“I slapped you, I didn’t punch!”
“I’m sorry if my bruised skull can’t tell the difference.”
COOPER STEPPED OUT of the shower looking far more chipper than I’d ever seen him. And the mammoth pile of pancakes waiting for him only improved his mood. I sat beside him at the counter while he chewed thoughtfully, obviously trying to choose the right words. “I know I don’t have the right to ask, but why did I smell Alan here?”
“You’re right,” I told him softly. “You don’t have the right to ask that.”
“Mo.”
“Alan was here. Nothing happened,” I told him, knowing that a heavily edited version of my evening with Alan would be best for everyone. Cooper might not get angry with me, but he probably wouldn’t grant the same courtesy to Alan. The last thing I needed was for Cooper to be arrested for tearing the head off a federal official in the middle of Main Street. “He made it pretty clear how he felt, but I told him that he was just a friend to me. I’m not going to say I didn’t consider being with him, just to get you out of my system. To hurt you back. But when it came down to it, I just couldn’t. There’s no getting you out of my system, Cooper. You’re there to stay.”
A relieved, grateful smile broke over Cooper’s face. “I bet Alan didn’t take that well.”
“Actually, other than insulting you, he was a gentleman about it. Unlike a certain smug werewolf who gave me a permanent hickey to mark his territory. And peed on my doorstep—which you will be hosing off, by the way.”
Around a mouthful of pancake, he muttered, “Yes, yes, I am Alan’s emotional inferior. I’m sure that will keep him warm at night.”
“Now, that’s plain mean.”
21
Stasis
IF ANYONE COMMENTED ON Cooper’s sudden return to Grundy, they didn’t do it in front of me. It was obvious that we’d reconciled. He was back in the saloon every morning, keeping a quiet, careful watch over me and his impending pup. He’d swoop in and pick up any object heavier than ten pounds if I tried to lift it. He made me take regular breaks to get off my feet and growled at anyone who spoke to me in anything but the sweetest of tones. When he tried to talk Evie into cutting my hours at work, we both told him to mind his own business. Seriously, there are limits.
I was back in the kitchen, cheerful, productive, talkative. It was as if my friends stopped holding their breath around me. Conversation was normal. The banter was back. I think they were so glad to see the old Mo that they didn’t have it in their hearts to rib me about it. Lynette, however, was even more sour than usual.
Nate Gogan drew up the papers for me to purchase the house. It was the first place I’d really considered my own home. I couldn’t imagine raising the baby anywhere else. I thought he was going to cry when I signed them. When I called to inform Kara that I was a homeowner, she was a little sad but started making plans for a visit within the next month, while it was still warm. I think she’d been holding out for me to come home, but it felt good to have made a decision, to know that I was a permanent resident of Grundy, Alaska.
Cooper and I were slowly moving to a more permanent arrangement. He gave up the lease on his place and moved his stuff into my cabin. He put a picture of Gracie, Samson, and Pops on the mantel. He made a little nursery by screening in a corner of our room, although we knew we would eventually have to add on another bedroom. The house was a little crowded and more than a little “sporty,” but it was nice feeling that he had a stake in the place.
And miracle of miracles, he actually asked me out on a date, having realized that we’d known each other for almost a year and were expecting a baby in a few months but had never actually left the house for a meal. So there I was, one glorious Thursday morning, standing in front of my side of the closet, trying to find something to wear to dinner that Friday. And Cooper came out of the bathroom, pulling up his camouflage overalls.
“That doesn’t look like fine-dining attire,” I said, arching my eyebrow as I sipped my ginger tea. “Your outfit definitely won’t go with this dress.”
I held up a little blue number that he’d admired on several occasions, even though I knew it would be a miracle if I fit into it anymore. My jeans were feeling pretty tight these days. I would be bidding my precious La Perla a fond farewell soon. Eventually, we were going to have to tell everybody we were pregnant. I had only so many forgiving sweatshirts I could wear to work.
Cooper groaned at the sight of the dress. “You’re killing me, woman. I just got a last-minute call from one of my regulars,” he said.
“Which makes you sound like a hooker.”
Cooper rolled his eyes. “This guy wants to take some clients fishing down at the Snake River. It’s some stupid spontaneous bonding thing he thinks can prevent economic disaster. He’s one of my steady clients, and he’s a grudge holder. If I turn him down once, he’ll blab to all his buddies that I’m an asshole and they should take their business elsewhere. With the season coming up . . .”
“Cooper, it’s just a one-day trip. No big deal. Don’t worry.”
“I’ll be back in the morning, to take you and that blue dress out on the town, I swear.”
“Actually, maybe we should put it off until another night,” I told him. “I’m not really feeling all that great, hence the tea. Your child seems intent on making me throw up until I turn inside out.”
He kissed the top of my head. “Ugh. Now I really don’t want to leave you. And we are going out tomorrow night. There’s some stuff we need to talk about.”
“OK.” I poked him in the chest. “But if you take me camping again, I’m going to kick your ass.”
He smiled, nuzzled my neck, and kissed me long and hard before slipping his cap onto his head. “I believe it.”
I sat on the porch, drinking my tea and waving as he pulled the truck out of the driveway. Would this be what our future would be like? Me waving as my big, strong man went a-hunting, leaving me behind to tend the home fires? How positively medieval.
“I’ve got to go to work,” I told myself, shuddering, setting the cup aside and pushing to my feet. “Bring home some bacon, fry it up in a pan, something, before they take my feminist membership card away.”