoken to me in a long time.
