“Yes, the air is crisp tonight. You want some?” I ask, pointing at my pimento cheese bake. He already knows that I won’t share my salad. We usually share half our sandwiches with the other. He gets this mouthwatering French dip. I probably should get the same thing he does, but this way, we can share and switch things up.
“Sure.” Cooper usually sits across from me, but tonight he’s sitting next to me. He really has this place set up so everywhere you sit has a view. Sure, I’ve brought in some touches along the way. A throw pillow, some plants, blankets. I couldn’t believe he didn’t have one stinking blanket in the living room. That was absurd to me and had to be rectified. I kept with his theme, which really wasn’t much in the grand scheme with his white and gray pieces. I brought in some burgundy and orange colors, helping to brighten the space up. Even on the patio, he has two chairs with a table in between and the four top we’re sitting at now. It’s bar height and you can see the hustle and bustle during the day. The night life is what I live for in the evenings, the laughter, the way lovers hold onto one another, their bodies swaying, the kisses they steal along the way as they walk along the riverfront. It’s something out of a romance movie, you know, the type where it’s raining, yet the couple doesn’t care. They walk through it happily in love. That’s something I want. Desperately.
The slide of Coopers finger across my back causes me to jump. “What were you in such deep thought about?”
“Life, love, the pursuit of happiness?” I laugh even though it’s dry and full of sarcasm. His fingers never stop moving. His slow sweeps across my sensitive skin cause my senses to heighten.
“Yeah, that have something to do with the wine?” I snap my head around to face him. I’m not sure Coop has ever had to struggle. I don’t begrudge him that, not in the least, but sometimes I think he forgets there’s a great big world out there and I’m just one of those people who are struggling to survive.
“I’m going to need more wine to even touch on that subject,” I retort. His eyes roam over my body, starting at my mouth, stopping at my throat, watching as I gulp air, then down to the tops of my breasts. After getting fired, I came home, ripped my business attire off, and let it drop where they landed. I pulled on a pair of cotton shorts that have seen better days, and a white tank top, sans bra. It’s my usual bedtime attire; usually after my shower and our dinner. Today has just been one of those days when I wanted to be comfortable.
I clear my throat. Cooper stands abruptly, pushing his chair back. “Then I guess I’ll go get that glass of wine. You eat. Otherwise, I’m cutting you off,” he demands.
Cooper Jackson in a suit is something to drool over. And at home when he’s in nothing but a pair of gym shorts. I have to watch the drool that threatens to fall out of my mouth on a daily basis, especially when he comes in from his morning run. I swear I burnt my mouth when I swallowed my coffee too quickly more than once, which typically makes Cooper smile and saunter off, giving me the most delicious view of his broad shoulders, his tapered waist. He even has those dimples at the base of his lower back. It’s an unspoken word between us though—neither of us would say that we both enjoyed looking more than we should.
I do what Cooper asked, diving into my food to prepare for this conversation. I should really just rip the Band-Aid off. Something keeps holding me back though, making me hate myself even more.
It’s not until I’m finished with my salad and taking the first bite of my sandwich that he returns. I hear him before I see him. “I hope you have my wine like you promised. Look, I’m even eating like the good girl I am.” I’m laying the sarcasm on thick.
“What do you take me for, Hadley, a liar?” When he sits down, he places my glass of wine in front of me. Those forearms of his appear in my line of sight, and it’s then I know he’s changed out of his suit and into something more comfortable.
“Not you, Coop.” My voice has a rasp to it, and it’s not the wine from earlier causing it. It’s him, the feeling of him surrounding me without even touching me.
“You have your wine. You want to tell me now what has you so upset?” I turn in my seat, swallowing a large gulp of wine before looking at him. I need this reassurance before telling him what a fuck-up I am.