And so we stood there staring at each other. Well, Cooper stared holes through my head. I stared at his massive, long-fingered hands and had all sorts of indecent thoughts about proportionality. My eyes flashed up to Cooper’s, and I realized that he saw where I was looking. I hated the blush that crept into my cheeks, knowing that it would eventually spread over my chest and down my belly and leave an inconvenient warmth settled there. I blew out a breath and tried to will the rush of blood away.
Another silent moment passed.
Cooper cleared his throat. “Evie said you needed some help out at your place, hauling some stuff in from your garage? She said I should offer to lend you a hand.”
I quirked an eyebrow. The only thing in my garage at the moment was my elliptical trainer, which I’d managed to drag out of the U-Haul but not into my house. I’d told Evie about having to work out in the garage until I could get someone to move it in for me. I would have to talk to Evie about the difference between me making idle conversation and dropping hints to match me up with some burly social misfit willing to move heavy objects. Then again, I think it amused her to watch me squirm around Cooper that first morning.
Thank God I hadn’t mentioned hauling my “collection” three thousand miles with me. Evie would have had a field day. I was something of a lingerie connoisseur. The previous winter, after saving up for a year, I’d placed a massive order with La Perla, swearing that my mother would never find out that I spent enough on underwear to feed a Third World village and buy the villagers a goat farm. And she didn’t. Until she went through my bills under the guise of “helping me organize.”
We didn’t speak for almost a month over that one.
It was worth it. I loved lingerie. I loved the feel of satin and silk on my skin. I loved the juxtaposition of wearing a pair of two-hundred-dollar lace panties under blue jeans, like the pair I was wearing at the moment. Lingerie was a personal statement that you didn’t have to declare to the world. You could be as demure or as naughty as you wanted to be, and no one ever had to know unless you showed them . . . or were injured in a serious car accident. After living with people who wore all emotions and opinions on their sleeves, having a few wearable secrets was the ultimate turn-on.
I had fond memories associated with almost all of my little ensembles. I still had the classic white lace strapless bra I’d worn under my senior prom dress. I kept the red satin bikinis I’d almost lost in a heady tangle with a U. Miss. teaching assistant whose name I couldn’t remember. And despite the way my engagement turned out, I’d held on to the black lace corset set I’d worn the night Tim proposed. I couldn’t think of the underwear without thinking of the man associated with it, and vice versa.
Hey, I find scrapbooking to be far more disturbing.
Knowing my limits in terms of self-denial, I’d hauled the entire collection with me to Grundy. It was kept in sturdy, labeled, individual boxes, carefully arranged on my closet shelf. And if I’d told Evie about it, there was no doubt she would have shared this with Cooper, too. The woman clearly had no scruples when it came to matchmaking.
“It’s just some exercise equipment,” I told him. “I know it seems like a silly thing to haul all the way up here. But there isn’t a gym up here, so no kickboxing, no racquetball. I didn’t want to gain forty pounds my first winter, so . . .”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about it.” Cooper snorted. His tone implied that he didn’t expect me to make it through a winter, so weight gain was the least of my worries.
“Well, what do you do for exercise?” I asked, my eyes narrowing.
“Chop and haul wood, hike, you know, work to support myself?” he said pointedly.
“Right, what’s that like?” I asked.
Well, that was way more snotty than I intended it to be.
Cooper sighed, almost huffing out in annoyance. “Look, if Evie wants me to help you, I will. Just tell me when you want me to come over.”
The command, the irritation in his voice, struck a nerve. Out of everybody in town, why did this one person make me so angry? There were others who had been less than welcoming. Heck, Lynette still called me “Hey, you” when she called out her orders. But somehow, coming from Cooper, it grated on my nerves like steel wool.
I snapped, “I don’t. It’s fine where it is.”
“It won’t be fine when it starts to get cold and your engine block freezes because you can’t pull your truck into your garage.”
I gave my most saccharine smile. “Well, I don’t want to trouble you. I’m sure I can get someone else to help. Alan Dahling sort of made a standing offer.”
Cooper’s nostrils flared at the mention of the ranger. “Well, I guess it’s settled, then.”
“I guess so. But thank you anyway.”
I steered my cart around Cooper’s and tried to depart without any undignified flouncing. I changed my route around the shelves, deliberately avoiding Cooper until we somehow managed to hit the checkout lanes at the same time. Darby Carmichael watched me glare at Cooper while another girl checked him out at Register 2.
“Why are you giving Cooper Graham the ‘eat musk ox and die’ look?” she asked after he sauntered out of the store.
“I don’t think that’s the expression,” I told her.
“Have you ever had musk ox?” she asked.
“I have not,” I conceded. “You know how some people just rub you the wrong way? Well, Cooper’s my own personal sandpaper.”
“He’s like that with everybody,” Darby assured me. “Don’t take it personally. Some people were just born with a pinecone shoved up their butts. In Cooper’s case, it’s lodged sideways.”
“Well, that is an entertaining mental picture, so thanks.”