Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Cooper cut me off, kissing me fiercely. I was dizzy when he released me and rested his forehead on mine. “I’m glad we met, Silas. You’re a breath of fresh air. Exactly what I needed.”
“You too.” I smiled.
“Don’t worry too much about what comes next. You’re a smart guy with a lot to offer. Good things are coming.”
It sounded like fortune-teller wisdom, and I almost asked if he had a cookie to go along with his advice, but I was feeling oddly emotional and knew the joke wouldn’t land.
“Thanks. Take care.”
Cooper waited till I was near the end of the driveway to call out, “And remember, no more going for strolls in the middle of a blizzard!”
I turned on my heels, pulled my glove off, and flipped him the bird.
I trudged the rest of the way to Vally’s place with a goofy grin on my face and Cooper’s laughter echoing behind me.
Twenty minutes later, a van pulled into the driveway next door. Two blond-haired kids jumped out and ran to their father, who waited for them with open arms at the bottom step of the porch. Cooper scooped them both up and swung them in a circle.
Gleeful squealing cut through the quiet afternoon lull, and suddenly, everyone was talking at once.
Dad this, Dad that…
Cooper motioned for them to head inside and turned to speak to the woman who’d opened the trunk. His ex, I figured. I couldn’t hear a word, but the tone was pleasant enough.
Was I eavesdropping?
Damn right I was.
I’d been hoping for a glimpse of his family. After hearing their voices on speakerphone for days I was curious about their dynamic. I’d always thought I had a decent relationship with my parents, but somewhere along the line, it had become transactional. Cooper was just happy to talk to them.
He took the backpacks and a duffel bag and nodded to the woman. Cooper seemed anxious to move on, and maybe she did too. And hey…it might have been my imagination, but I could have sworn he glanced my way. I almost waved. He couldn’t see me from my lookout post in the window, though, and honestly…why go there?
Two days and two nights of snow, ice, wind, countless bowls of soup, cups of coffee, teasing smiles, and naked writhing under covers. But it was over.
Now the sky was clear, the sun was shining, and that chapter was closed. I’d survived a storm, met a new friend, and had some amazing sex. It was accidental in every way possible. Which made it all the more perfect.
I would have left immediately, but I couldn’t get a flight out of Burlington till the following afternoon, so I drove into town—without chains. I grimaced at the thought of Cooper’s reaction. No doubt, he’d be pissed. But the roads had been salted, and according to the weather service, there was nothing but sunshine in the forecast.
I stopped by the coffee shop, griped about the cold with Davey, bought the pair of boots I should have purchased on day one, treated myself to a donut at Dexter’s—and tried not to stare ’cause no shit, Dexter the donut guy was a freaking dark-haired, green-eyed Adonis.
Then I ended up at a corner booth at Log Cabin Diner, which yes, was a refurbished log cabin with a green roof and a red door reminiscent of childhood Lincoln Logs. I people-watched while I ate my dinner and did my best to ignore the faint stir of envy at their easy familiarity. This was a real community with folks who knew each other, looked out for each other, but…it wasn’t home.
I was an outsider here. Like it or not, it was time to rejoin the real world.
CHAPTER 8
COOPER
“Jane has a chocolate cake divided into eight slices. She ate a third of it and shared the remaining pie equally with her friend. How much did they each get?” Ivy groaned, plonking her head on the island in defeat. “I hate fractions.”
“It’s easy,” Chase piped up, swiveling from side to side on his barstool. “If you’re Jane and you share with me, I’ll eat the rest of the cake.”
“I’m not sharing my chocolate cake,” Ivy grumbled, her head still bent and golden hair cascading over her arms.
“You have to,” her brother singsonged. “Dad said so.”
Ivy straightened to better deliver her newly perfected eye roll, which involved lifting her gaze skyward for an extended period. Something told me this was a precursor to teenage attitude, but my girl wasn’t quite so jaded yet. And she loved her little brother.
She flipped her long hair and frowned. “Can you help me, Dad?”
I pulled a yikes face as I leaned in to read Ivy’s assignment. I supposed this wasn’t where I should admit that the fifth-grade curriculum scared the hell out of me. Thankfully, I remembered enough about fractions to steer her in the right direction. I hoped.