It's In His Heart (A Red River Valley Novel) (2 page)

C
hapte
r
T
wo

The baseball bat that nearly took off her head clattered to the floor. Ella’s attacker
—
all five feet eleven inches of him, dressed only in a tight-fitting pair of midnight-blue boxer briefs
—
stumbled backward, clawing at both of his eyes. Disjointed strings of cuss words and something about her being a she-devil streamed toward her. Heart lodged in her throat and pounding like a bass drum, she swung her drenched purse off one shoulder, whipped down the side zipper, and reached for her Taser.

Wait a minute.
She heard her name, and her head popped up. Her adversary with the extremely well-defined abs staggered a few more steps back and fell into the recliner.

Oh, God.
Not thinking of the bling-covered pepper spray still in one hand, she tried to cover her gaping mouth and almost coated her tonsils with the fiery liquid. She forced her hand away. Another onslaught of colorful vocabulary cinched it. She knew that voice.

“Coop? Is that you?”

“Of course it’s me,” he growled back. “Who else would it be?” He pulled one hand away from his face, and the familiar chiseled jawline and the trademark mole next to his left eye made her cringe. His hair had grown longer, but the sandy-blond color still reminded her of caramel.

“Oh, my gosh, Coop. I didn’t know you would be here.”

He tried to open one exposed and very swollen eye, but flinched with a groan and covered it again.

She bolted toward him. “Let me help you.”

This time he managed to pull both reddened eyelids into small slits. “No!” He drew back against the leather chair, and it tilted off balance. Catching himself, he pointed in the general location of her hands. Which one, she wasn’t sure, since they were both outstretched toward him. “Stay away from me with those things.”

She stopped her advance.
Jeez, some people. You try to throw them a lifeline, and they still let themselves drown.

Coop stared at the weapons in her hands, and she glanced down at them, too. “Oh.” Ella let her hands fall to her sides. “Now that I know it’s you, I’m not going to use them on you.” Her weight shifted, eyes flitting to one of Bradley’s amateur wildlife photos that still hung on the wall. “Well, not again, anyway.” She cleared her throat and forced herself to meet his glare.

“Out of the two of us, I’m the only one that’s been pepper sprayed tonight, so I’m not taking any chances.”

She hadn’t seen Coop since Bradley’s funeral, and he was already ticking her off. Typical. She discarded her purse, Taser, and keys—decorative pepper spray and all—onto the coffee table, her feelings of remorse quickly dissipating. “And out of the two of us, I’m the only one that’s been attacked with a baseball bat tonight, so consider yourself lucky.” In no particular hurry, she disappeared into the kitchen and reemerged with a wet cloth. “Here,” she said, kneeling beside him. “Let me put this on your eyes.”

She raised the rag toward his face, and he recoiled. Well aware that Cooper Wells had never liked her and never wanted Bradley to marry her, Ella hesitated. His unspoken disapproval seared her like a hot poker. Always had. Even though she stopped trying to be his friend a long time ago and avoided him like a bad case of the shingles, his distrust still stung.

Who was he to disapprove of
her?
He should’ve been happy for Bradley, glad his best friend was happily married. But no. Coop resented her for taking away his running buddy, even though Bradley hadn’t enjoyed the single life half as much as Coop.

“Do you want the wet rag, or not?” she asked, all compassion now neatly tucked away for another time when it might actually be deserved.

Slowly, he moved his hands away, giving her access. She placed the cloth over his eyes and molded it to his nose and forehead.

“I’ve never been pepper sprayed before.” Sarcasm threaded through his voice. “Any idea how long the burning will last?”

“About thirty minutes or so. Just don’t rub your eyes. It’ll make it worse.”

Silence descended again, and Ella watched the rise and fall of his muscled chest. What the heck, his eyes were covered. Why not sneak a peek? She absorbed his athletic build with an appreciative scan from head to bare feet. He really was a gorgeous man. As much as it pained her to admit it, she could see how he so easily seduced women of all ages, shapes, and cup sizes within seconds. Too bad he felt it necessary to be such a prick to
her.

Speaking of . . .

Her eyes went to the package just below his waist. He really did fill out those boxer briefs nicely. In fact, he could easily be a model for men’s underwear. Move over, David Beckham. Long, powerful legs stretched out beside her, his upper arms bulging while he held the wet rag to his eyes, that caramel mane was tousled just enough to look sexy as—

“See something you like?”

She jumped, and her eyes flew to his. With the rag lifted a fraction he stared back at her.
Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap.
“Uh, no!” C, R, A, P in capital letters. “I just wanted to see if you were hurt, uh, anywhere else.” She bit her lip.

Oh, God.
What would Bradley think? Yes, his dying wish had been for her to move on. Find someone else and marry again. He knew how much she wanted kids. But, ogling Cooper Wells? Her gaze fell to the ground in shame.

He dropped the cloth back onto his eyes. “What are you doing here, Ella? Don’t you have history students to teach or whatever?”

“It’s summer, and I quit my teaching job three years ago.” Her words clipped out at a sharp pace. “To take care of Bradley, remember?”

He swallowed, his mouth thinning into a hard line just below the rag.

Really?
He didn’t remember
that?
Unbelievable, even for a self-absorbed . . .

Coop lifted the cloth again. His puffy red lids caused her conscience to rear its foul head. Guilt threaded through her.

“Didn’t you get my message?” she asked, trying to sound contrite.

Chicken that she was, she had called his home phone before leaving Albuquerque when she knew he’d be at work. After the long and detailed message she’d left—which had been cut off, forcing her to call back twice to finish it—she felt certain he would stay away and give her the peace and quiet she so desperately needed to close this chapter of her life. So, why was he asking
her
for an explanation? As far as she was concerned, he had some explaining to do.

“What message?” His voice dripped with suspicion, and his posture tensed.

Well. Obviously, he
hadn’t
gotten her message that could easily qualify as a dissertation for a doctorate degree. A knot started to form just below her breastbone.

A hefty bark sounded from the porch.

“Oh, God. I forgot Winston.” Ella ran for the front door, which still stood ajar.

Leading her muddy canine inside, she gave the knotty pine door a shove, and it thudded shut. She frowned at the dirty paw tracks left in Winston’s wake, but couldn’t deal with that mess right now. Not when she had a much bigger problem staring right at her, by the name of Cooper Wells.

“You remember Winston, right?” Ella asked. Coop’s brow furrowed. “No? Oh, I keep forgetting you were too busy to visit Bradley much.” A muscle in his jaw flexed.
So there, Mr. Hotshot. Your power shift failed.
“I got Winston for Bradley when he was sick. He always wanted an English bulldog. I tied Winston up outside to wash the mud off, but I guess it doesn’t matter.”

Ella looked around the messy cabin. Okay, cleanliness obviously wasn’t one of Coop’s virtues, not that she thought he had any virtues to begin with. “Looks like the floor hasn’t been cleaned in . . . well, ever.”

Winston growled and yanked out of her grasp. “Hey!” Ella yelled, but Winston bounded toward a trembling mound of fur in the corner of the room.

A muffled groan sounded from Coop’s direction. “That would be my dog, Atlas.”

“Atlas.” Ella smiled, remembering the first time she’d met Bradley.
After hiking the La Luz trail her first year in Albuquerque, she’d limped
into his office as a new patient. Pointing to her X-rays, he’d explained the misalignment of her s
pine, starting with the top vertebra—the atlas. “Only a chiropractor
would come up with a name like that.” She shrugged thoughtfully. “Or an English Lit major.”

Several creases appeared over Coop’s brows.

“Haven’t you read Ayn Rand?” His blank stare answered her question. “Oh, forget it.” Reading apparently ranked right up there with cleanliness on Coop’s list of priorities. Figured.

The cowering pooch rolled onto its back, whimpering. Winston pounced and licked the other dog’s snout while humping away.

Coop groaned again. “I didn’t think this night could get any worse.”

“Winston’s neutered,” Ella reassured him.

“Wouldn’t matter if he wasn’t,” Coop muttered. “Atlas is a
he
.”

She couldn’t help it. A rumble of laughter started somewhere deep in her gut and echoed through the cabin.

Coop glared at her. His head fell back on the headrest, and he covered his eyes again. “What happened to you, anyway? You look like hell.”

“Thanks. You really know how to flatter a girl.” She looked down at her mud-streaked legs and shoeless foot. When she wiggled her toes, mud squished out. Yeah, she looked god-awful. “The road coming in was so muddy the Beamer slid into a ditch and got stuck. I had to walk the rest of the way here.”

“You drove Bradley’s BMW up here in this weather?” An accusation hung in the air.

She bristled. “I didn’t know it was going to rain.” She crossed both arms across her chest. “Besides, I got rid of our truck. I can’t relocate to a different state driving both.”

“So if you’re moving to another state, what are you doing in Red River? And couldn’t you have called to tell me you were coming?”

“And you could check your messages once every decade or so.”

There went that muscle in his jaw again.

A wheezing snore emerged from the corner. Winston and Atlas cuddled. Winston was fast asleep and both looked content. Well, they’d just seen more action in two minutes than she’d seen in the past two years. Too bad she didn’t smoke. If she did, she’d offer them a cigarette.

“I’ll pull your car out of the ditch tomorrow, so you can be on your way.”

Tomorrow?
Three and a half years had passed since Bradley’s terminal cancer diagnosis. She’d come here to make peace with losing him before starting over somewhere else. She planned to give Coop her share of the cabin when she left, but she sure wasn’t going to let him push her out before she was ready.

She wouldn’t be asking for much, just a little time in this secluded mountain retreat that had meant so much to Bradley. Before she turned the property deed over to Coop, she had to give her heart a chance to mend. It was her only hope of finding love again, of building a new life—a life that she hoped would include children and a man just like Bradley.

Coop’s presumptuous statement needled her like a burr under a horse’s saddle. She narrowed her eyes. If he couldn’t give her a little space, then maybe she’d keep her share of the cabin. After all, he hadn’t offered to buy her out yet. Even if he did, she didn’t have to sell.

One foot tapped against the wood floor. “What makes you think I’ll be leaving tomorrow?”

“I’m here, for starters,” he sputtered.

She shrugged. “You’ll have to go back to Albuquerque in a few days, right? You’ve got patients to see.”

He glowered at her. “How long are you planning to stay, then? A week, two maybe?”

Time to dig in and stand her ground. Ella planted a hand firmly on one hip and leveled a solid stare at him. “Try the whole summer.”

She looked good. Too good. Even with her hair plastered around that heart-shaped face and black sludge oozing from the perfectly painted toes of one foot,
Cinder-Ella
, as he had secretly dubbed her when she and Bradley first started dating, looked incredible.