Champion (Studs in Spurs) (9 page)

“I suppose I’d say I’d like to see that for myself. And if it’s true, we can take a trip to the Laundromat in town. That might be better anyway. They have those nice big machines so all your bedding will fit inside one and we’ll do your clothes in another.”

Cooper sighed like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, rather than one persistent and moderately annoying woman in his kitchen. “Fine. It’s not broken.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Nothing worse than a broken washing machine. I’ve lived through that situation myself once or twice.” Hiding her smile, she lifted a spoon of food to her mouth.

As they sat in silence, she ran through her schedule in her head and made a plan to help Cooper continue on the right path she’d set him on. She’d have to run to the grocery store for supplies on her way home, but she’d have time to whip up a quick lasagna with the homemade sauce she had leftover in the fridge. Tomorrow, she could drop that off for Cooper.

No man, no matter how stubborn, could say no to homemade lasagna. That would keep him fed for a little bit. A full belly always did make things seem better. He thought getting the dishes done would make her happy and get her off his back? Poor Cooper. Little did he know that was only the beginning.

Stubborn, obstinate, contrary—he could try and scare her away all he wanted, but she wouldn’t give up that easily. He had no idea what he was up against.

Chapter Eight

Cooper stared into the bathroom mirror and shook his head at the reflection of his face covered in thick white foam.

He’d gotten into the habit of shaving so seldom over the past few years that the scruff on his chin was more often than not the beginnings of a scraggly beard. Yet here he was shaving. Again. Two days in a row.

Why? Because his gut instinct told him he’d be seeing Hannah Anderson again real soon. Because even ten years later, just seeing her twisted him inside out. Made him want things he wasn’t meant to have—not ten years ago when he’d first met her and certainly not now.

There was a slim chance he could have straightened himself out back then. Maybe. Walked the straight and narrow. Quit drinking. Quit women. Tried to be the kind of man she and the kid needed.

Then, he’d been at the top of his game. His confidence had been as high as the balance in his bank account. Now? No. Now was way too late. Yet knowing that, when she showed up at his door yesterday, he’d let her in.

In his defense, she’d barreled over him like a bull charging out of the chute. He hadn’t really had much choice in the matter. Just like he didn’t have a choice about how he felt. How it affected him having her show up after all these years. How she made him want her and hate himself for even considering it. Hell, hate her too, for looking at him like she did—like he could have her then and there no matter what he said or did. No matter how crappy his life was or his place looked.

Damned woman. Blind to reality and looking to get hurt, she was. As well as nosy, intrusive, domineering…and sweet and kind and caring.

He jumped when the blade nicked his chin and watched the red spot blossom as the blood spread into the stark white of the shaving cream.

“Shit.” He’d cut himself yesterday and he’d somehow managed to do it again today.

That’s what he got for shaving. Served him right. It was just one more reminder that he had no business trying to please this woman because she shouldn’t be there in the first place. He certainly shouldn’t be worrying whether or not he looked decent when she arrived.

Cooper ran a hand through his overly long hair, thinking he needed to go and get it cut. It had been a good six months, probably much longer, since he’d bothered going to the barbershop. He hadn’t given a shit about his appearance in a very long time. He shouldn’t be worrying about it today. But because Hannah could possibly show up, he’d showered, shaved and put on his only pair of jeans that didn’t have a hole in them.

It was pretty crazy. She might not even show. Even so, once he’d finished butchering his face, he would go pull a shirt out of the neat stack on his dresser because the damn woman had folded his frigging laundry.

That was after she’d done the dishes and picked up the living room. She’d made up his bed with clean sheets too, even though he’d told her he didn’t sleep in it. He hadn’t spent a night in his bedroom for years. Hell, he was barely able to sleep at all, even on the sofa. Mostly he just drank until he passed out. It was the only way he got any rest.

Nope. Hannah hadn’t listened to him—no surprise there—so now he had fresh sheets on a bed he’d likely never sleep in again. She’d even made him vacuum the carpet while she washed the kitchen floor.

Hopefully, he’d get over this unsatisfied need for her now that she was behaving like a nagging wife. Hell, yesterday she’d acted more like she was trying to be his mother the way she’d fed him and cleaned up after him.

That still hadn’t squashed his physical need for Hannah’s sweet body. Sad but true, he’d been up half the night thinking about her. That shit was going to have to end. A man like him was no good for her ten years ago and he was no good for her now.

Maybe if he kept repeating that to himself—to her too—one or both of them would remember it. As it stood, he was afraid neither of them did when they were anywhere near each other.

After blotting the blood on his chin with some toilet paper, he went back to shaving in case she showed up. If she did, it would have to be after her shift at the hospital. Crazy bastard that he was, Cooper still remembered her usual hours from when she used to drop off her son for lessons.

That realization, that he’d been obsessed with this woman for a decade, made him itch to reach for a drink. Cooper realized how much he needed one right now, not just as a mental crutch, but physically. He couldn’t ignore the tremor in his hand. He wouldn’t let himself think the word withdrawal, but it hung hauntingly on the edge of his consciousness.

He stuck his head out the bathroom doorway and glanced at the clock that sat on the nightstand next to the neatly made bed he hadn’t slept in last night. It was just past lunchtime. He still had a couple of hours before she came…if she came.

Instead of pouring a shot or grabbing a beer to take the edge off like he normally would have, he focused on the razor in his hand. Swipe by swipe, the blade cut a slow but steady path across his face until he was done. He wiped off any remnants of shaving cream with his newly laundered towel and then turned toward the bedroom.

Grabbing a shirt, he finished getting dressed and made his plan for the day. Not that it was much of a plan. It amounted to him sitting outside on the front porch and waiting for a woman he shouldn’t see, who might not come anyway.

After taking one last look at himself, this time in the bedroom mirror, he decided he was as presentable and ready as he was going to get—though ready for what, he didn’t know.

Shaking his head at his own foolishness, he made his way down the hall and to the living room. He paused on his way past the doorway to the kitchen. Yesterday, hell, any other day, he would have gone inside and grabbed a cold one from the fridge. Today, he didn’t.

Refusing to think about the implications of that any further, he moved out onto the front porch. The same chairs that had been there for years still sat on the worn floorboards. Both the chairs and the floor looked a lot worse for wear, but he supposed he did too after all these years.

He eased his body, stiff and sore from two decades of abuse in the arena, into one of the old chairs. The wood creaked beneath his weight. It would serve him right if the thing collapsed and he ended up sprawled flat on his ass on the floor.

It was painfully obvious that he’d let things go to shit. His house. The land. Himself. He glanced around him, seeing things in stark reality for probably the first time in years. He’d gotten real good at turning a blind eye, but today, he took a closer look. Today, he saw things as Hannah would have seen them when she’d visited yesterday. As Skeeter had seen them last week before he’d gone home so upset at the state of Cooper’s life he’d gone and involved his mother.

He reached out and flicked at a loose piece of paint on the doorframe with his fingernail. With hardly any effort on his part, a long strip peeled off, leaving raw wood behind it. He picked at another spot with the same results. In a few minutes, there was a pile of chips on the floor and a good-sized section of the doorframe was bare.

A little work and the whole thing would be clean and ready for a fresh coat.

There used to be some cans of leftover paint in the barn. He’d have to look and see if any of them were still good or if they’d dried up over the years.

Cooper stood and headed for the building he rarely went to since selling the stock. There should be a metal scraper in there too. Maybe even a wire brush or some sandpaper. While he waited for Hannah to show—or not show—he might as well keep himself busy.

Dust and the cobwebs greeted him when he flipped the switch inside the door that controlled the lights in the main part of the barn. Only one light bulb out of three lit. The rest had burnt out, but without any animals around the place, there’d been no need to replace the bulbs. One was all he needed to navigate to the storage closet. After opening the door, he pulled the string hanging from the fixture inside. The single bulb on the ceiling of the small closet illuminated the shelving on the sidewall.

Keeping an ear out for any sounds of a car outside, something he hadn’t done for years since company hadn’t been welcome for at least that long, Cooper started his search. He dug through tools in a box on the shelf and found the scraper he needed. There was a flat-head screwdriver, as well. That he used to pry open a dusty can of white paint. The contents looked a little thick from age, but it would be fine with a good stir. He replaced the lid and grabbed a hammer to pound it tight.

He pawed deeper into the closet, through things he hadn’t had need for in a long while. He found a stir stick and a brush, both dating to the last time he’d painted, he guessed. No matter if they weren’t new. They’d work for his purposes and save him the time and money of driving to town for new. He gathered his finds and headed outside.

Squinting through the glare of the sun, Cooper glanced at the drive. No car had pulled in while he’d been busy. He had time to get started with his project. After shutting off the light and securing the barn door, he carried his supplies back to the front porch. On his way up the stairs, he realized the railing and the posts needed painting as well. Not to mention the broken step needed fixing.

Hell, the wood was so old the whole staircase should probably be replaced.

One thing at a time. He put down the paint and other things he’d carried. Gripping the scraper in one hand, he set to work.

Less than an hour later, the front doorframe was almost bare and nearly ready for painting. That’s when he heard the crunch of car tires on gravel. He turned as Hannah’s car pulled into the driveway.

Yup, his guess had been correct. He gripped the scraper a bit tighter, happy to have an excuse to be standing outside other than that he’d been waiting for her.

The work had distracted him, but yeah, beneath it all, the truth was he had been waiting and hoping she’d show. He forced himself to look casual as she cut the engine and stepped out of the car she’d parked not far from the porch where he stood.

She stared at the doorway and took in the job that had occupied him. “Wow. You’ve done a lot of work there.”

He glanced at the wooden frame. “Nah, it didn’t take all that long. Though, these columns and the rail will likely take the better part of a day.”

“It looks good.” A smile bowed her lips. She tipped her head toward the car. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you, but I wanted to drop something off.”

That sounded too much like she was leaving after she’d only just arrived. Cooper didn’t know what the thing was that she was dropping off, but as she moved to the passenger side of the car, he scrambled for a way to make her stay without appearing as if that was what he was doing.

“No worries. I’m about ready to take a little break anyway. If you wanted to come in…sit and have something cold to drink.”

With the passenger door open and Hannah bending over to get whatever she’d brought with her off the floor of the car, all Cooper could see was her ass. It stuck out temptingly, covered by a denim skirt short enough to lead his eyes to her bare legs and sandals. He swallowed hard. She must have gone home after work to change out of her work clothes.

As rude as it was to stare, and at her ass no less, Cooper noticed he didn’t feel bad enough about it to avert his eyes. Christ, he was a pig. Finally, he wrestled his focus away from the temptation, but only because she straightened up and his gaze was drawn to the aluminum foil-covered dish in her hand.

“What the devil have you got?” He hopped down off the steps and moved to reach for the oversized dish she held.

“It’s not heavy.”

“Well, it looks heavy. And you still haven’t told me what it is.” He eyed the mysterious casserole dish and grabbed it with both hands.

She finally let him take it. “It’s homemade lasagna. I was making one for home and I bought far too many ingredients, so I figured I could just as easily make an extra one. But with Skeeter away, it’s way too much food for me alone, so I thought I’d bring it over for you.”

“Mmm, hmm.” He didn’t believe that long cock-and-bull story of hers for a moment.

Hannah had bought too much on purpose, if she had been making lasagna for herself at all and hadn’t cooked it just for him. She was trying to feed him again.

What was it with her and food? Of all the physical needs he had, eating was low on the list, especially when he was around her.

Her obsession must come from being a mother. Well, Cooper wasn’t her son. Far from it. His thoughts about this woman were in no way how a man would think of a maternal figure in his life. They never had been. Likely, they never would be.

“Come on in.” He tipped his head toward the house. “I’ll put this monster inside.”

Hannah cringed. “I know. It is kind of big, but it freezes real well. You can leave half in the fridge to eat now and freeze the rest for later.”

Given the size of this thing, he could feed a football team, so he wasn’t sure how she thought he’d be able to eat half all by himself, even if he did plan to freeze the rest. He’d need help…and maybe that was her plan. What if Hannah didn’t want him to eat alone? What if her hope was that he’d ask her to join him?

Cooper considered the idea and decided he could deal with that. Yesterday had been a shock, totally out of the blue. But now that he’d wrapped his head around it, and now that his kitchen was clean and he didn’t have to feel like a slob in front of this woman, he could handle spending a little time with her. It might be nice to hear about how Skeeter was doing with his riding at Butch’s ranch.

Yeah, right. Skeeter. That’s who he was interested in learning more about.

Cooper attempted to focus his stare straight ahead rather than at how her shirt showed off her curves. He decided it was best to get his mind off Hannah’s body and onto her food. “I guess I gotta heat this thing up first to eat it, right?”

“I would, if I were you.”

“You gonna stick around and make sure I don’t mess it up? Maybe stay and help me eat some of it?” He eyed her as she opened the front door for him to walk through carrying the pan.