It's In His Heart (A Red River Valley Novel) (3 page)

In the beginning, Coop understood Bradley’s physical attraction to Ella. Her anal-retentive routine soon wore thin, though. She couldn’t handle a spontaneous act of fun if her life depended on it. When Bradley told him she didn’t much care for Red River because it reminded her too much of all the country bumpkins back in her hometown, well, that was just nauseating.

He stared at the bedroom ceiling and listened to the shower. With the bathroom next to his room, he could hear her moving around, even knew when she picked up the bottle of liquid soap and set it back down. She was in there, all steamy and wet, rubbing handfuls of Old Spice body wash all over herself. He had forgotten what a great body she possessed. A little short for his taste, not scary thin, just filled out and rounded in all the right places. The rain-soaked Nike running shorts she wore had molded to her thighs and hips, reminding him of how fit she was. Not so muscular that she lost her feminine allure, but just enough to look healthy and lush.

After the hot water washed her clean and warmed her up, she would put on the T-shirt he’d offered her. What else could he have done, since her luggage would have to stay in the car until morning? That ill-timed act of chivalry now had him in a state of misery. The minute he’d handed the white undershirt to her, his overactive imagination produced images of what would be underneath. Or, more precisely, what wouldn’t be underneath.

He swallowed hard.

“Jesus, she’s my best friend’s widow.”
And
she just attacked me with pepper spray
,
so get over it.
Besides, Ella seemed like the type to prepare for any eventu
ality. If she carried pepper spray and a Taser in her purse, she probably had a veritable department store of extra clothing tucked in there, too.

Lifting his head, he looked down at the tented sheet.

Nope, not getting over it anytime soon. His head fell back on the pillow.

His latest experience with a member of the opposite sex should’ve rendered him incapable of such an intense reaction. That nightmare had led to this self-imposed exile to Red River.

She thinks she’s staying all summer.
Coop snorted. As if he’d let that happen. It was too late to argue about it tonight. Plus, he needed time to come up with a good reason
why
she had to leave. Immediately. He couldn’t tell her the truth. Not unless she’d already heard about his situation. God, he hoped not. Since he hadn’t been arrested yet, his attorney had managed to keep it out of the news. No, he doubted she knew, or else she’d have been her usual smug, condescending self. When it came to him and his confirmed bachelor lifestyle, she let her disapproval glow like radioactive waste.

She never made an appearance at the cabin when Bradley was still alive. She probably thought the “hicks” here were beneath her. She usually made Bradley take her on some ridiculous historical vacation. Okay, she
was
a history teacher. He’d give her that much. But she’d made it clear that Red River wasn’t up to her lofty standards, which had always been fine by him. He’d preferred that Bradley come alone, so they could do guy stuff like fishing and rafting. So they could drink beer at night with their feet up on the coffee table, and burp or scratch themselves without Cinder-Ella staring down her nose at them.

So, why now?

The shower shut off. After a few minutes of Ella doing whatever women do in bathrooms, the door opened, and footsteps retreated down the hall. The wood planks creaked under her feet. She called for Winston to follow, and her door clicked shut.

He ran two fingers across his bloated eyelids. Tomorrow, the first order of business would be to drag her car out of the ditch, then get her on the road and out of his life.

C
hapte
r
T
hree

Ella yawned and wandered into the empty den, Cooper Wells far from her thoughts. She grabbed a crocheted afghan off the sofa and tugged it around her shoulders. Pulling the front door open, she whistled to Winston. “Come on, boy, go outside.” Winston hustled outside for his morning constitutional, and Ella snuggled deep inside the handmade-by-Granny blanket, stepping out onto the wooden porch. The crisp mountain air filled her lungs and bit at her bare feet.

For several years she’d stayed away from the cabin after her fateful run-in with Cooper Wells. But after watching Bradley wither into nothingness, his rural hideaway, where he’d come to relax and recharge, was the only place she wanted to be right now. Red River—where the Ute and Jicarilla Apaches once roamed, and prospectors had carved countless mines looking for precious metals—sat nestled into a lush, green valley and held a serenity that brought peace to her wounded soul.

Winston shuffled up onto the porch and let out a low growl, cutting his eyes up at her.

Chuckling, she bent to scratch him. “You ready to eat?”

He barked.

“Stupid question,” she said, and walked back into the kitchen, her bare feet slapping against the linoleum. Rummaging around in the pantry, she found a bag of dog food.
Thank you, Atlas
. She pulled a large bowl from the cupboard and filled it. While Winston devoured the kibble like a vulture having his first meal in a week, Ella searched through the disorganized cabinets.

The French press coffeepot she bought for herself and Bradley when they were dating lay hidden behind a haphazard mound of mismatched pots and pans. She pulled it free and circled her finger around the lip of the carafe. It definitely failed the white-glove test. The gray dust coating her fingertip confirmed it hadn’t been used since the first, and last, time she visited. She gave it a good washing, and then foraged around the messy kitchen, locating the necessary ingredients to make coffee—the only thing she could successfully create in the kitchen.

When she finally held a steaming cup in hand, she ambled through the lower level, reacquainting herself with the place. Definitely a guys’ weekend retreat. An eclectic collection of country and rustic furnishings filled the den and dinette. A wrought-iron staircase spiraled upward to a loft that offered several sets of bunk beds and a bathroom that hadn’t worked since before she met Bradley. As photography was one of Bradley’s hobbies, several of his nature photographs still garnished the walls.

Bradley had loved this place. The solitude of Red River had been his refuge since he started coming here with the Wells family in his adolescence. He would’ve loved nothing more than for her to share it with him, but she’d disappointed him. She and Coop, the two people Bradley cared about most, had let him down in the worst possible way.

She stopped at the bar separating the kitchen from the dinette, and cleared off a barstool that was stacked practically to the ceiling with Coop’s miscellaneous junk. She’d really have to give this place a good cleaning, and soon, just to make it livable. After she gave Coop full ownership and left for destinations still to be determined, Coop could dirty it up to his heart’s content. While she lived here, though, the clutter had to go.

Ella perched herself on a barstool and sipped her coffee. The afghan slipped off one shoulder, and she pulled it back on, angling her stool toward the large picture window, which offered a grand view of the babbling stream that ran through the back side of their property. The log she had sat on to watch Bradley fish for trout still lay there, clumps of blue fescue grass growing up around it.

A loud snore reverberated from the corner. Ella laughed. Finished with his breakfast, Winston had found a cozy spot on top of the floor vent and curled into a ball for a nap. His back legs moved in rhythm, and Ella shook her head. Probably dreaming of Atlas.

Even though she only intended to stay the summer, the cabin felt nice, comfortable. Like home. It needed a little tidying up, granted. Glancing around the lower level, which had everything from clothes to sports equipment strewn around, she lifted a dirty sock from the other barstool with two fingers. Well, maybe it needed to be disinfected and some of the contents torched, but still, it would be cozy once she cleaned and organized it. She tossed the sock aside and wiped her hand on the afghan with a grimace. Still, the cabin was comfy and intimate, and Red River had always reminded her of the coziness and tranquility of her home in East Texas, without all the family drama and obnoxious demands for her to stay and help work the ranch.

She shuddered at the thought.

She stared down at the dark brown liquid and rolled it around in her cup. Steam curled up and teased her nostrils. Warmed her soul. A great way to start the day, especially in the mountains where a chill always hung in the morning air, even now in early June. Unfortunately, her favorite drink couldn’t dispel the guilt she still carried.

The truth was she loved it up here. During that one and only visit to Red River, she’d fallen in love with the town, its charm, the quaintness, and the familiarity of everyone knowing each other. It was kind of cute, actually. Safe. Secure.

Coop’s Toyota Tundra, with its oversized off-road tires, churned into the driveway, her BMW in tow. His beefy truck circled the cabin and pulled to a stop in front of the window, blocking her scenic view of the stream and ending her nostalgic walk down memory lane. Bradley’s image faded like mist, leaving her with a view of mud-encrusted steel-belted radials. Filth covered both vehicles, but hers didn’t even resemble the same car she left in the ditch last night. Instead of midnight blue, it had transformed into a sludge gray. Not a fleck of blue paint could be seen through the thick grime.

Coop jumped out of his truck and headed for the house, Atlas bounding after him. Coop’s caramel hair feathered against the breeze, and his faded jeans went taut over muscled thighs with each long stride. Behind him, his younger brother, Calvin, got out of the truck, and Ella smiled. A younger version of Coop, Cal had darker hair and a boyish face just as handsome as his older brother’s.

Cal walked to the Beamer where their dad, Butch, sat behind the wheel. Cal pulled suitcases from the backseat, and Butch popped the trunk and got out to retrieve its hidden treasures.

Butch’s resemblance to his two sons was uncanny. With graying hair and a small spare tire around his middle brought on by age and retirement, Butch wore a jovial smile.

When Coop’s boots landed on the wooden porch and he stomped the mud off, Ella twitched. She bristled, waiting for the inevitable confrontation.

“Hi,” he mumbled when he charged through the door, a muddy clump dangling from one hand. Then he just stood there. He blinked once. Then twice, his eyes traveling down her bare legs. Swallowing, the muscles in his contoured neck flexed, sending a strange tingle through Ella’s chest.

She tugged the afghan tighter. “I, uh, didn’t have any of my own clean clothes to put on, so I borrowed more of yours. I hope you don’t mind.”

When she uncrossed her legs, Coop blew out a heavy breath, and his eyes grew darker. With his dislike of her emanating from his very pores, Ella’s nerves got the better of her. She babbled out a lame explanation. “Uh, I don’t usually rummage through other people’s things, but I found these hanging in the bathroom and they smelled relatively clean.” She opened the afghan like a flasher to reveal his running shorts and the T-shirt he’d loaned her to sleep in. And yes, she had smelled them before putting them on and found no offensive odor. After searching the medicine cabinet, she doused them with body spray anyway. “I’ll wash them before I give them back.”

“Yeah. Fine.” His hazel eyes clouded over, and several wrinkles appeared between his brows. “The Beamer runs, but the roads are so rutted and muddy we had to pull it here. It’ll be a few days before you can get on the road again.”

She tensed. “I told you last night. I’m staying the summer.”

“No.” Coop scrubbed a hand over the faint shadow of stubble on his jaw. “You’re not.”

She placed her cup on the bar and stood to do battle, but Calvin burst through the door with Butch on his heels. Each carried suitcases in both hands and under their arms.

“Great to see you, Ella!” Butch roared. He dropped his load, then converged on her, swinging her around in a bear hug.

“Butch! It’s been too long. Haven’t seen you since you moved up here permanently.” When Butch put her down, she turned to Calvin and ruffled his hair. “You’re so tall, kiddo. I blinked, and you grew up.” She nudged Butch. “Handsome, too. You got your stick out, Dad, to scare off all the pretty girls?”

Calvin kicked the floor, shoving his hands in his pockets. His ears burned bright red, like any seventeen-year-old boy’s would when talking about girls. “Good to see you, too, Ella.”

Butch tossed his chin toward the mound of purple paisley luggage. “Looks like you’re stayin’ a while.”

Ella glanced Coop’s way, a smile on her plump, rosy lips. They danced when she spoke, and he wondered for the millionth time how they would taste. Again. “Oh, yes,” she said. “I’m here for the summer.”

Okay, been there, tasted that. Focus, idiot, she has to go.

“Hey, hey! That’s great, Ella,” Butch bellowed.

Coop wanted to roll his eyes. Why did his father make such a fool of himself around women? Especially those with a superiority complex. Luckily, none of his five short-lived marriages had stuck. The minute one of them said a cross word to Coop, they were history. He was a good dad, but when it came to women, he could be obtuse. Okay, dumb as a stump would be a better description, but hey, Butch deserved
some
credit for being a five-star father. Why it took his dad five failed marriages to figure out that he should probably stay single still perplexed Coop, because Coop decided he’d never marry by the time stepmom number two left.

As the familial traitors gushed over the unwanted intruder, Coop couldn’t keep his mouth shut. As usual.

“Why?” he asked.

Three sets of cheerful eyes turned on him. Merriment faded from the emerald-green pair.

“Excuse me?” Ella asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Why are you here for the summer?” Coop tried to sound civil, but his dad’s glare told him he failed.

She shot Coop a look that could wither a full-grown oak tree. “I do own half this place.”

“That still doesn’t answer my question,” Coop ground out.

“I wasn’t aware that I answered to you,” Ella shot back.

Butch cleared his throat. “Uh, why don’t we sit down and figure this out. Is that coffee I smell?”

Ella turned a charming smile on Butch. “It is, Butch, and there’s just enough left for you.” When her eyes returned to Coop, those upturned lips melted downward into a frown.

Coop held up the muddy object in his hand. “This yours?”

Ella’s brow wrinkled. “It vaguely resembles the shoe I lost last night in the ditch.”

He tossed it to one side, and it rolled toward the door.

“Uh, thanks, but you could’ve left it on the porch,” she mumbled.

“The handsome prince brought Cinderella her shoe,” Cal teased.

Coop tried to incinerate his little brother with a glare. Neither Bradley nor Ella ever knew he had pinned her with that nickname, mostly because he never meant it as a compliment. He’d already been a crummy friend to Bradley, in so many ways. If Cal gave him away now, Coop would siphon off the gasoline from his truck every night for the entire summer. Keeping his cocky little teenaged butt home might teach him a thing or two about family loyalty.

Butch rattled around in the kitchen, making a cup of coffee. Cal plopped into the recliner, kicking his feet up while he dug out his phone. He held it high. “Reception here still sucks. Too bad you don’t have Wi-Fi.”

“Oh, I brought a router.” Ella folded herself onto the sofa and meticulously propped her bare feet up on the coffee table. “Best one on the market. It can catch a signal from Colorado. The cable company will be here day after tomorrow to hook it up.”