Cooper (The Family Simon Book 6)

C
opyright
© 2016 by Juliana Stone

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

C
ooper Simon had been
at his place in Maine for two weeks, and nothing was going right. Less than five days in, he’d lost power—a sudden nor’easter the culprit—and he’d been forced to stay in Fisherman’s Landing with his brother Maverick. He loved his brother, but Cooper wasn’t in the mood to be surrounded by
happy
. Unfortunately for him, living with Maverick and his wife, Charlie, was like being dunked in a vat of happy. A vat the size of New England.

He was gone as soon as he got word his hydro had been restored.

He’d only been home a few days when a sudden windstorm took his Godzilla weather vane along with most of his frost fence. The frost fence he couldn’t care less about—it could be replaced—the one-of-a-kind weather vane, however, was another story. Made of copper and brass, it was probably the ugliest weather vane in the entire state of Maine, but man, he loved it. So much so, he’d spent the last three hours walking his property as well as the neighboring ones looking for the damn thing. He’d trudged up and down the coast, slipping over icy rock and mushy snow, and had nothing to show for his effort. Hell, he’d even take a piece of fencing to call it a win, but none could be found.

Glaring up at the gathering clouds and then back at the dark, angry Atlantic Ocean, Cooper yanked on his hood and started toward home. It was already well into the afternoon, and he’d gotten no work done. If he got back sooner than later, he might be able to fix that.

Or not.

His mood now as black as the water behind him, Cooper hunched his shoulders against the wind and decided not to think about work. There was no point, really. Either he was gonna get it done, or he’d continue to screw the pooch.

By the time he reached the old farmhouse he’d renovated a few years back, a headache was beginning to press into the side of his head. He decided a couple of pain pills and a swig of whiskey would do the trick, and was planning on doing just that when he spied a compact red car parked not far from his door. Scowling, he shook his head. It was probably Charlie.

“Not today,” he muttered, heading to the front door. For whatever reason, Charlotte had decided he needed taking care of, and it was about time he set her straight. Cooper Simon didn’t need anyone taking care of him—especially not his brother’s wife. The whole happy thing annoyed the hell out of him.

He took the stairs two at a time and didn’t bother to shake the slush, salt, and dirt from his boots as he strode into his house. Cooper strode across the foyer but pulled up short when his cell phone rang. He patted the front pockets of his jeans and then realized the damn thing was on the hall table. He scooped it up and headed for the kitchen.

“Where have you been?”

“Where are
you
?” he shot back, glancing around the place. What was that smell? Pine? Cooper didn’t stop walking until he reached the fridge and, too lazy to head back to the front room where he kept his whiskey, reached inside and grabbed a Bud. Wasn’t like there was much choice, considering the only things in there were beer and yogurt.

“I’m home, with your brother.”

Cooper rummaged through the cupboard for the pain pills, tossed a few into his mouth, and then took a long swig from the bottle as he leaned his hip against the counter. Shrugging out of his jacket, he threw the heavy coat onto the kitchen table. Frowning, he took another swig and glanced outside. So whose car was out front?

“
Where
are you?” Charlie asked again.

“I’m home,” Cooper replied, rubbing his chin absently.

“Oh.”

“Did you expect me to be somewhere else?”

“Well, no. But I’ve been calling for hours and you didn’t pick up. Morgan said the place was empty.”

“Morgan?” He straightened and peered into the family room.

“Thank goodness I gave her my spare set of keys.”

“Keys?” A frown firmly in place, Cooper headed back to the front of the house. “Why the hell would you give my keys to some stranger?”

“Cooper. You need someone out there, if only to clean the darn toilet and make sure there’s more food in the fridge than beer and yogurt.”

“I happen to like beer and yogurt.” Scowling, he let out a long sigh. He’d been having this conversation with Charlie ever since he’d arrived. “I told you I don’t need anyone poking around my business.”

“Who said anything about poking around?” Something crashed in his ear. “Hold on, Coop.” A pause. “Connor. Please put that dog in its crate, or I won’t be held responsible for what I will do to it.”

“You still training that puppy?” Cooper grinned for the first time. A Bernese Mountain Dog, the thing was growing crazily by the day.

“Puppy? It’s a freaking giant. I can’t believe Rick came home with it.”

“Kind of like I can’t believe you gave my keys to a perfect stranger.”

“Cooper, she’s not…she…” Charlie swore under her breath, and Cooper paused near the front door.

“Morgan’s not a stranger, and besides, you need someone out there. It’s not healthy to be on your own for days on end, eating crap food and living in filth.”

Okay. That was going a little too far. So he didn’t clean his damn toilet every day. At least he lifted the lid. That was saying something.

“You’ll like her. I promise.”

No way was this happening.

“Charlie, no.”

“Morgan can help out with whatever you need. Laundry. Errands.”

“No.” His voice was firm.

“You said you were thinking of hiring someone to go through all the stuff in the attic and organize it.”

“No.”

“She’d be real good at that. Organizing and cleaning and…well, whatever stuff you need done.”

“No.” Charlotte Simon had to be the stubbornest woman he’d ever met.

“Why not?” He heard the frustration in her voice. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. I’ve already hired her, so…”

Cooper swore a blue streak. “What do you mean you hired her?” All he wanted was peace and quiet. The ability to walk around his house in his boxers—hell, naked if he felt like it—and scratch his ass without anyone seeing him.

He needed to work, and no way could he get anything done with some woman underfoot. And he sure as hell didn’t need some sweet little old lady who’d want nothing more than to set him up with a granddaughter or daughter or cousin or…

“Coop?”

“You hired her, you can fire her.”

Silence greeted his words. “I can’t. I won’t. Tell me that you don’t need someone to get your groceries and organize your meals. Clean the dust bunnies and your clothes and maybe organize that huge attic? I thought you wanted your work space up there? Thought you said you didn’t like working in the shop?”

Damn but his head hurt. With a curse, he rubbed his temples.

“And she’s not a stranger, Cooper. You met her last week at the church social.”

Great. The social. It wasn’t his usual gig, and the only reason he’d gone was because the night before the social, he’d lost at poker and Maverick insisted if he had to go, then Cooper did as well.

Charlie was still jabbering in his ear. “Campbell’s Home Services is a well-established business and—”

“Campbell?” Well, that rang a bell.

Blonde hair, green eyes, a nice rack, and legs that went on for miles is what he remembered. Suddenly interested, Cooper perked up.

“Do you remember?”

Hell yeah, he remembered. The woman ran her mouth a lot, going on about things he had no interest in, but her lips were soft and full, and he could think of more than a few things that could shut up that luscious mouth. Newly separated, she’d made it more than clear she was available, and he’d filed her away as a possible diversion.

What the hell was her name? “Sara?”

“Sara was there, but no, I’m talking about her sister, Morgan Campbell.”

He frowned. “She a blonde?”

“No. Brunette.” Charlie yelled at her young brother Connor once more and then sighed into the phone. “She was there, Cooper. Pretty sure you met her.”

He thought back to the Saturday before. “Wait a minute. Are you talking about the middle-aged woman who stood in the corner all night? The one in the green sweater?” The only reason he remembered her was because her cardigan was the ugliest puke green he’d ever seen. It was big, bulky, and covered her from neck to mid-thigh.

“She’s not middle-aged. She’s twenty-seven.”

“Well, she’s the oldest-looking twenty-seven-year-old I’ve ever seen.”

“Really, Cooper?” Charlie wasn’t impressed.

He swore and rubbed at the hair on his chin. He knew he sounded like an asshole but couldn’t seem to help himself. His head ached, he was frustrated beyond belief, and he sure as hell didn’t have time to argue.

“Look, Charlie. I don’t care if she’s twenty-seven or seventy-two. Hell, she could look like Angelina Jolie and it wouldn’t matter. I don’t want her here. End of story.”

“Coop—”

“I’m not doing this with you, Charlie.”

His sister-in-law said something not fit for human ears.

“Your vocabulary is interesting. The way you mix up nouns and verbs into something so naughty I just might have to use it myself.” He was trying to lighten things a bit, but with a sigh, Cooper leaned against the door and squeezed his eyes shut. It wasn’t working. Charlie wasn’t so easily swayed.

“It’s her father’s business and she’s…well, she’s helping out at the moment. They need the work.”

“She needs the work? What the hell do you think I am? Some kind of charity?”

A noise caught his attention, and Cooper’s eyes flew open. He whipped up his head in time to see two feet disappear back upstairs. Well, shit.

“I gotta go, Charlie.”

“Cooper—”

Tight-lipped, he tossed his cell back onto the table, cutting off his sister-in-law, and without pausing took the stairs two at a time. No sense putting things off. He would let this Morgan know she could finish up whatever it was Charlie had hired her to do for the day. He would pay her and then get on with things.

Cooper strode across the landing and peeked into the first bedroom, but it was empty. He spied a plastic purple caddy filled with cleaning products and other stuff near the bathroom and took exactly two steps in that direction before a woman appeared in the doorway. She met his gaze for all of two seconds and then proceeded to toss a few more cleaning supplies into the caddy before disappearing back into the bathroom.

Huh. Seems he’d been dismissed.

She reappeared with a mop and bucket and paused. The lighting up here was dim, especially at this time of day, but it was enough for him to see that the woman was angry. Or annoyed. Or something. Her lips were pursed tightly, and she pushed back a strand of dark hair that fell over her eyebrows.

“Do you always walk around the house in dirty boots?” She glared at him as if he’d just committed some sort of crime.

He glanced down at his feet and then slowly met her gaze again. He’d just tracked a boatload of crap all over his newly refurbished hardwood floors, so he wasn’t exactly winning points, but then, he didn’t exactly care.

“Not generally, no,” he replied slowly.

She was on the tall side for a female—maybe five foot ten—and every inch of her was covered. Loose track pants and a long-sleeved sweatshirt gave no indication of her shape. Hell, she could have been hiding an entire litter of kittens under there for all he knew. She was pale, as if she didn’t get out much, and her hair was scraped back, secured into a low ponytail. She had high cheekbones, a generous mouth, but from where he stood, he couldn’t tell what color her eyes were.

He squinted a bit. There was something on the side of her neck…a tattoo maybe?

Small dots of red appeared on her face, and Cooper realized that he was staring at her, which was rude. His eyes fell away, and that was when things got awkward.

She cleared her throat, and he found himself watching her once more as she bent down to retrieve the caddy.

“Take your boots off, and I’ll clean up after you,” she said, voice curt and to the point. Her eyebrows rose as she met his gaze once more. The anger or whatever it was he’d seen before was gone. There was just…nothing. It was as if she’d pulled down the blinds and disappeared.

Cooper wasn’t exactly used to women reacting to him this way, and it piqued his interest.

Still unsure, Cooper kicked off his boots and held them in his hands as she walked past with her caddy and headed downstairs. She set it near the front door and then climbed the stairs once more—her steps were slow and even, but something about the way she moved was odd. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“Here, let me.” He could clean up his own damn mess.

She ignored him and didn’t utter a word as she passed by. She grabbed the mop, cleaning the floor where he’d tracked dirt, and then each of the stairs. He followed her back down and felt like a complete ass as she set about cleaning the foyer, and then back into the kitchen, where he’d traipsed all over the place like a spoiled, uncaring child.

“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” he said, but again, she remained silent.

Once she was done, she made her way back to the front door, where she scooped a large gray parka from the wall hook and her boots from the mat. Only then did she speak, though she kept her eyelids lowered, focused at shoulder level.

“You don’t have to worry about paying me, Mr. Simon. Charlie already took care of that. I’ll make sure to reimburse her for the rest of the services she contracted us for. Two weeks’ worth of cleaning and the attic.”

“I… You don’t have to…” Cooper’s words died in his throat. Her eyes were the most unusual shade of green he’d ever seen. So pale they were almost colorless. Now that he got a good look at her, she was about as far away from middle age as he was from China.

“I don’t need your charity, so yes I do.”

Of course she’d heard everything he’d said to Charlie earlier. There was no anger in her words, but something about her tone bothered Cooper. Acceptance.

She grabbed her cleaning things, and he moved quickly to open the door for her.

“Thank you.” Polite and crisp, she didn’t look back. Stepping out onto the porch, she paused, looking straight ahead. “You might want to get a new plug for the tank on your toilet. The one upstairs. It’s running.” She shuffled her feet. “And…”