“There’s an old guy over there, Emma. Maybe you should just go and do him and get it over with,” Laura had snapped. She turned away, striding as quickly as she could without appearing to run, her long auburn curls bouncing above her hips, and Josh, looking confused, running after her like a dog.
That night, the candlesticks had ended up in Emma’s car. Two days later, Melissa believed Emma when she said she’d picked up the sticks with many other things and had forgotten them. Of course Melissa would believe that—Emma was a vice president, a trusted employee. But taking those candlesticks had frightened Emma so badly that she needed to get out of town, to go somewhere and get a grip.
It so happened that Libby had called her early in the fall, wanting her help to set up a race. It was as good a time as any to go, and with stupid Carl pissed and wanting back the thing she’d taken in exchange for the piece of her she’d left in Malibu, Emma had snapped. She’d quit her job, packed up, and taken off.
She never dreamed that stupid pig would send someone after her. What was his deal, anyway? That medal had been in a box under some folded laundry. It had obviously been there a long time, unnoticed, unimportant.
The sound of a woman calling out startled Emma out of her rumination. Across the street, the mother of the children had stepped out onto the porch and was calling to them to come home. The three of them answered like little birds, then gathered up their toys and scampered across the playground.
Emma glanced at her watch; it was five o’clock. She’d agreed to have dinner with Madeline and Libby tonight. She was glad for it; she could use the company. And she actually kind of liked them—even Madeline sometimes. Maybe Leo was right; maybe she should try and be a little warmer and fuzzier. That notion struck Emma as so ludicrous that she actually laughed as she stood and walked to her car.
EIGHT
Dani had directed Cooper to the Stake Out when he asked where he might get a drink to kill time before heading over to the Kendrick house.
Dani had warned him that the restaurant was a bit of a meat market, but that appeared to be an understatement when Cooper walked through the swinging, saloon-type doors and into a loud din. It was only a little past five, but the bar was already packed with men in suits, or men in boots and flannel, and women in tight-fighting sweaters and jeans.
Cooper scanned the décor—elk heads, pine plank walls. Through the windows at the back of the restaurant, he could see a stunning view of Pine River, and a scattering of empty tables outside for use at a more agreeable time of year. The setting was pretty, but there was something about this place that made it feel cheap. Maybe it was the musty smell and plastic where wood should have been, or the linoleum where tile should have been.
Cooper walked up to the bar and ordered a bourbon neat. He paid for the drink, brought it to his lips—and noticed Emma sitting on a stool at the far end of the bar, sandwiched between a man who looked as if he’d just come down from the mountain and an elderly couple. Her expressionless gaze was fixed on him.
What was she doing here? He hated to think it, but he’d heard enough about her to believe she was here to pick up someone. He smiled a little sourly and lifted his drink.
Emma looked away.
Oh, no, Miss Tyler, you won’t get off that easy, not this time.
Cooper started around the bar, silently daring her to avoid him. Emma visibly sighed, averted her eyes, and flipped her hair over her shoulder. Silky hair, the color of new corn, hair that shimmered in the low light. When Cooper reached her, he wedged himself in between her and the elderly woman beside her.
Emma stared straight ahead and said, “You’re worse than a mosquito. I keep swatting you away, and you keep coming back to bite me.”
“You didn’t really believe you’d get rid of me with a few swats, did you?”
“No. But I definitely wished it.”
Cooper propped his elbow on the bar, bending his head a little to see her profile. “What are you doing in here?” he asked. “You don’t need to do this, you know.”
She blinked, then slowly turned her face to him. “Don’t need to do what?”
“You know . . . find company,” he said.
She smiled as if that amused her and turned her body fully toward him. “Do you honestly think someone like me,” she said, gesturing to her body, “would need to come to a bar like this to find company?”
When she put it like that, the answer was a resounding no. Emma was the sort of woman who could have who she wanted, where she wanted, when she wanted.
“It’s none of your business, but I’m meeting someone. What do you want, Cooper?”
He was feeling a little stung for having stupidly assumed the reason why she was sitting here alone. “I came for a drink. But when I saw you here, I thought, no time like the present. We have some unfinished business.”
She arched a brow. “No, it’s definitely finished,” she said casually, but she wrapped her hand tightly around her glass, giving her tension away.
“Let me buy you a drink and we’ll talk about it.” Cooper lifted his hand to get the bartender’s attention.
The Perfect Homecoming (Pine River #3)
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