Cooper (The Family Simon 6)

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.

Indian Motorcycle. Hmmm.

With one last glance around, she retraced her steps, noticing an open door to her right that was hidden by the long shadows of the room. She peeked inside, and luckily, because of the massive window that took up most of the room, she had no trouble seeing clearly.

It was an office. Of sorts. Walls filled with framed artwork celebrating Broadway. Beau Simon movies, all of them signed, and more than a few pieces of artwork probably worth more than all her possessions.

There was a chair in the corner, a deep rich mahogany-colored piece, as well as another small sofa in front of a large desk—which sported the biggest desktop screen she’d ever seen—and fast asleep in front of the thing, head resting on his arms, was Cooper.

Carefully, she made her way over to the desk, a soft smile on her face. God, what was it about grown men fast asleep that was so appealing? She stood a few inches away and just let herself appreciate him. His hair was messy, his jaw shadowed with stubble, his mouth soft and relaxed. She could see the boy he once was and imagined he’d used all the charm he possessed to get himself out of more than a few scrapes.

She smiled at the thought and murmured, “Probably a lot.”

He made a noise then, a soft mutter, and she froze as his arm snaked out and slid up her hip. He turned and opened his eyes, smiling up at Morgan as he gently pulled her to him.

“Hey,” he said, voice scratchy from sleep.

She heard him speak. Saw his lips move. And yet all Morgan could think about was his hand on her hip. And that underneath her jeans, a mere whisper away from his fingers, was ugly, scarred skin.

She tried to move away, but Cooper wasn’t having it. He held on, regarding her in silence. “How did you sleep?” he asked, straightening a bit.

Breaths falling faster and her heartbeat running to catch up, Morgan exhaled shakily and shrugged. “Good, I guess. I don’t remember going to bed.”

He smiled, and it was a thing of beauty. A dazzling, hypnotizing, spell-casting work of art that took her breath away. Oxygen seemed to be in short supply, and Morgan had to work to clear her throat as she gulped in air.

“Did you know you snore?” he asked, his smile now devilish.

Wait. What? Her eyebrows slammed together as she frowned. “I don’t… I mean I’ve never snored.”

His grin widened. “How would you know?”

“Because no one has ever told me that before.”

“Well, you do.” Again with that smile. God, he was cheeky. “But it’s okay.” His eyes darkened, filled with something that made her heart take off again. “It’s kind of adorable.”