It's In His Heart (A Red River Valley Novel) (10 page)

C
hapte
r
T
en

Something metallic thumped against Ella’s head. She could’ve sworn the throb came from some sort of blunt instrument. She patted her hair with one hand. No, no bludgeoning on the outside. It was last night’s two drinks that caused the dull ache that pulsed against the inside of her head.

She cracked one eye, and the morning sunshine streaming through the slats of her window blinds stabbed at her brain. Flinging an arm over her face, she groaned.

Oh, God. No.
Memories of her putting Coop’s hand to her breast caused another dull pain to ebb and flow through her head.
Way to go, Dennings.
What had she been thinking? Well, that was just it. She
hadn’t
been thinking at all.

Coffee.
That’s what she needed. She pulled herself up to a sitting position and ran her tongue over fuzzy teeth.
Yuck.
The dresser mirror was directly across the room, and she tried to bring her reflection into focus. A messy auburn mop and eyelids slightly stained from last night’s makeup made her cringe.

She couldn’t let Coop see her like this. Not after last night. But the bathroom was just too damn far away right now. She needed java. Then she could shower and get dressed. Too bad a shower couldn’t wash away the memory of her behavior, too.

The clanging of pots and pans had her dropping her hurting head into both hands.
Great.
Coop was in the kitchen. Why couldn’t he find something to do outside the cabin, like most every other day since she arrived in Red River? Throwing back the covers, she got out of bed. She pulled on a pair of yoga pants and an old T-shirt, then went to the mirror to smooth her hair.

She looked at the logo on her T-shirt.
Chiropractors Do It Properly Aligned.
It was Bradley’s favorite. After he passed, Ella often slept in his T-shirts. At first, they smelled of his cologne, wrapping her in his presence. One by one, all those shirts had been laundered, until two years later they no longer held the familiar scent of security and contentment.

Shame washed over her. Last night, when Coop’s hands were on her, Bradley hadn’t even entered her mind until Coop had the sense to step away. She fanned her hand and fiddled with her wedding ring.

She rubbed her eyes. Her headache wasn’t going away on its own. She needed pain relievers and caffeine. She’d just have to suck it up and face the music that waited for her in the kitchen.

Breathing deep, Ella took another look in the mirror.

Oh, my.

What sounded like the pantry door slammed in the kitchen, and she jumped.
Crap.
She couldn’t stay holed up in her room forever. Squaring her shoulders, she made for the door and tried to rub the last remnants of makeup from her eyes.

The first thing Coop noticed was Bradley’s old T-shirt that hung loosely around Ella’s small frame. Bradley bought it when they went to a chiropractic convention together just before he was diagnosed. Coop looked away and poured her a cup of coffee. From the look of her, she needed it. She sure didn’t look like Cinderella out of a fairy tale this morning. She looked like hell.

“Here.” He handed her the piping hot mug.

“Thanks,” Ella mumbled, taking the mug like a reluctant, mistrusting child. She sipped at it and made a face.

“I thought you liked coffee.”

“This isn’t coffee. It’s dark brown water.”

“You can always do without.”

She eased onto a barstool. “This will do for now. Thanks.”

He nodded and turned back to the stove. “I’m making you an omelet.”

Her grimace deepened. “I usually eat Cap’n Crunch.”

“Yeah, I noticed the ten boxes of cereal in the pantry.” He cut his eyes at her.

“You don’t like Cap’n Crunch? That’s un-American.” She tried to
tsk
but flinched, one palm covering her forehead.

“I love Cap’n Crunch, I just don’t eat it.”

“And you call me boring.”

He sucked in an exasperated breath. “It’s pure sugar. It’ll make you feel better if you eat a lot of protein today.” He flipped the frothy mixture. “And you need to drink lots of water. That’ll help more than coffee.”

“Aspirin.” Ella rubbed her temple. “Aspirin will help, too.”

Coop retrieved a bottle from the pantry, popped the lid, and shook two tablets onto the counter in front of her. A light blush tinged her cheeks.

“You know you really shouldn’t drink. It doesn’t seem to agree with you.” He couldn’t help but rub it in. After spending a sleepless night thinking of her softness, of how her breaths quickened under his touch, how could he not be a little sarcastic?

“Good tip.” She downed the aspirin with a swallow of coffee.

He turned back to the pan and dished up a perfect gourmet omelet. He set the plate down in front of her and started on his own.

“Thanks,” she managed.

“For what?”

“For the aspirin. And for this.” Ella waved the fork at her plate and looked at him as though she were seeing him for the first time. “You’re good at taking care of people.” A little makeup still smudged on her eyelids, they fluttered and her reddened eyes wandered over his face, then down his chest, which caused it to tighten. She cleared her throat and looked down at the omelet. “It really does smell good. I can make good coffee, but I’ve never been much of a cook.”

Really?
Coop would’ve never guessed by the all the cereal boxes and frozen dinners.

“I like to clean.”

No kidding.

She forked a chunk of egg into her mouth and chewed. Swallowing, she said, “How about I clean the cabin and you cook.”

“There’s nothing wrong with this place. It’s clean enough.” Coop flipped the cheesy egg mixture to the other side and steam sizzled from the pan.

She blinked at him. “It’s a pigsty. Every time I straighten it up, you mess it up again.”

He glanced over his shoulder into the den. It did kind of look like a hurricane had gone through the place, but he was a bachelor. Men weren’t supposed to be all clean and prissy.

“Bradley said he ate dinner with you and Butch almost every night because his parents were gone to prayer meetings.”

A smile spread across Coop’s face. He dished up his omelet. “I learned to cook after my mom left. Dad worked all day, so I made dinner for us just about every night.”

“Bradley said he would’ve gone hungry if not for you cooking for him.”

Coop shrugged and sat down next to Ella. “He was a resourceful guy. He would’ve figured out how to survive even if I hadn’t been around.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he wished he could reach out and take them back. Ella sucked in an audible breath. Staring at his plate, he said, “I’m sorry. That came out wrong.”

Half an omelet still on her plate, Ella snatched it up and walked to the sink. Setting it in the sink, she said, “Thanks for breakfast. I’ll clean this up later.” Then she went back to her room and closed the door.

Hell.
Would he ever find a way to coexist with her? They’d been doing an awful war dance around each other for years now, like two opponents in a fencing match. Parry and thrust, parry and thrust. He’d be glad when the summer was over and she went on her way to . . .
anywhere else.

C
hapte
r
E
leven

After sleeping off the headache, Ella showered and grabbed her laptop. The cabin was empty, and Coop was nowhere in sight. Winston whined to go out, so Ella cracked the door, giving him free rein to go in and out as he pleased.

She positioned herself at the table so she could look out the window, and fired up her Mac. With Coop’s truck gone, she had a peaceful and expansive view of the stream. Her fingers went to work.

The way Coop had held her in his arms on the dance floor, molding her body against his, his breaths against her ear sending shivers down her spine, had ignited her body into flames she had no way of putting out. Then when she’d challenged him, put his hand on her breast, and he’d tugged and massaged both into aching peaks . . .

Hells bells, she was getting worked up thinking about it. The entire night had caused a whole new set of fantasies to play through her mind. Fantasies that would go unsatisfied. Again.

Frustrated, she banged away at the keyboard, letting those fantasies drench the pages on her laptop, the same way she’d done when Bradley was ill.

Hours later, Ella finally typed “the end” to book three and sent the manuscript zinging through cyberspace to her editor, Cyn. After clicking on the magical Send button, Ella looked up from the keyboard and stretched. The sun had started its afternoon descent, casting a dusky haze across the backyard and leaving the cabin in shadows. She got up and cleaned the dishes from the morning’s breakfast. Just as she stacked the last plate in the dish rack, the landline rang.

“Hello, stranger!” a familiar voice hollered into her ear.

“Marilyn!” Ella yelled back.

An English teacher at Bella Vista High, Marilyn had sauntered into Ella’s history classroom on the first day of school to say hi. Two days later when Marilyn, all five feet one inch and a hundred and ten pounds of her, broke up a fight between two teenaged linebackers without so much as smudging her hot-pink lip gloss, she’d won Ella’s respect forever.

“How the heck are you?” Marilyn asked.

“I’m good,” Ella said, and almost broke into tears. She missed Marilyn and the other ladies in the Circle of Trust.

“Well, I was out with the girls for our monthly lunch and couldn’t wait another day to hear how things are going up there. So, how’s mountain life? Are you lonely yet out in the sticks?”

Tears stung Ella’s already-puffy red eyes. “I miss you guys.” Her voice shook a little. “How’s Bella Vista?”

“Still brimming with studious students eager to learn,” Marilyn said, her voice dripping with sweet sarcasm. “I’m taking over the yearbook next year. Mrs. Riggs retired.” Her voice dropped to a whisper as though someone might overhear. “Thank the Almighty. Now if I can just get the teenage boys on staff to take pictures of something other than girls in short shorts, I’ll be in business.”

Ella laughed. “How are
your
kids?”

“Rowdy as ever. When they get too far out of hand, I call Becca and Carissa. They come over and untie me before the boys burn the house down.”

They laughed. Becca and Carissa were in the Circle of Trust, and were definitely capable of lassoing Marilyn’s rambunctious adolescent boys. They could also be counted on to be there for a young grieving widow.

“So how’s life in Red River?” Marilyn asked.

“I’m settled in.” That’s all Ella could think to say, with visions of Cooper Wells licking his lips while she all but undressed for him.

She’d fully expected him to push her away. His warm hands had closed over her aching flesh instead, his smoky gaze locking with hers, and she’d wanted to follow through for a moment. Then she’d panicked, and thank the angels in heaven, Coop had come to his senses for the both of them.

At least her stupidity had given her the inspiration to finish
Rio Grande Romp
. She’d fired off the last few chapters while the creative juices were still flowing after last night’s near-romp.

There was a brief silence before Marilyn finally spoke up. “Okay, what’s eating at you?”

“Huh?” Ella stammered. “I . . . I . . . nothing!”

“Yeah, sure. You’re talking to
me
, so spit it out.”

“No, really, it’s just that, uh, uh—”

“Don’t make me drive up there,” Marilyn threatened, and Ella knew her closest friend in the world would do just that if Ella didn’t give her something more substantial. Anything.

Ella sighed. “I’m not exactly alone, that’s all.”

“Who’s there with you? Please tell me it’s not your co-owner, Cooper Wells.” Marilyn sounded suspicious. “Because you said you took care of reserving the cabin for yourself for the entire summer.”

“I thought I did. Apparently, Coop’s not big on checking messages.”

“El, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Ella closed her eyes, braced for what was coming.

“I just heard some interesting gossip about Cooper and why he left Albuquerque and moved to Red River.”

Ella tried to sound calm. “Okay, I know what you’re going to say.”

“Oh, phew,” Marilyn said. “So, when’s he leaving?”

Ella bit her lip.

“Ella?” Marilyn prodded. “He
is
leaving, isn’t he? Because you can’t stay with someone who’s been accused of a crime.”

“Oh, come on!” Ella grew defensive. Coop’s irresponsible lifestyle had gotten him into this mess, and it certainly wasn’t her place to jump to his defense. But much to her chagrin, she couldn’t stand hearing anyone give merit to the accusations that’d been leveled against him. They just weren’t true. This morning, she’d seen his caring, compassionate side when he took care of her like he’d always done his patients. Bradley told her Coop’s playboy lifestyle was just an act. A self-defense mechanism against getting hurt again after his mother walked out on him and his dad. Ella never believed it until this morning. “You know as well as I do that Coop isn’t guilty.”

“Maybe not, but it’s still not a good idea to live under the same roof with him. You could buy out his share of the cabin. Rumor has it he sold his swanky Nob Hill condo to help pay his legal fees. It’ll give him some extra money and you’ll be alone.”

“You have no idea what Red River and this cabin mean to Coop. Selling this place is the last thing he’d ever do.” She blew out a sigh. “Coop is harmless. I’m sure of it, and frankly, I’m a little offended that you don’t trust my judgment.”

The other end of the line went silent, and Ella got a little scared. Marilyn was probably already concocting a plan to recruit the other Circle of
Trust members and drive up to Red River to toss Coop out on his ear that very night.

“Besides, he’s never here,” Ella added, to pacify the well-dressed lynch mob leader on the other end of the line. Marilyn, Carissa, and Becca made a pretty intimidating mob, now that she thought about it. Their strategy and plan of attack every Black Friday was downright terrifying.

“Doesn’t his dad live up there?” Marilyn asked. “Can’t Coop stay with him while you’re there?”

“Butch’s cabin only has two bedrooms, and Coop’s a grown man. He’s not going to sleep on the couch or share a room with his teenaged brother for months.”

“Maybe I should drive up there,” Marilyn said, more to herself than to Ella.

“You’re acting like I’m living with him in the carnal sense, for goodness’ sakes. I don’t need a mother hen to rescue me. It’s sweet of you, it really is, but I’m fine. Coop is fine. We hardly see each other, and he has as much right to be here as I do. He’s half owner of this place, and he was technically here first.”

Marilyn hesitated.

“Come on, it’s fine. I promise the minute it stops being fine I’ll pack up and put Red River in my rearview mirror. Fair enough?”

A reluctant sigh came through the phone. “All right,” said Marilyn. “But I swear, if I hear any more gossip about him or if I hear any tension in your voice when I call you—eeeevery siiiingle daaaay—” she drew those three words out for melodramatic effect, “I’m coming up there. And I just might be packin’ heat.”

Right. Marilyn hated guns, but she wouldn’t hesitate to bring the US Marines, the ACLU, and a few radical feminist groups if she thought it would help get her way. Ella smiled at the phone. “Deal.” She laughed. “I really do miss you.”

Ella hung up the phone and whistled for Winston since Atlas must have been with Coop. “Let’s go for a walk, boy.” The beautiful day had turned into an even more beautiful evening. A little fresh air and sunshine might loosen the aching muscles in her back that had tightened after sitting in front of the computer all afternoon.

By the time Winston waddled down the steps and over to the stream, Coop’s truck crunched down the gravel-and-dirt drive and pulled to a stop next to her car. Atlas barked and pawed at the glass. As soon as Coop opened the door, Atlas trampled over him to jump from the truck and bound toward Winston. Coop walked over to them, grumbling under his breath at the dog. Then Atlas and Winston each latched on to one of Coop’s legs and humped.

“Hey!” Coop scolded both dogs.

“Oh, my God.” Ella’s hands went to her eyes, and she covered them. “Some things just can’t be unseen.”

“A little help here,” Coop said, kind of desperate. Kind of cute.

Ella peeked through her fanned fingers and laughed so hard a tear slid down her cheek.

“Yeah, thanks.” Coop shook Atlas loose and then tried to dislodge Winston. “Seriously, Dennings, can you get your dog off me?”

Ella shrugged. “He does seem to prefer men.”

Coop growled.

“Okay, okay.” She walked over and grabbed Winston’s collar, hauling him off her grumpy cabinmate. Her sexy, grumpy cabin-mate. “Bad boy, Winston,” she admonished the dog. “Winston and I were just going for a walk.” She gave Winston a scratch under the chin. “Um, you could come.” She stood and looked at Coop. Creases formed between his eyes. “Or not.” Bad idea. Being friendly to Coop just never seemed to work. “Maybe just Atlas could—”

“Okay.”

“Um. Okay then.” She nodded upstream. “This way?”

He fell in beside her, his hands shoved in his jeans pockets. The soothing sound of the stream lapping over rocks wound around them, and they walked along in silence. A gentle breeze rustled the cottonwoods, and the piney scent of summer settled over the landscape with the sun sinking to the west.

Winston lagged behind with his tongue wagging almost to the ground. Atlas scampered ahead for a few moments then doubled back to rejoin his buddy.

“Winston,” Coop said just that one word.

Ella gave him a curious look.

“He’s an English bulldog. You’re a history teacher. I didn’t make the connection at first, but I get it now.”

Ella chuckled. “He was Bradley’s dog, but Bradley wanted me to name him. It was either Winston or Churchill. Bradley liked the name Winston better.”

She waited for the smart-aleck remark about her being an anal-retentive, nerdy history teacher.

“Well I suppose it was better than naming him Adolf,” Coop teased.

And there it was.
But she had to laugh, because amusement danced in his eyes instead of grouchiness. Those moments were rare with Coop, especially when he spoke to her. She liked it. A little too much, actually.

Coop stopped and turned to look at their dogs. Winston had thrown himself against a fallen log and refused to get up. Atlas sat at his side like a loyal companion.

“Uh, Ella, I don’t think he can make it any farther. Should I back my truck up and load him in the bed?”

She laughed. “Let him stay here. We can walk Atlas a little farther. Maybe Winston will have caught his breath by the time we get back.”

They ambled along at a slow pace, and the thrum Ella had been trying to ignore every time she and Coop were within fifty feet of each other revved into a steady cadence. It started in her belly and spread to her fingers and toes. Turned to a pulse and an ache by the time it reached the spot between her thighs. Progressed into a pull in her breasts and lodged in her chest where it made her yearn for something more with Coop. Something that was unimaginable and stupid because . . . well, this was
Coop
.