Cooper (The Family Simon Book 6) Page 12

  A warm hand touched hers. A voice broke through the haze that blanketed Morgan.

  “Hey, you okay?”

  She blinked away tears, and Nathan faded from view. Cooper was silent, his gaze intense as they searched her face. Was she okay? She was so far from okay, right now in this moment, she felt as if she’d never find her way back. Would she admit that? Could she admit that?

  “No,” she answered, voice rough. “I’m so not okay.”

  Apparently, she could.

  Cooper held her gaze a heartbeat longer and then squeezed her hand. “Let’s go.”

  “But…” She glanced down at their half-eaten meal and the second bottle of wine that had just been delivered.

  “No,” he said, getting to his feet. “Let’s you and me get out of here.”

  Her eyes shot back up to his, and everything inside her stilled. He knew. He knew exactly who the couple was.

  Morgan slipped her hand into Cooper’s, hesitating because Nathan and Christy blocked her way to freedom. Cooper bent low, his warm breath feathering across her neck.

  “Don’t worry about them. I’ve got this.” He tucked her into his side and they turned to face the two people who had hurt her more than she’d thought possible. Never in a million years did Morgan think she’d have the balls to face them in public, and yet with Cooper at her side, she felt stronger. More in control than she’d felt in a long, long time.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  His hand was warm at her back, they stepped forward.

  17

  Cooper didn’t need anyone to tell him who the couple was, because Morgan’s expression told him everything he needed to know. She was still trembling when she took his arm, and he smiled at her reassuringly, hoping he could somehow calm her.

  There was only one exit from the dining area, and as they slowly threaded their way through several tables, he was aware most of the patrons in the room were staring. Some from beneath lidded eyes, others not so shyly. Humans were, for the most part, intuitive creatures—he’d made a career out of studying them—and right now, everyone seemed to be aware that some kind of drama was unfolding.

  He kept his grip firm on Morgan as he studied the couple. From his own experience, he knew that not every situation was cut-and-dried…that the gray area could overtake black and white, and something that seemed simple was, at best, complicated in the extreme.

  And yet, the wave of protectiveness that rolled through him didn’t give a crap about any of that. All he knew was that this woman at his side had been hurt, and he’d do what he could to minimize any further damage.

  He didn’t need to know the details of what happened, because it didn’t matter. He simply didn’t care. He was Team Morgan, and he had her back.

  They stopped a few feet from the exit, mostly because there was nowhere for them to go, and Cooper wasn’t sure if Morgan would have sailed past them if she could. By this time, he was pretty much supporting her, and he gave her a reassuring squeeze. The hostess was chatting with the woman, a tall, attractive blonde who sported an athletic build, wide-set eyes, and an engaging smile. She hadn’t spotted Morgan yet, but the man certainly had.

  He too was tall—Cooper had maybe an inch or two on the guy—and looked like he hit the gym hard. His dark hair was cut short, almost military in look, and he was dressed casually in jeans and leather.

  The guy looked startled, surprised, and, if Cooper was reading it correctly, more than a little bit uncomfortable. He opened his mouth to say something but then snapped it shut, shuffling his feet.

  Coward.

  Gently, Morgan cleared her throat and spoke. “Hello, Nathan.”

  At the sound of her voice, the woman turned, and the hostess watched the exchange, not bothering to hide her interest.

  “Oh my God, Morgan. I…” Her voice trailed off and she looked uncomfortable. “I’ve been meaning to call, but…”

  Nathan found his voice. He spoke hesitantly and took a step back from the woman. “I heard you were back in town.”

  “I heard the same about you.” Morgan stood a little straighter.

  “Yes, I’m working with my dad.”

  “What a coincidence. So am I.”

  An awkward moment passed, and then Morgan turned to Cooper. “This is Nathan and this…this is Christy.” She paused, and her bottom lip trembled.

  He gave her a small wink before stepping forward. “Nice to meet you. I’m Cooper.”

  The two men shook hands, and Cooper kept his grip firm, his gaze direct. They each took measure of the other in the way that men do, and then Cooper let his hand drop.

  “As in Cooper Simon, Maverick’s brother?” Christy asked, finally finding her voice again.

  He turned to her and nodded. “You know him?”

  “Not really. I mean, I’ve met him once. At, ah, a community event thing where he sang.” Christy looked at Morgan with a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes on account of the fact she looked nervous as hell. “You look really good, Morgan.”

  “You look beautiful.” That from Nathan. He looked as if he hadn’t meant to speak, but his face spoke volumes, and the guy’s face reddened. “Maybe we can grab a coffee or…”

  Morgan stiffened, her face now as pale as the linen on the tables. Candlelight threw shadows across her features, emphasizing the delicate bone structure along her jaw, the generous curve of her mouth.

  “Or maybe…maybe we can just talk or something.” Nathan half shrugged and then shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. Christy’s lips were pinched, and she slid her arm through Nathan’s—the point obvious: He’s mine.

  The hostess interrupted, holding up two menus, and indicated Nathan and Christy should follow her to their table. Nathan held on for a few seconds longer, watching Morgan.

  “It was really good to see you.”

  Morgan gave a quick, jerky nod, and Cooper led her to the front reception area, where he paid their bill before heading out to a cold wind off the ocean and a crisp night filled with stars. Cooper fired up his truck and glanced at Morgan. She’d refused his jacket, and he upped the heat.

  “Where do you want to go?” he asked gently, trying to gauge her mood. It was early, and he wasn’t willing to give up her company just yet.

  Her head was turned, her profile soft as she gazed out the window, into the night sky. Morgan’s fingers kneaded the edge of the seat belt, and her shoulders were hunched forward. Had she heard him? He was just about to repeat himself when she spoke, her voice low and husky and halting.

  “I’ve known Nathan Davidson since the third grade.”

  Silence followed those words, but Morgan didn’t take her gaze from the window. The throaty hum of the engine took over for a few moments until she continued.

  “He was from Alaska and moved here when his dad opened a law office in town. There was some sort of family connection, but I can’t remember what it was.” Her warm breath created condensation on the window, and she rubbed at it absently. “A cousin, maybe?

  “To everyone in my class, he was the new kid, but to me…he was exotic. This tall, gangly boy who’d traveled from a state no one I knew had ever visited. We all wanted to be his best friend. We all wanted the new boy to like us. He and Hank bonded over hockey and football, and Nathan didn’t know I existed until the tenth grade.”

  Her voice trailed off, and she blew out a long, slow breath, fogging the window even more. “Christy I’ve known since birth.” She turned to him, those big eyes luminous. “Literally. We were born a few hours apart at St. Mary’s, and most every memory I have, Christy is in it. We learned to ride bikes together. Attended Bible camp. Baseball. Dolls. Ran track…

  “She was my best friend. I could tell her anything. My hopes and dreams. The things that made me sad or angry or scared. Nathan…” Morgan exhaled and rested her head back against the seat. “She was my best friend. I was closer to her than most of my family. And now…”

  She
shuddered, and Cooper couldn’t help himself. He unbuckled his seat belt and moved over until he was close. So close he could see the tears that clung to her lashes. The bit of gloss still clinging to her lips. A small scar he’d never noticed, there above her right eyebrow.

  Something stirred in his chest. Something hot and hard and full of emotion. He reached forward and brushed back a long strand of soft hair, tucking it behind her ear as her eyelids slowly closed.

  “Now she’s just someone from my past that I no longer know.”

  Cooper trailed his finger down from Morgan’s ear and traced the delicate outline of her jaw. Her lips were parted and she was hot to the touch, though her complexion was still much too pale.

  “Where do you want me to take you?” he asked, watching the play of light caress her face.

  “I don’t want to go home. Not yet.”

  “Is there anywhere else you’d like to go?”

  She slowly shook her head and whispered, “No.”

  “I’ve got an idea,” he said before sliding back behind the wheel and securing his seat belt. She didn’t answer and turned to look out the window once again.

  Cooper left the restaurant and headed back to Fisherman’s Landing. He sailed through town and then pointed his truck toward home, arriving just as the moon disappeared behind a band of clouds, throwing his place deep in shadow. He grabbed Morgan’s hand as they headed into his house. She didn’t say a word. Didn’t ask any questions or seem all that interested in where she was.

  “Wine?” he asked as they entered the kitchen.

  Morgan shook her head and slid onto the sofa in front of the fireplace. She was in a dark funk, and he needed a game plan. He got the fireplace going, dimmed the lights, and turned on the large flat-screen TV. Grabbing a blanket, he slid onto the sofa beside her, not too close because he knew she needed room, but close enough that he could smell the honeysuckle shampoo she’d used that night.

  “Movie?” he asked.

  She shrugged but after a few seconds spoke. “Sure.” Morgan pulled up the blanket and settled her head against the back of the sofa, turning slightly toward him as she got comfortable.

  There wasn’t much choice, but he did stumble across an old comedy starring Hugh Grant. It was a harmless piece of fluff and would fill the time, so he clicked on the channel and put up his feet. About halfway through the movie, he realized he’d moved closer to Morgan, and by the time the credits rolled across the screen, she was fast asleep, her head resting on his shoulder. She’d not spoken one word the entire time. A glance at his watch told him it was past midnight.

  “Morgan,” he whispered, but his only answer was a soft sigh as she burrowed deeper against him.

  Cooper knew he could do one of two things. Wake Morgan and make the drive back to town, or gather her up and put her to bed here. He glanced down at her. She looked so damn peaceful and relaxed, he didn’t have the heart to wake her. So Cooper scooped her up, smiling to himself when she mumbled a bunch of nothing, and made his way upstairs. He put her in his bed, and she rolled over immediately, grabbing one of his pillows and burying her face in its softness.

  Her long hair splayed out around her head and shoulders, a dark inky weave of silk that drew his gaze. She looked so fragile and delicate—which was an absolute contradiction to the woman he’d come to know. Morgan Campbell had strength and backbone, and she probably didn’t know it.

  Carefully, he tucked her in, and after a few moments left her in silence. He was glad he’d been there for her tonight. Glad he’d managed to take some of the edge off what had been a stressful situation for Morgan. He wondered about Nathan and Christy. About Morgan’s past and what had happened to alter her future.

  He thought of her eyes. Of the way her mouth puckered when she was mad, or how she twirled the end of her hair when concentrating. He thought of her scars—the ones he’d seen and the others, the ones hidden beneath her clothes and skin.

  And he thought of their kiss.

  It was late. He’d had a long day, and yet he was wired as all hell and wound tighter than a two-dollar watch. What to do? He couldn’t lie on the sofa and think about Morgan Campbell all night. About how much he wanted another kiss. Another touch. And maybe more.

  “Shit,” he muttered, heading down the stairs. He shouldn’t be thinking about any of this stuff. He shouldn’t be entertaining any kind of notion that involved him and Morgan and kissing and touching. First off, she obviously had some serious issues stemming from a past that had scarred her inside and out. Secondly, he didn’t want to be the one responsible for ripping those scars open.

  Thirdly? Once his novel was done, he was leaving Fisherman’s Landing. This wasn’t where his life was. He’d leave and head back to California, where he’d lose himself in women who didn’t matter and a public persona that, at best, left a lot to be desired.

  Morgan deserved something better than what he had to offer.

  He paused at the bottom of the stairs and glanced back toward the welcoming light from his family room. Running his hands over the stubble along his chin, Cooper slipped his feet into his boots and headed out back to his shop.

  He needed to work and hoped his restless mind was up to the task. Because if not, it was going to be one hell of a long night.

  18

  Morgan woke up slowly, sleep-heavy eyes drifting open as she turned over in bed. The steel-blue comforter was soft, and she pulled it up under her chin, blinking to clear Sandman from her hazy brain as she gazed at the window. Sunlight streamed inside, shimmery beams that shot across the room to land on the large trunk at the end of the bed.

  Feeling lazy, she melted deeper into the bedding, inhaling an unfamiliar scent that was pleasing. Masculine. Sandalwood, maybe?

  A bird flew past the window. A bark echoed in the distance. She rose onto her elbows, her brain finally catching up to her what she was seeing, and panic rifled through her as she jerked her head to the left and then to the right.

  Books piled on the trunk.

  Red-and-white-plaid blanket strewn across the edge of the bed.

  Armoire to her right.

  Door directly across.

  A suitcase propped near an old desk that also held three stacks of hardbacks.

  Sitting up now, she glanced down and realized she was still in the clothes she’d worn to dinner. Dinner she’d had with Cooper. Dinner at La Spagatt.

  Dinner that had been interrupted by Nathan and Christy. Her stomach recoiled at the thought of those two, and she whipped back the covers and slipped her legs over the edge of the bed.

  It was then she realized she was in Cooper’s room. That she’d slept in Cooper’s bed. Now fully awake, she remembered coming back to his place. Watching some silly movie that did nothing to ease her sadness. After that, things got hazy, but she must have fallen asleep, and he’d opted to let her stay over rather than drive her home.

  Something buzzed, and she realized it was coming from her purse, which lay on top of the old desk near the window. Her phone.

  Quickly she crossed the room, wincing a bit because her leg was stiff. She should be used to it by now but there were still times when she woke up and forgot that she had limitations. That she wasn’t whole and perfect and fast and agile. That the old Morgan had disappeared along with a past that should best be forgotten.

  Agitated, she reached into her bag, retrieved the phone, and noticed a few things. A) It was well after nine in the morning, so she’d slept longer than normal, and B) there were several missed calls from her sister. One from Hank.

  And two text messages from Nathan.

  It was nice to see you.

  We need to talk. It’s important.

  Her finger hovered over Nathan’s name. His profile picture was still the same, and obviously, he still had her cell number. She stared at his photo for so long, her eyes blurred, and she angrily scrubbed at them, tossing her phone back into her purse and whirling around so fast, she nearly fell on her ass.

&n
bsp; She made her way downstairs, hands clutching the railing, but when she reached the kitchen, there was no one there. A quick glance at the family room told her it too was empty, as were the other rooms in the house.

  She walked over to the large windows that overlooked the backyard, drawn to the distance and the dark, rolling waves that washed in from the ocean. Cooper Simon had an amazing spot, and as she watched the water slosh up against the rocks, throwing foamy gray-white clouds into the air, she began to relax.

  It really was gorgeous out here, and sometimes, in moments like this, she forgot how much she hated New England.

  After a few seconds, Morgan headed outside, shivering because she had no coat, and eventually made her way out back to where Cooper’s shop was located. She’d never been inside and felt sort of silly knocking on the door located on the side of the building, but there was no answer. She knocked again and gingerly tried the door.

  It yawned open, and she peeked inside.

  “Cooper?” Her voice sounded flat, as if the cavernous room had swallowed it whole. It was dark inside, and she inched her way in, giving herself a few moments to adjust to the dim lighting before closing the door behind her.

  “Cooper?” she repeated, noticing a kitchen area to her immediate left. It was surprisingly modern, with granite counters, stainless steel appliances, and dark cherrywood cabinetry. To her left, musical equipment was set up in a semicircle, a piano the focal point there, and in the middle of all that was a seating area, with plush taupe and burgundy accent chairs as well as two large leather sofas.

  A door directly across from where she stood led to, well, she wasn’t sure where it led to. With a furtive glance around, Morgan shuffled across the space and carefully opened the door. Alas, there was no big reveal other than a gorgeous old Mustang that had been restored, as well as an old truck that looked like it had come straight out of the fifties, and a motorcycle that again looked like it had seen better days. She walked closer.