The Perfect Homecoming (Pine River) (8 page)

Cooper glanced back at Leo and Bob. “You’re sure it’s no trouble?”

“Not at all,” Bob said. “I’ll call Luke now.”

“Cooper, come
on
,” Emma said.

“See you, Cooper!” Leo said, having managed to get the straw out of his mouth, driven by a desire to have the last word. “Between Luke and Dad and me, we know everything there is to know about Pine River. And I mean
everything
, if you get my drift.” He sort of waggled his brows as Bob fit the straw into his mouth once more.

“Looking forward to it,” Cooper said, and followed Emma out onto the porch. Once outside he said a little curiou
sly, “Actually, I don’t get his drift at all.”

Emma wrapped her arms tightly around her and gave him her best glare. “I can’t believe you
followed
me here.”

“Yeah, well, I can’t believe you won’t give me that stupid medal.” He arched a dark brow at her.

“I told you, I don’t have anything that belongs to Carl. Not one thing. He’s desperate and he’s acting like an idiot, and he happens to be very good at that.”

“I won’t disagree,” Cooper said. “But that doesn’t mean he’s lying.” He smiled a little, which made his eyes glimmer in the winter light. “But you know what? He seems pretty damn sure you
do
have it. He’s so sure, in fact, that he was willing to pay me a lot of money to come up here and get it. So why not hand it over? Then you can go back to your life, and God knows I’ll get back to mine.”

Emma didn’t like the way he sounded so eager to get back to his. And really, Carl had sent him out here for a forgotten old medal?
Why
? Emma curiously studied Cooper a moment. “What’s a lot?” she asked skeptically.

“None of your business. But let’s just say there were more than a few zeroes attached.”

That made Carl a lot crazier than Emma had previously believed. God, she should never have gone to Malibu with him! Frankly, she should never have done a lot of stuff she’d done in the last ten years, but then again, she was her own worst enemy, never able to resist the temptation to hurt herself with bad-news men. Why she couldn’t be normal, couldn’t be comfortable with someone like Cooper, why she couldn’t believe that was even
possible . . .

Okay, so she was messed up. But she was not as messed up as Carl Freeman, apparently, and there was some consolation in that. “If you’re taking money from him, that kind of makes you a mercenary, doesn’t it?” she asked, hoping, she supposed, to shame Cooper off the porch.

Cooper looked surprised, and then he laughed. He was not easily shamed. “Money talks, baby. And if you took the medal from him, what does that make you?”

An enormous rush of shame swept through Emma. She knew what it made her. She knew how despicable she was. She folded her arms over her body, holding herself tightly. “That would make me a thief. Which I am not, which I keep trying to tell you. I didn’t take his stupid medal.”

“Hmm,” he said dubiously, his gaze sliding down her body.

Great. She was a horrible liar. Emma was going to have to shift tactics. “What’s really going on here? Are you doing this because I wouldn’t let you kiss me in Beverly Hills?” It was a pure shot in the dark. She had no illusions about what had happened that night at Beverly Hills. But she also knew men did not like to be challenged on their game.

Lo and behold, her question had the desired effect. Cooper stared down at her in shock. “Are you kidding?”

“Not kidding. You wouldn’t be the first guy who doesn’t like rejection. Usually guys like you can’t bear it.”

“Guys like
me
?”

“Yeah,” she said, nodding. “Guys who are used to girls wanting them. And then when one doesn’t, they can’t handle it.”

He swayed back, his eyes narrowing. “In what universe did you reject me?” he demanded.

“You wanted me to have a drink with you. I said no.” She shrugged, letting that stand as the Great Rejection of Beverly Hills. Say it enough, and they believe it.

But like that night in Beverly Hills, Cooper didn’t bite. He suddenly chuckled, then shifted forward and touched her arm, his hand curling around her elbow and drawing her close. “Here’s the funny thing about that, Emma,” he said, his voice smooth and deep. He bent his head so that his mouth was very close to hers, and her pulse began to flutter like an army of hummingbirds. “If I’d wanted to have you that night
. . .
I would have
had
you.”

She gaped at his audacity as a stronger, heart-melting shiver of delight raced through her.
Bravo!
she wanted to shout. She couldn’t think of a time a man had
ever
said that to her, had ever been so bold with her. She glanced down at the hand on her elbow that was now beginning to trail lazily up her arm to her shoulder.

“Here’s what’s going to happen now,” he said, his finger now sliding across her shoulder. “I’m going to be around town a few days, so you’ll have plenty of time to think about the medal and what you want to do with it.” He moved his finger on to her chin, drawing a tantalizing line from ear to ear. “I’ll check in with you and see if you haven’t decided to hand it over after all. Because we both know you have it.” He touched her bottom lip, his finger lingering there, and he smiled in a sexy, self-confident way that reminded her of the male stars in the films Emma poured herself into to escape the truth of her life, and it sent another, much more aggressive wave of impossible desire down her spine.

Emma didn’t like that. She didn’t like that at all. She didn’t like the way she was melting inside or had lost the upper hand. She didn’t like the powerful tug of attraction, because that was where the bad news always started. She tried to bite his finger, but he was too quick; he yanked it away from her lip a hairbreadth before she snapped.

“I don’t have to think about anything, Cooper. Hang around as long as you want. Get yourself invited to dinner at every house in Pine River for all I care. There is nothing to hand over.”

His smile deepened. “You’re a horrible liar,” he said, and walked off the porch, pausing at the bottom to glance back at her. “I’ll be seeing you around, Emma.” He walked on.

“Ass clown,” she muttered as he strolled casually down to the gate.

“I heard that,” he called out as he went out the gate and got into his ass-clown car.

SIX

Emma Tyler had nerve, Cooper would give her that. Was she crazy? She thought she had
rejected
him? He hadn’t known whether to laugh outright or put his fist through the wall with that one.

The thing about women that Cooper never seemed to get, had never come close to getting in his thirty-eight years, was how mad they would become for no apparent reason.
He
was the one who ought to be mad here, not Emma. He was the one who had come all this way, and yet, she acted as if
she
had somehow been wronged. And she was the one who had done all the wrong things!

Nope, he didn’t get it, and if Eli were here, he’d say the reason Cooper didn’t get it was Cooper’s own fault, that he’d never spent enough time with a woman to learn how to understand them.
It’s an art, Jessup. You don’t suddenly just get it after a few weeks of dating. You have to study it.
He’d offered this up when Jill had ended it with Cooper for the second and final time. Yeah, well, Eli had never been Mr. Steady, either, but then he’d gone and fallen in love, and the moment he did, he was a goddamn expert.

The one thing Cooper did get after that ridiculous exchange on the Kendrick porch was that Emma had the damn war medal. He might not be an expert on women, but he was an expert on liars, thanks to his older brother, Derek, who had schooled him properly.

Derek was the biggest liar of all. He’d perfected the art of deception—about his addiction, about his whereabouts, about hiding from the law. There wasn’t a single thing that Derek hadn’t lied about in his life. There wasn’t a moment of his life he hadn’t tried to hide from someone. Well, he wasn’t hiding at present, but he was probably still lying while he did his time for armed robbery.

Cooper grimaced to himself as he drove back to the Grizzly Lodge and Café. He’d had a voice mail from his mother, a cheerful message that Derek was being released. “Just in time for Christmas!” she’d happily crowed.

Yeah, great, just in time for Christmas.

Cooper still loved Derek in that way brothers have of loving each other, no matter what. But he didn’t find his brother very good company. He resented the grief Derek had put his parents through, the constant disruption in his family life. Admittedly, Cooper had learned a few things from his brother. In the beginning, Derek had taught him a lot, like how to fish, how to scale cliff faces, and how to blow up old tractor tires and the like. And he’d unwittingly taught Cooper how to read a liar. Early on, even when Derek looked as innocent as a toddler on Christmas morning, Cooper could tell when he was lying.

Eventually, the police could tell, too, and the law had caught up to Derek.

Now, thanks to Derek’s training, Cooper could see the look in Emma’s eye and sense that she wasn’t being exactly truthful, either. He knew it was simply a matter of outwaiting her, and eventually, she’d give in and tell him the truth about the medal. Just like Derek. Because Cooper definitely wasn’t going anywhere now, not after she’d tried to turn it around and make him out to be the guy who was chasing after her.

Women.

Cooper would try not to say “I told you so” when she did finally confess the truth, even if that completely reduced his satisfaction at being right.

Cooper had been in some dives in his life, but nothing had given him the creeps quite like the Beaver Room at the Grizzly Lodge and Café. It was all he could do to sleep in a room that looked like it had been gnawed by giant rodents, much less hang out. When he’d checked in, Ms. Boxer had said it was the only available one. “The Kisslers booked a wedding party here,” she’d said apologetically. “Otherwise, I’d put you in the Peacock Room. But the Beaver Room is one of our most popular.”

Cooper stopped in to clean up after his visit to the Kendricks. He called his mother to pass the time and listened to her talk excitedly about Derek’s release. “I don’t have a firm date yet, but I’ll call you as soon as I know,” she’d said. “You’re coming home, right, honey? You’re going to be here when your brother gets out, aren’t you?”

He promised his mother he would—how could he refuse her exuberant plea, her excitement of having “her two boys” home for the holidays? He hoped he got credit somewhere for being at least a decent son, because the last place he wanted to be was in Huntsville, Texas just before Christmas.

When he said goodbye to his mom, Cooper had to get out of that room. Besides, it was genetically impossible for him to be in a place like Pine River on a day like this and not be outside. The weather was good, really good—no clouds, no breeze, nothing but blue overhead. He’d read in the local paper that the area had experienced an unusually dry couple of months. It was harming the ski industry, the article went on to report, but for Cooper, it was perfect. It looked like an excellent day to drive up Sometimes Pass and check out Cheyenne Canyon. Eli had mentioned it, and Cooper had read about it in one of the Grizzly Lodge brochures.
Remote Colorado wilderness! Pristine trails through spectacular mountain scenery. Hikers will be treated to the melodic sound of a rushing stream and the thrill of redheaded finches. The granite face of massifs and valley vistas will greet you as you descend to the floor of the canyon, where the state’s best white water awaits.

The trail was probably closed for the winter, but he hoped to at least get a visual to know if it was worth coming back.

Cooper strolled down to the store he’d seen on the main drag: Tag’s Outfitters. He ducked in through the door of the adobe building and instantly felt closed in by the low ceilings and the sheer amount of stuff crammed into that massive interior. The establishment carried everything from clothes to mountain gear to enormous clay pots. In the front of the store, corralled by yellow tape and stacked one on top of the other, were Christmas trees. A variety of mishmash hung from the ceiling—piñatas, pots and pans, bird feeders. Blow-up pumpkins and turkeys and Christmas trees dangled, too, all of them carrying a layer of dust so thick that he could only assume they’d been batted away by shoppers for more than a few years.

In the middle of all that crap was a single, L-shaped counter. One half of it was piled high with papers and magazines. An enormous and ancient cash register dominated the other half. A massive man sat behind the register on a spindly stool, balancing himself with one foot planted firmly on the ground. His neck was as thick as Cooper’s thigh, and he wore a scraggly beard and a stained canvas hiking hat.

“Hello,” Cooper said.

The man responded with a slight lift of his double chins.

“I’m hoping you can give me some information,” Cooper said.

No answer.

Cooper glanced around the store, half expecting someone to appear to tell him the mountain man was deaf and dumb, but no one else seemed to be about except a man near the front of the store looking at snowshoes.

“I wanted to drive up and take a look at Cheyenne Canyon—”

“Can’t,” the man said. “Pass is closed.”

“Sometimes Pass?” Cooper asked.

The man gave that lift of his chins again. “That’s why it’s called Sometimes Pass. Only open sometimes.”

“But it hasn’t snowed in weeks,” Cooper said. “Wouldn’t it be open?”

“They close it every winter,” another voice said.

Cooper turned around to the man who had spoken. He’d moved away from the snowshoes and was standing in the aisle now. He was wearing loafers and jeans that rode so low on his hips there wasn’t much keeping them up. His clothing was expensive; he gave off a hipster vibe.

“The county doesn’t have enough money to plow that far out and it’s easier just to keep it closed. I know another way into the canyon if you’re interested.”

With his heather-green sweater and upturned shirt collar, this guy reminded Cooper of the guys who wandered around West Hollywood—not someone who knew a back way into Cheyenne Canyon. “Oh yeah?” he asked curiously.

“A couple of the logging roads are open. The Forest Service is taking advantage of the weather to clear out some fire fuel.”

Cooper glanced at the man behind the counter for confirmation.

“Don’t ask me,” the mountain man said. “Jackson here’s the one who knows.”

“I’m sorry, I should have introduced myself. I’m Jackson Crane,” the man said, extending his hand. “Sorry to butt in, but I couldn’t help overhearing. Tag hasn’t been up in the mountains in years.”

“Got all the gear you need, but I ain’t no guide,” the man agreed.

Cooper’s gaze shifted back to Jackson Crane. He was a head shorter than Cooper, and slender. “I’ll take you up,” he offered.

Cooper must have recoiled slightly because the man laughed. “That must sound strange, but I only mean to be helpful. Tag will vouch for me.”

“He won’t rob or murder you, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Tag said.

As if that was the first thing to pop into Cooper’s mind. “I wasn’t thinking that—”

“If you want to go, we should go,” Jackson said. “There’s a front coming through later and we’ll lose light.” He started for the front door, as if it had all been agreed.

What the hell? Cooper looked again at Tag, but Tag merely gazed back, unsurprised. Cooper couldn’t think of a time he’d ever gotten into a car with someone he didn’t know, especially a guy who dressed like a male fashion model. Not that he thought he had anything to fear
. . .
and he
did
want to see that canyon. So Cooper followed Jackson Crane out.

Jackson was standing next to a four-wheel-drive Jeep that had been jacked up on a big-wheel suspension. Another surprise—that was not the vehicle Cooper would have guessed Jackson would drive. Tag, maybe. But Jackson looked more like a Prius.

Jackson was busy clearing off the passenger seat when Cooper joined him. He glanced at Cooper and smiled a little before strolling around to the driver’s side and stepping up and into the vehicle.

Cooper hesitantly put himself in the passenger side. “Who are you again?” he asked as Jackson started the Jeep.

Jackson laughed. “I’m a lawyer here in town. Sort of. I mean, I
am
a lawyer, but there’s not much practice up here, other than the occasional divorce and a few wills. Oh, and Buck Ritchie’s ongoing defense for cattle rustling.” He looked at Cooper sidelong. “The dude can
not
stay out of trouble.”

“I know the type,” Cooper said. “I’m Cooper Jessup.”

“Welcome to Pine River, Cooper,” Jackson said, and gunned the Jeep, burning a little rubber on the main road out of town. “I hear you’re in town to see Emma Tyler.”

Startled, Cooper jerked his gaze to Jackson.

Jackson waved off his concern. “I had breakfast at the lodge this morning and Dani told me.”

“Can’t imagine why she’d have a reason to mention it,” Cooper said, taken aback.

“You’re right,” Jackson readily agreed. “Other than there’s not a lot going on right now, and she knows that I know Emma.” He glanced at Cooper as he shifted gears. “Chill. It’s a small town with nothing to do and not much other than Buck Ritchie to talk about, especially in the dead of winter.”

That didn’t exactly ease Cooper. He didn’t like the idea of the town talking about him and his reason for being here, and hoped the music he was suddenly hearing in his head wasn’t the theme song from
Deliverance.
“So,” he said, trying to muscle his thoughts back to familiar ground, “you know Emma?”

“I wouldn’t say I
know
her,” Jackson said. “But we are acquainted.”

Cooper imagined that everyone who came into contact with Emma could say the same thing: met her, didn’t know her. “She’s from here?” he asked curiously.

“Here? No, she’s from Southern California. Her dad lived here. That’s how I know her—I worked for Grant Tyler for a few months. Right after I came on board he got sick and wasn’t given much time. Talk about a mess,” he said with a shake of his head.

“Oh yeah?”

“His finances, his love life, his kids, all of it,” Jackson said. “He wasn’t much of a dad. He had these daughters scattered here and there, and they didn’t know about each other, and he sure as hell didn’t have much contact with any of them. Emma’s sister Libby tried to be a daughter to him, she really tried, but Grant wasn’t interested in being a dad. However
. . .
he did want to try and do right by them once he knew he didn’t have long. I mean, as much as Grant was able to do right.” Jackson chuckled at that. “Let’s just say virtue wasn’t Grant’s strong suit.”

“So he left them the ranch,” Cooper said, filling in the rest of the story.

“It was all he had left,” Jackson said. “Once his ex-wives and the government and his creditors got their cut, Homecoming Ranch was it. And he was upside down on the mortgage to boot.”

“In other words, not much of a legacy.”

“Not much of a legacy, in need of repair, and really complicated overall,” Jackson said. “I was the lucky one who got to deliver the news to the girls. I flew out to Los Angeles to talk to Emma. That’s where I met her.”