The One Real Thing
Page 72
I’d been staring at her earrings for a while. Each was a large hammered copper heart with a smaller hammered silver heart layered over it. “Did you make those?”
She fingered them. “Yup.”
“Those are beautiful. Are you open tomorrow?” Not that I had the extra cash to spend on jewelry . . .
Dahlia laughed and nodded.
Cooper had been busy at the bar, but I was aware of him the whole time I spoke with Dahlia. When he stopped by us, I looked up at him and immediately got ensnared in his gaze. “You ladies come up with any solutions to the Devlin problem?”
“No,” Bailey said. “We’ve been talking about Dahlia’s jewelry.”
“I thought you were worried.”
Clearly he was.
I frowned, wanting to comfort him.
“I am,” Bailey insisted. “But solutions don’t come to me at the end of a long day. My brain works better first thing in the morning and I promise if I think of anything I will let you know.”
“I think our best bet is George,” Dahlia said. “We just need to talk him out of selling to Devlin.”
I felt a sudden flurry of butterflies at the mention of George. After all, he was the reason I had ever discovered Hartwell. Well, Sarah and her letters were. If George returned, I’d finally get to give him Sarah’s letters. “Do you think he’ll come back to finalize the sale?”
“Probably.” Bailey said and then realization lit up her eyes. “Oh, Sarah’s letters.”
“What?” Dahlia frowned. “What am I missing?”
Without saying a word Cooper disappeared to the other end of the bar, and I knew it was because we’d mentioned his mother’s cousin. I frowned, uneasiness settling over me at his continued reaction to the woman.
She had died young. Of cancer. In prison.
Hadn’t she served enough penance to be forgiven?
“. . . so Jess brought the letters here to give to George.” I caught the tail end of Bailey explaining the situation to Dahlia.
“Oh, my God, that’s so sad,” Dahlia said. “And so kind of you, Jessica.”
I gave a strained smile, unable to get that feeling of foreboding out of my chest.
“I think that’s the plan,” Bailey said. “We find a way to contact George. Get him back here. We stop him selling to the Devlins and Jess can give him the letters.”
The two friends nodded triumphantly at each other, happy with their plan. I, however, suddenly wondered if I wasn’t setting myself up to fail here in Hartwell . . . and setting myself up for heartbreak over Cooper Lawson.
There was no need for me to worry about Cooper questioning why I was quiet as he drove me to his place that night. There was no need to worry because he was too busy stewing quietly over his own thoughts to notice I was doing the same.
My worries about what that meant for us dissipated a little when he got out of the truck and came around to take my hand as I got out. He absentmindedly brushed his thumb over the top of my hand as he led me into his house. He liked me enough to still want to touch me.
So maybe he wasn’t thinking about his anger toward Sarah or my compassion for her, and why I was so compassionate about her . . .
Fingers crossed.
When he said, “You should have told me about Dana,” I wondered if this conversation was any better than a convo about Sarah.
I sat down on the sofa, breaking his hold, but Cooper sat on the coffee table so that our knees touched, not allowing me physical space in the hopes, I thought, of me not creating any emotional space between us.
And I really, really wanted emotional space when it came to the topic of his beautiful ex-wife and his heated reaction to her earlier that night.
“Jessica,” he prompted.
He usually reserved my name for when we were having sex. I took the dropping of my nickname to mean that he meant business. “I honestly didn’t want to stress you out about it. I didn’t think she was worth it.”
“Anything she says to you is my business,” he snapped.
More worry needled at me. I didn’t want to come off as some jealous girlfriend, but the truth was . . . I’d felt a surge of possessiveness over him when I realized Dana was in the bar. The feeling scared me. I’d never felt possessive or jealous over a man in my entire life.
“What is it?” he said, leaning closer to me.
The worry I felt was mirrored in his expression.
“You’ve got this look in your eyes . . .” He took hold of my hand and squeezed it. “You’ve been wearing it since I threw Dana out of my place.”
“Your reaction tonight . . . all that heat . . . Do you still have feelings for her?” I blurted out.
Cooper dropped my hand, shock in his eyes. “What?”
Oh boy.
This conversation could go downhill really fast, I knew that, but I also thought the best policy at that point was total honesty. “The way you reacted to her . . . there was a lot of passion there, Cooper.” Silently, I thought to myself: And she’s drop-dead gorgeous.
I knew that last part was particularly unfair because it suggested Cooper was a shallow man. And that was not how I intended it. But he was a man . . . and I couldn’t imagine many men not succumbing to someone as beautiful as Dana.
He surveyed me a moment and then he drew his hand over his mouth, looking suddenly tired. “I’ve been ignoring her,” he said softly. “When she first started popping up after the divorce, asking me back, I got pissed. And then I realized getting pissed was giving her what she wanted. She thought my anger meant something. All it meant was that I couldn’t believe that the person who’d taken away a man I considered a brother had the selfish audacity to show up bothering me again.
She fingered them. “Yup.”
“Those are beautiful. Are you open tomorrow?” Not that I had the extra cash to spend on jewelry . . .
Dahlia laughed and nodded.
Cooper had been busy at the bar, but I was aware of him the whole time I spoke with Dahlia. When he stopped by us, I looked up at him and immediately got ensnared in his gaze. “You ladies come up with any solutions to the Devlin problem?”
“No,” Bailey said. “We’ve been talking about Dahlia’s jewelry.”
“I thought you were worried.”
Clearly he was.
I frowned, wanting to comfort him.
“I am,” Bailey insisted. “But solutions don’t come to me at the end of a long day. My brain works better first thing in the morning and I promise if I think of anything I will let you know.”
“I think our best bet is George,” Dahlia said. “We just need to talk him out of selling to Devlin.”
I felt a sudden flurry of butterflies at the mention of George. After all, he was the reason I had ever discovered Hartwell. Well, Sarah and her letters were. If George returned, I’d finally get to give him Sarah’s letters. “Do you think he’ll come back to finalize the sale?”
“Probably.” Bailey said and then realization lit up her eyes. “Oh, Sarah’s letters.”
“What?” Dahlia frowned. “What am I missing?”
Without saying a word Cooper disappeared to the other end of the bar, and I knew it was because we’d mentioned his mother’s cousin. I frowned, uneasiness settling over me at his continued reaction to the woman.
She had died young. Of cancer. In prison.
Hadn’t she served enough penance to be forgiven?
“. . . so Jess brought the letters here to give to George.” I caught the tail end of Bailey explaining the situation to Dahlia.
“Oh, my God, that’s so sad,” Dahlia said. “And so kind of you, Jessica.”
I gave a strained smile, unable to get that feeling of foreboding out of my chest.
“I think that’s the plan,” Bailey said. “We find a way to contact George. Get him back here. We stop him selling to the Devlins and Jess can give him the letters.”
The two friends nodded triumphantly at each other, happy with their plan. I, however, suddenly wondered if I wasn’t setting myself up to fail here in Hartwell . . . and setting myself up for heartbreak over Cooper Lawson.
There was no need for me to worry about Cooper questioning why I was quiet as he drove me to his place that night. There was no need to worry because he was too busy stewing quietly over his own thoughts to notice I was doing the same.
My worries about what that meant for us dissipated a little when he got out of the truck and came around to take my hand as I got out. He absentmindedly brushed his thumb over the top of my hand as he led me into his house. He liked me enough to still want to touch me.
So maybe he wasn’t thinking about his anger toward Sarah or my compassion for her, and why I was so compassionate about her . . .
Fingers crossed.
When he said, “You should have told me about Dana,” I wondered if this conversation was any better than a convo about Sarah.
I sat down on the sofa, breaking his hold, but Cooper sat on the coffee table so that our knees touched, not allowing me physical space in the hopes, I thought, of me not creating any emotional space between us.
And I really, really wanted emotional space when it came to the topic of his beautiful ex-wife and his heated reaction to her earlier that night.
“Jessica,” he prompted.
He usually reserved my name for when we were having sex. I took the dropping of my nickname to mean that he meant business. “I honestly didn’t want to stress you out about it. I didn’t think she was worth it.”
“Anything she says to you is my business,” he snapped.
More worry needled at me. I didn’t want to come off as some jealous girlfriend, but the truth was . . . I’d felt a surge of possessiveness over him when I realized Dana was in the bar. The feeling scared me. I’d never felt possessive or jealous over a man in my entire life.
“What is it?” he said, leaning closer to me.
The worry I felt was mirrored in his expression.
“You’ve got this look in your eyes . . .” He took hold of my hand and squeezed it. “You’ve been wearing it since I threw Dana out of my place.”
“Your reaction tonight . . . all that heat . . . Do you still have feelings for her?” I blurted out.
Cooper dropped my hand, shock in his eyes. “What?”
Oh boy.
This conversation could go downhill really fast, I knew that, but I also thought the best policy at that point was total honesty. “The way you reacted to her . . . there was a lot of passion there, Cooper.” Silently, I thought to myself: And she’s drop-dead gorgeous.
I knew that last part was particularly unfair because it suggested Cooper was a shallow man. And that was not how I intended it. But he was a man . . . and I couldn’t imagine many men not succumbing to someone as beautiful as Dana.
He surveyed me a moment and then he drew his hand over his mouth, looking suddenly tired. “I’ve been ignoring her,” he said softly. “When she first started popping up after the divorce, asking me back, I got pissed. And then I realized getting pissed was giving her what she wanted. She thought my anger meant something. All it meant was that I couldn’t believe that the person who’d taken away a man I considered a brother had the selfish audacity to show up bothering me again.
