Now that she’s gone, I can open my heart up again to my home.
I stop my rental car, place it in park, and start to open the door, when movement on the west lawn catches my eye. A man on a lawnmower is cutting long strips of grass on the diagonal. I get out of the car, shut the door, and peer harder through my sunglasses. The man is wearing a baseball cap and is too far away to see any details, but I’d recognize the height and brawn of that body anywhere, not to mention the posture infused with confidence bordering on cockiness as he sits atop his John Deere.
Cooper Mayfield.
I try to ignore the fluttering in my stomach, pretty damn sure its indigestion at the sight of him and nothing else. Our breakup caused a lot of emotional upheaval between the two of us, and while ultimately we parted on friendly terms, we both went our own ways and didn’t look back. I’m not sure why Coop never made any effort to keep in contact with me, but I know I didn’t stay in touch because it was too painful. I didn’t want to be reminded of the wonderful guy I’d left behind on a roll of the dice for my new career.
Since we broke up, I’ve only seen him once, and that was at my grandmother’s funeral, but I didn’t talk to him. I was there for the service out of a sense of duty only and I made a hasty exit back to my car and off to Atlanta to catch the next flight back to LA. At that point, Newberry was as much of a stranger to me as my grandmother had always been, and I felt no affinity for it. I was anxious to leave and get back to the familiarity of Hollywood, which wasn’t always comfortable for me, but at least it I knew what to expect.
I knew Coop was going into the family landscaping business, and since they’ve always maintained our property, it’s no real surprise to see him here now.
As if he senses my stare, his head turns toward me slightly, and I can see the way his body stiffens that he recognizes me as well. I can almost hear the sigh coming from him as he stops the mower, disengages the blade, and then turns it off. He hops down and, when his work-booted feet hit the grass, he takes off his cap briefly to wipe his forehead with the long sleeve of his shirt before putting it back on. It always amazed me how yard crews would wear long-sleeve shirts even on boiling hot summer days to protect their skin. Even so, Coop never had pale arms. He spent plenty of time outdoors, particularly at the beach, working on a great tan.
Coop in board shorts. At the beach. An absolute panty dropper.
Or at least I seem to remember.
As he gets closer, I feel my heart rate start to pick up and my palms begin to sweat. Because I’m wearing sunglasses and I can get away with it, I check him out as he nears. Age seems only to have enhanced his handsomeness. His body has filled out with more muscle and he carries himself with a certain swagger he didn’t have when we were eighteen. Even with his ball cap pulled down, I still get sucked into those aqua blue eyes that seemed to hypnotize me. His hair is a little longer and it curls out from under his baseball cap. His jaw is stubbled as dark as his nearly black hair, and even though he’s only thirty-two, I can even see a few silver hairs glinting in the sun just above his ears. His father has lovely silver at his temples, and I know when that comes in on Coop, he’s going to go from gorgeous to devastatingly beautiful.
Because he’s not wearing sunglasses, I don’t miss Coop’s gaze as he lets it wander down and then up my body. His jaw hardens as he takes in my designer linen pants in lavender with a sleeveless silk blouse in a contemporary print of orange, lavender, and buttercup yellow splotches, all of which is set off by a pair of cream-colored Stuart Weitzman pumps. I reek money and sophistication, and not that it ever bothered Coop back when we were younger, I think it’s a pointed reminder of why we broke up.
“What are you doing here?” he asks gruffly as he comes to a stop in front of me. There is no welcome to his tone and I could be a virtual stranger off the street to him. Let’s face it…we spent two wonderful years together and experienced our first love, and then we broke up and haven’t talked to each other in fourteen years. We’re strangers actually.
“Um…I…well, I came to stay for a bit,” I stammer, because I get a little sidetracked by those blue eyes that are just north of frosty at this moment.
“For how long?” he says curtly.
“I don’t know,” I tell him honestly, a little put off by his tone. “I’m taking an impromptu vacation.”
“And you chose Newberry for that?” he asks suspiciously. “Isn’t that a little dull when you could be jetting off to Paris or something?”
My hackles immediately rise, because I’ve had just about enough of people attacking me lately and that is so untrue, but he wouldn’t know what I like to do anymore. “My vacation plans aren’t any of your business.”
“That’s true,” he says as he leans in toward me. He smells of hardworking man and sweet grass, and that really shouldn’t smell that good to me, but it does. I blink my eyes hard as he adds, “But if you’re staying here in my home, it is my business how long you’re staying.”
I blink again.
Then again.
“Excuse me?” I ask, and then blink again. “Your home?”
I actually turn my head to look at Goodnight House to make sure I didn’t imagine it being there, and then turn back to look at Coop. He grins like a Cheshire cat. “Yeah…my house.”
“This is my house,” I say, although it’s without confidence. He has me rattled.
“Yes, and it’s my house too,” he returns as his eyes glitter with amusement. “And I’m guessing you really didn’t look too hard at your grandmother’s will, or you’d know that.”
“No way,” I say adamantly as I shake my head, my dark brown hair flying. “There’s no way she would have given you part of Goodnight House. It’s a family home and you’re not family.”
“Closer to her than you were,” he says pointedly, and I admit…it stings. I have no clue what, if any, relationship Coop had with her, but I had absolutely nothing to do with her, and she didn’t want anything to do with me.
Coop continues to explain. “And she gave me a joint life estate along with you. For the remainder of my life, I can live here. At my death, it goes to you.”
“You’re lying,” I grit out as a headache starts to brew right between my eyes.
“I’m not,” he says smugly, then nods his head toward my rental car. “You can jump in that car and drive to Edward Pearce’s office. He administered Valeria’s estate after she died. I’m sure he sent you the documents.”
I vaguely recall getting mail from him, as Colleen had brought it to my attention. I knew I’d inherited from her, and I just instructed Colleen to make sure the taxes were always paid and the property maintained. Past that, I didn’t think about Goodnight House too much.