Her security cameras showed the attack, but revealed only two very large men wearing ski masks.
Coop closed his eyes. For too long he’d existed in a state of numbness, functioning but unable to feel anything real.
Now he felt Phoenix’s pain and fear, and so much more. It brought back his own pain—and the rage.
But at the same time, it gave him a purpose.
He couldn’t help his wife, but he could help Phoenix.
Not easy to do when she rarely got comfortable with men.
From what he could glean off social media, she’d gone to a hotel after the attack and stayed there, surrounded by people—protected—until she’d moved to Cooper’s Charm. Her Facebook page, once filled with fun memes, silly videos, and comments from family and friends, had gone silent except for things others had posted—encouragement, words of strength and the occasional note about missing her.
Eventually, despite her brief, undoubtedly obligatory replies, the posts from others had waned, too.
At first he’d wondered about the timeline being public instead of private. But she’d admitted to being tech-challenged, and he imagined she’d had other things on her mind than social media.
As if she’d forgotten all about it, it had taken months before she’d posted on her wall again, and then she’d shared a photo of herself, making a goofy face while holding a cup of steaming coffee. The text had read: Everyone relax, I’m still here.
Hundreds of replies poured in. Phoenix Rose had many people who cared about her, yet she’d moved two hours away to the park.
It didn’t take a genius to realize she wanted to reclaim her life, and moving to his resort was the first big step. He hoped she found what she needed, but as he’d discovered, you couldn’t be alone at a crowded resort, yet you could still be lonely.
The knock at the door drew him out of his thoughts. He closed the laptop and crossed the kitchen to the door, seeing through the glass pane that Phoenix stood there.
A new sensation broke through the gloom. Damned if it didn’t feel like anticipation.
Shirtless and barefoot, dressed in only his jeans, Coop opened the door with a barely banked smile of welcome. “Good morning, Ms. Rose.”
Her startled gaze went over his body first, then locked desperately to his face. She hastily straightened her already-straight glasses. “Mr. Cochran. I’m sorry to bother you, but I have a problem.”
Maybe he should have pulled on a shirt...the hell he would. He was in his own home and if she planned to stick around, she’d have to get comfortable with him. Throughout the summer, most people dressed down, with women in halters and shorts or bikinis, and men more shirtless than not. People were in and out of the water all day, from sunup to sundown.
Maybe if he hadn’t just been thinking about her and all she’d been through, he would have handled things differently. Instead, he corrected her for the tenth time, saying, “You know, everyone else calls me Coop.” He couldn’t very well call her by her first name if she insisted on boss/employee formality. Not that there was much about the resort that anyone could label as “formal.” It was all about fun, relaxation and getting away.
She stared up at him.
“Try it,” he urged. “I promise it won’t hurt.”
2
After a few breathless seconds, Phoenix’s gaze flickered away. Ignoring his request—hell, pretending he hadn’t even said it—she explained, “The mower won’t start. I tried to find Daron, but apparently he’s off today.”
Coop stifled a growl of frustration. She needed time, not pressure, so he concentrated on the reason she’d come to see him. If he couldn’t get her to relax, he could at least be helpful.
Daron Hardy was the twenty-five-year-old handyman extraordinaire who worked for the park. He could fix anything, which made him valuable, but he was also a huge player. Coop had no doubt that Phoenix had already caught Daron’s eye.
The good thing about Daron, though, besides his skill at repairs, was that he could be trusted, and he was a gentleman at heart. Daron would never deliberately make a woman uncomfortable. He didn’t hear it very often, but he understood the word no.
Coop stepped into his kitchen, saying, “Come on in.”
“I...” She hesitated at the door, then looked behind herself as if checking for avenues of escape.
Pretending he didn’t see her uneasiness, Coop said, “I’ll have to give him a call. He stayed out last night but said he’d be back sometime this morning. Coffee?”
She glanced at the pot with the same intensity she’d given his chest. Coop wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing.
Assuming he’d convince her, he got down another mug, filled it, set it on the table and pulled out a chair—all without looking directly at Phoenix again. He reached for the phone near his laptop and dialed up Daron, then leaned back on the counter.
Cautiously, leaving the door open behind her, Phoenix entered the kitchen and eased into the chair. She wrapped both hands around the mug as if chilled, which was impossible given the warm morning. While Coop waited for Daron to answer, she sipped the hot coffee.
The phone stopped ringing.
“Shh, hang on,” Coop heard in a whisper, and then, in a normal tone, “Hello?”
It didn’t surprise Coop to hear a woman giggling in the background. Daron was an active, healthy young man. Working at the park shouldn’t hinder a social life. Daron seemed to have found the right balance.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Coop said.
“No problem, boss. ’Sup?”
Watching Phoenix, seeing how she avoided looking at him, Coop briefly explained the issue.
“Damn,” Daron said. “That thing’s been on life support for a while, but it was purring just fine after the last time I tweaked it.”
“It’s probably past time for me to—” Coop heard the woman say something else.
Daron started to shush her, ended up laughing, and said quickly into the phone, “Give me twenty minutes or so and I’ll head back.”
“You don’t have to rush.”
“See ya soon, Coop.” The call disconnected.
Easily imagining why Daron had left so quickly, Coop looked at the phone, shook his head in amusement and then put it back on the desk.
Not bothering to hide his amusement, he sat opposite Phoenix. “He should be back in another hour...or two.”
“He didn’t say for sure?”
“He’s a little preoccupied with a date.”
“Oh.” Smiling, she looked up—then at his shoulders and chest—and quickly tucked back a tendril of hair. “I forgot about his date.”
“He told you about it?”
“Daron mentions all his dates.” She sent him a crooked grin. “He’s hilarious sometimes.”
As long as she was laughing at Daron, Coop figured he had nothing to worry about. “That’s probably not how most women describe him.”
“True.” She chuckled. “He doesn’t lack female attention, that’s for sure.”
“But you see him differently?”
She sipped her coffee. “He’s young.”
Coop lifted his brows. “He’s twenty-five, the same age as you.”
“Ah, but my sister says I’m an old soul.” She wrinkled her nose. “And that’s nicer than when she calls me a stick in the mud.”
Cooper grinned. “We can’t all be the life of the party.”
“Right? That’s what I tell her.” She traced a finger around the top rim of the mug. “I hate that I’m interrupting Daron’s plans.”
“He was due back soon anyway.” Coop studied her. Those small smiles of hers packed a hell of a wallop. “I assume it’s that ancient rider that won’t start?” They had two push mowers, too, but they weren’t for the big areas.
“Yes.”
To keep her around a little longer, he asked, “Was it acting up yesterday?”
“Pretty much always. I don’t have Daron’s talent, but I can usually get it to start with a little tinkering. This time—nothing.”
“Dead battery, maybe?”
She shook her head. “I checked that.” With a lot of concentration, she looked at him again, her gaze fixed only on his face. “Mr. Cochran—”
“Coop.”