The Perfect Homecoming (Pine River #3)

“Of . . . ?”


Laura laughed. “Of me, silly,” she said, as if that should be obvious to him. “It’s been a problem all our lives. When we were kids, it was manageable, but when we grew up, and boys came into the picture, she got really possessive and really weird.” She wrinkled her nose.

Why was she telling him this? She was Emma’s sister—she ought to be defending Emma, not piling on.

“I mean, between you and me? Her own family has always been a lot more comfortable around me rather than her.” She smiled a little.

Cooper was appalled that Laura would casually toss that observation out there, given what had happened between her and Emma. Not to mention Emma’s father and her.

Laura smiled curiously at his study of her. “What?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard just how comfortable some of her family has been around you.”

Laura’s smug smile faded. She blinked back her surprise. But she didn’t deny it. No, Laura Franklin slowly smiled again, as if sleeping with Emma’s father was amusing somehow. Her smile was a come-hither smile, too, one meant to seduce. “No one listens to Emma,” she said silkily. “But forget her, because you know what? You’re cute, Cooper Jessup.”

He gave her a dark look, annoyed that she thought he would fall for that.

“No, really cute,” she said, turning to face him, her shoulder against the wall. “How come you’re not married?” She touched the button of his shirt—the same buttons Emma had touched—and began a slow finger walk up his chest. “You could have anyone in LA if you wanted. You can’t be so hard up for company that you’d want my sister.”

And Emma thought she was the despicable one.

Laura laughed. “Don’t look at me like that. Everyone knows how Emma is. I can’t help it if her own flesh and blood found her difficult to be around, can I?”

Cooper reached up and pushed Laura’s hand from his chest. “Good night, Laura.”

“Hey, don’t go away mad,” she said, reaching for his arm. “I’m not going to tell Emma. Not yet, anyway.”

What the hell was wrong with this woman? “Tell her what?”

Laura shrugged. “That we sort of hooked up,” she said, and her smile turned cold.

Laura was a bitch. “We’re not hooking up. Nowhere close,” he said.

“Whatever you say.”

He could tell by the slight sneer on her face that she would do exactly what she threatened. She would tell Emma that she’d met him at this party, that they’d connected. She would imply they’d slept together, and on some level, that was more shocking than anything Emma had done. “Why would you do something like that?”

“Why does Emma keep telling everyone I had an affair with Grant?” she shot back. “It wasn’t my fault, you know. I was only eighteen. Besides that, we didn’t do anything to her. What, he wasn’t supposed to live his life because she didn’t like it?”

“Wow,” Cooper said. “Are you a sociopath? Do you pack your heart in ice every night? I mean, you do realize you’re talking shit about your sister, right?”

“Step sister,” Laura snapped, and walked away from him.

Cooper stood a moment, unable to move. No wonder Emma’s life had spiraled out of control. Her family was as treacherous as anything she could possibly encounter in the rest of the world.

Eventually, Cooper went outside, away from Laura and her betrayal. Which, in the grand scheme of Hollywood, wouldn’t even rank on the list of great family betrayals. It made him a little nauseous.

An hour later, Cooper was home at his little house in the Hollywood Hills. He made himself a sandwich and a drink and sat on his terrace overlooking the glittering lights below. His thoughts were with a beautiful blond woman with enough emotional baggage to fill a dump truck.

He told himself it was best he’d left when he did. That it was mountain air that had him thinking there could be more to the story of Emma and Cooper than a chance encounter at a bat mitzvah, or a few days in Colorado.

When he finished his sandwich and drink, Cooper decided he was truly as tired as he felt. He thought he’d have a shower and get a good night’s sleep without any beavers looking at him.

Cooper wearily turned on the shower and as the water warmed, he emptied the pockets of his jeans onto his dresser. A few coins, his wallet, his phone. He looked at the little pile in passing, but halfway to the bathroom, he paused. He walked back and studied the contents of his pocket. Something was missing, he thought, although he couldn’t think what at first. His wallet was there. His phone. A few bills and some change.