I’m not usually one for such displays. But maybe it’s because I’ve never had anyone who made me want to break the rules. Until now.
I give in and kiss him, wrapping my arms around him while melting into him, our lips pressed together, rivaling any kiss I’ve ever read about in a romance novel.
I’m usually prepared for life to hit me sideways with surprises, but I can’t say that I saw this coming with Cooper. He holds his emotional cards close to his chest. I can respect that because I do, too.
Neither of us was caught up in nonsense that could throw us off track, but over the past two days . . . two days . . . How has it only been two days? It’s felt like so much more, from holding hands in the rain to inviting him to stay with me even though I didn’t know his last name.
Cooper Haywood has my mind going haywire. I giggle to myself over my ridiculousness. Disregarding my usual more serious stance, it feels good to just have fun with someone, to laugh, and I will never stop craving his kisses.
I have a feeling I’m not the first girl to go a little nutty over him. We stand, and even though I’m tempted to swoon just to kiss him all over again, the shattering of a glass has me jumping instead.
Lou is out of his seat and scrambling to pick up the broken pieces of his coffee cup. I glance at Cooper, wishing I could stay with him a minute longer. Reading my conflict, he nods. “Go. I understand.”
“Don’t touch the glass, Lou. I’ll get a broom.” I’m in and out of the back and start sweeping the wet pieces into the dustpan.
“Sorry, Story. I was rearranging my laptop.”
“It’s okay. No worries. I’ll be quick to clean it up and get you another cup. I know you’re stressed, so keep working. Don’t mind me.” Squatting down, I try to get more of the liquid near the base of the table, but I bend too far and lose my balance. Porcelain shards pierce my knee through my jeans and cause me to fall back in pain.
A knife slicing through my skin hits like a tidal wave dragging me under the surface of memories I’ve tried to bury. An open wound the size of a canyon scores my chest. Images from a night I’ve tried hard to forget come back like relics of a past, too scarring for me to avoid revisiting.
The fear.
The agony.
The helplessness.
“Story.”
The voice is firm but soothing as he calls to me, but I struggle to find purchase in it. “Story. It’s me. Cooper.”
Unbreaking in his insistence when he summons me back to him, I open my eyes to sink into the comfort of his arms and green-eyed gaze. A gentle smile lifts the corners of his lips, and he says, “Hey, babe.”
“Hi,” I reply, my breath still coming heavy.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m great.” Trying for a smile, I attempt to act natural. “How are you?”
His smile grows. “I’m doing all right. How about we get you up, and I can take a look at your knees?”
Bending to see my knees, I ask, “What’s wrong with my knees?” Then I realize I’m on the floor of the shop, and everyone is staring at me. “Oh, um . . .” My heart starts beating erratically again, and I scurry from Cooper’s arms. “I need to get . . . yeah.” Freeing myself, I run into the back room, leaving the door to sway behind me.
I plant my hands on the cold steel of the counter and close my eyes, taking deep breaths. “One. Two. Three—”
“Story?” Cooper asks barely above the breeze of the swinging door. His tone is still so even that my beating heart steadies from the sound of it and from him being close again. I push that calm away because I have to do this on my own.
“Give me a sec, okay?” When I don’t hear the door squeal against the hinges, I look back to find him standing there. I turn around abruptly and grip the counter. I’m unsure what to say since I can see how much I’ve worried him.
A line creases between his brows, and the smile from before has been wiped clean. I watch as he slowly slides his hands into his pockets, and I’m starting to realize there’s a pattern when he does that unrelated to the weather. I hate that I’ve caused any uncertainty when it comes to us.
I look down at his feet. He stands so securely that I try to convince myself I’m reading too much into the rest of his body language. “I . . .” I start and stop, not sure where to go with this. “We’re new, if we’re even a we,” I ramble, peeking up through fallen bangs over my eyes, “and I hate that you’ve seen something that might make you leave—”
“I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here, Story. Right here with you.” He is, too. When he doesn’t make a move to leave, I start to wonder how I feel about it and how he feels about me.
Too many thoughts cloud my mind to think rationally through the other trauma. “You don’t have to be so nice about what just happened.”
“What just happened?”
I’m usually most vulnerable when I’m trying to fall asleep at night. Being at work changes things. I stare at him, annoyance rising in my chest from the question. I usually have time to work through these little attacks, but I’ve never had one at work before. With customers waiting and Cooper worried, I don’t have the benefit of time on my side.
Not reading the room or choosing to ignore it, Cooper waits for an answer. “It’s nothing.” My temper is short, and my words clipped. I hate myself for being this way with him.
“Nothing, huh?” The peace I heard in his tone before remains despite the sting of my response.
Pointing at my legs, he says, “We should probably get your jeans off and clean up your knees.”
I had forgotten about that pain until the mention of that again. I look down and see little spots of blood penetrating the denim. “I don’t have anyone to cover the front.”
“I’ll cover it for you.” He sets his hand against the door. “You’ll take care of yourself, right?”
I nod. “Thanks.”
His chin dips once before he pushes through the door.
My heart still beats heavy in my chest, but it’s not racing anymore. Thanks to Cooper. Grabbing the first-aid kit from the top shelf, I head into the office. I undo my jeans and push them down past the scar on my thigh that never sees daylight and lower past my knees. I didn’t even realize the glass cut me, but it got me good.
Nothing that time won’t heal. That’s a lesson I’ve learned well.
I clean myself up and then return the kit to the shelf. Taking a moment to finish collecting myself, I check my appearance in a mirror in the office, lick my lips before they get chapped, and try to fix the nest that my hair is the best I can. It’s pointless, so I tighten the apron strap around my waist and return to the front.
I stop, covering my mouth with my hand to keep from laughing. Cooper’s standing behind the counter with a muffin in his hand. Speaking to a girl, he says, “Trust me, it’s better than the croissant.”
“I wanted the chocolate croissant,” she insists, whining, reminding me of Veruca Salt in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. I expect her to stamp her foot for emphasis. She doesn’t, fortunately.
Cooper grins. “This blueberry muffin won’t disappoint. I promise.”
She stammers and then sighs, batting her eyelashes. I get it, girl. I totally get it. “Fine, blueberry it is. How much?”
Lou stands. “I don’t think you should be behind the counter.”
Rushing forward, I say, “It’s okay, Lou. Thanks.” I go to the register. Lou hesitates and then returns to his table. I eye the to-go cup on the counter in front of her. “Is that coffee or tea?”
“Americano and a muffin,” Cooper replies.
My eyebrows rise in surprise. “I’m impressed.” His talents extend further than his coffee skills.
There’s no amusement in his eyes, but he smiles, putting on a front like there is. “People always underestimate me.”
His words sink in, but it’s the sadness clouding his usually bright eyes that have me feeling guilty as charged. I want to take it away while making sure his happiness returns.
Two days.
Impossible.