Faithful (2 page)

However, if anyone can help Lauren and I sort this out, it will be Archibald Bixby, town lawyer extraordinaire and one of the few people who will help us for free, no strings or invoices attached. Yet the thought of sitting in Archie’s law office while he explains the cost of business expansion, loans, investors, and hiring people, thus increasing our overhead and payroll, gives me the willies.

I’m not as sure-footed and determined as our friend Carson, who started the furniture company in town. Between his high-end furniture business and his foray into building eco-friendly homes, he employs over one hundred locals. He’s become the favorite employer, generating enough in sales to pay far above the average as well as offering bonuses and premium benefits packages. I’m not sure Lauren and I have the fortitude to carry our business that far, to put ourselves out there with a high risk of failure and the fear of a huge debt.

Sometimes, I imagine us moving our little workroom from the second floor of this old house to a real studio and having several very talented employees assembling the necklaces, earrings, and bracelets Lauren and I design. In my scenario, it’s a comfortable, bright studio where we happily chat while we work, orders piling in, bills paid on time, and naturally, our business, brand, and income growing.

Then there’s the reality that most businesses fail. Lauren and I could take out small business loans to expand the abandoned garage at the end of the main street and hire a few locals who have been out of work for years. They won’t have any real skills or talent for beading, but we could teach them the basics so we can increase our inventory just enough to break even each month. We won’t have money to renovate our space; it will be shabby and gray with a few permanent oil stains on the concrete floor. While we work, we’ll all drink cheap coffee Lauren will provide with her Mr. Coffee machine she still has from our college days, and we’ll keep our conversations guarded, worried that each day brings us closer to bankruptcy. It’s a lousy scenario I revisit each day.

I’m not sure we can be as successful as Carson. I don’t know if we have his drive, although his came in part from a serious desperation and will since there were no other options besides success. He had been taking care of his younger brother Dylan for so long since their parents’ deaths, and Dylan needed medical help—his bipolar disorder had put him at risk for every possible horrific outcome. Carson Blackard is the most ambitious, determined person I know. He took on his new business and managed his brother like the shiny new steam engine that rolls into a horse and buggy town and shouts its arrival.

Carson helped revive our little town. He also put a lot of good people back to work and brought in some new people, too. Not only did he get Dylan help, he has him running the sales division of Blackard Designs, which is shipping furniture to high-end retailers all over the country. Carson also hired one of my dear friends from college, little Miss Mobster Emma, as Lauren and I used to call her. I guess it’s not so funny now that her father was arrested in an FBI takedown of several high-profile mobsters last year.

Emma’s life is better now with her marketing position at Blackard, working with her new husband to boot. That’s right; she married our lovable, once mentally unhinged Dylan. In fact, both Dylan and Carson, the two men I expected to be lifelong bachelors, got married.

I love those two guys to pieces. I grew up with them, and they are like brothers to me, but how in the holy hell did they manage to find their soul mates and get married before me? Carson was all work and no play, avoiding women altogether, and Dylan had a terrible reputation as a womanizer, not to mention being crazy as fuck sometimes, while
I
worked hard at the dating scene.

I mean, I
really
worked it like it was a legitimate career from high school all through college, and I ended up in relationships with Mr. Douchebag-Who-Accidentally-Sleeps-With-The-Girl-In-My-Dorm, Mr. I-Care-For-You-As-A-Friend, Mr. We’ve-Had-Sex-It’s-Time-For-New-People, Mr. I-Have-Needs-And-One-Woman-Isn’t-Enough, and Mr. I’m-Leaving-Town-Without-Telling-You.

Yes, indeed, I’ve had my share of shitty men. I don’t know how it’s still happening since my resolution years ago to stop dating pretty-boy jocks or unbelievably good-looking, rugged hunks seemed like it would weed out the ones who were sure to disappoint or, worse, hurt me. I thought I had perfected my new no-wanker vetting system, but Jeremy somehow got through my firewall of protection.
That wanker
.

To fly under Grandma Bonnie’s cursing radar, I’ve adopted slang from British romantic comedies. My grandmother has pitch-perfect hearing when I mumble
fucker
or any variation of the word. So now, when I’m sizing up men at the diner, the pool hall, or any social event, I have my Wanker Radar on full alert. Apparently, I will be dateless until the end of time because, so far, every single guy I meet registers as a wanker.

And, although we’ve never dated since he moved here over a year ago, I had Cooper penciled in as a wanker, too.

Cooper
, my brain murmurs.

Three

After a shower and a half-assed attempt at blowing my thick hair out, I stumble into the kitchen for coffee to make me feel human again and a slice of untoasted bread to stop my stomach from rumbling.

Leo left a note on the fridge, saying he’ll make us dinner tonight. He’s not a wanker. Lauren actually has a nice guy. Gangly, sweet Leo. In the humidity, his short, brown hair curls make him look like a young teenager. He moved in a year ago when he sold his home to Dylan, which is where the newlyweds now reside.

I don’t mind having Leo around, helping with expenses and upkeep. So far, the house feels large enough to avoid intruding on each other’s space. They have the master suite on the third floor, and I’m at the other end of the hall with several empty bedrooms between us. Aside from our workroom, we have an actual formal library we’ve designated as the TV room. This is where Leo escapes from us and spends most of his time, either on his computer or playing video games on the TV. The first floor living and dining rooms are rarely used since we don’t have all those great parties we imagined hosting when we first moved in here. Other than eating in the kitchen and sleeping in my bedroom, I live in the second floor studio, beading every chance I get.

I’m not always so negative or cynical; I absolutely love designing and creating our jewelry. It’s the business end that has me in a constant state of distress, worrying if we can succeed or if I’ll have to learn how to love Spam and powdered milk.

Once I’m suitably awake, I plant myself at the large craft table that can seat more than a dozen people and takes up most of our studio space. Starting with the new beads that were delivered, I begin sorting the gemstones and silver beads into their proper bead boxes. It’s the kind of tedious work that sucks up our time and slows down our productivity. We’ve discussed hiring a high school girl to come do some of the grunt work so we can work on the craft and business details, but even a minimum-wage employee is too steep for our non-existent budget.

As I begin filling bead trays for individual necklaces we’ll make today, I hear vehicles rumbling up our dirt driveway. Then I hear Lauren and Leo in the downstairs front entryway. They trail off down the hall, heading towards the kitchen, but I also hear heavy footsteps on the staircase.

I look up from my beads to see Cooper filling the doorway. My insides quake with a little tremor, either at being found or suspicious of what will follow his appearance.

Cooper looks as good as always; no hangover, no sallow, tired skin. His shoulder-length, straight blond hair is tucked behind each ear and looks perfect against his tan, handsome face. I’ve seen that knowing grin of his so many times I’ve learned to look away to avoid being swayed by his magnetic charisma. Everyone thinks he’s charming and gorgeous if you listen to the women gossiping at the yoga studio when they have their asses in the air and their heads low to the ground as they rate local men in hushed tones. He’s a regular ol’ chick magnet, the last thing I need.

“Imogene.” There’s that deep, rumbling purr again. He always says my name with a slight smirk on his face.

“Hi, Cooper.” My eyes sweep over his physique quickly before settling back on my work.

I didn’t miss a single detail: the relaxed jeans that hang from his narrow waist; his thick biceps reaching up as he places his hands on both sides of the doorframe, pulling his white T-shirt up enough so I see his flat stomach; and his broad chest that seems to get bigger every time I see him. The heavy, physical work he does at Blackard Designs has definitely done wonders.

Cooper was promoted to operations manager, and I’ve watched him helping the crew load furniture into the delivery trucks and unload timber delivered to the factory. He looks like he does it all, and it looks amazing on him.

“How are you feeling today?” he asks with a little smugness.

I continue beading, though I see him out of the corner of my eye, slowly walking around the studio, checking things out. “I feel like I have sharp boulders rolling around in my head. How about you?”

“I didn’t drink last night, so I’m good. You look great, by the way.”

I snort a laugh and look up at him. “Honestly, Cooper, you don’t have to lie to make me feel better. I feel like crap. I actually got winded brushing my hair today. But I’m fine. I’ll recover.”

“I’m being honest.” Cooper’s gray eyes catch mine, paralyzing me for a moment. “You always look good, Imogene. No bullshitting.”

“Oh,” I manage to say then look down again. Usually, I have a sarcastic comeback or a mean dig for Cooper. This time, nothing comes to mind.

“Well, look at that. I made you blush.” Cooper’s slow, rich chuckle feels like a caress.

Damn, he’s good.

“Thank you for carrying me to bed. I’m told Leo was too drunk to help and Lauren was too tired to care.”

“It was my pleasure.” He leans against the opposite side of the table from me. “I wasn’t going to let them leave you in the car, and I finally got a chance to show you I’m not a jerk.”

“I never said you were a jerk,” I snap and immediately wince at my sharp tone.

“You didn’t have to. You’ve been treating me like I have the plague, and you take every opportunity to walk in the other direction from me.” He tilts his head slightly, waiting to see how I’ll talk my way out of this one.

“True. I haven’t been the most pleasant person over the last year. Sorry. Now you know why I’m not on the board of the Hera Welcome Wagon Committee.”

“Does that exist?”

“Not officially. It’s really just Lauren.”

As Cooper laughs, I take a breath and laugh along with him. Perhaps this is a first—us being together alone where I can’t use the presence of others as a safe buffer. I’ll admit, this moment with him is surprisingly nice.

Said Little Red Riding Hood about the wolf.

“So, you really do work all the time,” he says, lifting his chin at the wire crimper in my hand and the elaborate display of beads in the tray in front of me.

“Yes, but I love doing this. I wish I could do
only
this and make a living at it.”

“Lauren told me you two plan on quitting the diner soon, and you need to put more into your business.”

“She did?”

“Yeah. She and I talk a lot. She’s not afraid that I’m contagious, and she is living with my best friend, after all.”

For a silly, stupid moment, I think he’s referring to me, but of course, he means Leo.

“Ha. Funny. I guess I didn’t think you two talked much.” I sort through my bead tray, concealing the fact that I’ve completely forgotten to use two beads and screwed up the sequence on the necklace.

“She’s even eaten dinner at my house, with Leo, of course,” he continues.

While I only stare at Cooper as if I’m meeting him for the first time, he laughs at my stunned silence. “What’s wrong? I never see you speechless. Are you surprised that we share the same friends?”

“I suppose I haven’t given it much thought, but I guess I have missed some of the things going on around here. I always assumed Lauren and Leo were going out to restaurants or movies. It never occurred to me that they went to your house.”

“I always ask her to invite you, too, but Lauren thinks it would be uncomfortable for you,” he explains with a sly smile. “Something you want to tell me?”

“Um, no. I’m good. I kind of stashed the social life for work and sleep. I’m a little bit more concerned about our setup here than Lauren. She’s better company than me, anyway.”

“She told me you’re a little stressed out.”

“Wow, you two do talk a lot.”
About me.

Cooper studies me for a moment, his eyes giving away nothing, seeming to casually assess me and everything around him. Sometimes, when he watches me, I sense he can see right through the defenses I’ve put up when I can’t tolerate small talk or casual, flirty behavior from customers at the diner or men who think buying me a beer at the pool hall will put them in good favor. With a slight nod or a questioning tilt of his head to the side, I know Cooper’s thinking about something that’s out of the ordinary. Do I know this for certain? No, but a guy doesn’t leave an extraordinary career without having mastered some kind of unique skills, even if he’s secretive about his background.

I don’t know much about his old life before he moved to Hera other than he was an FBI agent, involved in some mob dealings that had to do with Emma’s past. At some point last year, he resigned from the agency and went from being an undercover, gun-toting character du jour to leading a rather simple existence in a management position at our local furniture factory. It’s all a little peculiar, especially since he comes across as a leather-clad, easy-going biker.

Seeing him ride around our sleepy, little town on his Harley makes me wonder why a young guy like him would give up his adventurous career in the city for table saws and daily lunches at Bonnie’s diner. It’s not like everyone sitting around, eating meatloaf sandwiches and burgers while trying to drum up the most scintillating town gossip that rivals the local weather report is very interesting.