It's In His Heart (A Red River Valley Novel) (5 page)

“It would be my pleasure. I haven’t taught since Bradley got sick, and I miss it.”

Their food arrived and Ella dived into her pancakes like one of the guys.

Butch stirred sugar and cream into his coffee. “Thanks, Ella. That would be great.”

“Sure thing. It’s the least I can do for you fixing up that bathroom for me in the loft.” She shot a cloudy look in Coop’s direction. “Since I’m going to be here for three months, I really need my own space.”

Coop’s ping of appreciation evaporated.

“Oh, and Kaylee’s cute,” Ella said to Cal, a smile in her voice, “and she likes you.”

That was it. Ella went too far. Coop couldn’t tutor his brother in academics, but he could certainly offer him some friendly advice when it came to women. “Trust me, they’re nothing but trouble.” He waved a fork toward Kaylee delivering food to another table. “Learn it now, and save yourself a lot of heartache and even more money.” Nope, Cooper Wells would never again fall prey to a conniving female. No more.
Nada.
He was officially off the market and planned to become well acquainted with his hand. The real thing just wasn’t worth it. Ever.

“Coop, did it ever occur to you that not all women are evil beings sent from the bowels of hell to ensnare you in their wicked plans to take over the world?” Ella asked.

“Nope. Never.” He cut into his food.

She rolled her eyes, then shoved another chunk of sugar-on-a-plate into her mouth. She chewed, swallowed, and wiped her mouth with a swipe. “Maybe, just maybe, it’s the kind of women you hook up with.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He feigned insult, but he knew exactly the kind to which she referred. The kind who looked good but would never inspire a long-term commitment from him. No, marriage wasn’t for him, and neither was cohabitation.

His mom leaving him and Butch behind had been hard enough. Oh, she’d begged Coop to move with her to California, but ten-year-old boys weren’t usually real anxious to leave their friends. Or their fathers. Then came the revolving door of wives filtering through Butch’s life, the last one giving birth to Cal just before cleaning out Butch’s bank account and disappearing.

No, Coop would be content staying single. And after what happened with his last presumed girlfriend, Kim, he didn’t even care to date anymore. Kim Arrington had come to him begging for help, and that’s what he’d tried to do. She set the trap, and he walked right into it like a dolt.

“It means stop dating bimbos,” she said flatly. Picking up her glass, her lips formed a perfect little O around the straw, and she drew on her OJ.

Coop sputtered.

“She’s got a point.” Butch shrugged.

“Enough with the points, Dad.”

“Why are you holed up here?” Ella doused her pancakes with a little more butter and syrup. “With all this time off, I’m surprised you’re not backpacking around Europe or surfing on the Mexican Riviera. There’s a whole big world out there, you know.”

“Not my style. I can do all the adventure-seeking I want right here in Red River.”

Ella cut off another chunk of pancake and swirled it around in the inch-deep syrup. “Cal didn’t tell me exactly why you’re being investigated. He left that honor for you.” When she molded her mouth around the fork and her eyes closed in savory appreciation, he tried to ignore the tug below his belt and the heat gathering in the same spot. Damn this place for making such good pancakes. “Care to share?” she said around a mouthful of carbs.

Coop speared a piece of green chili turkey sausage with his fork, shoving an entire link in his mouth. Staring at his plate, he chewed in silence.

“She’s gonna find out, bro. You might as well be the one to tell her.”

Butch sucked in a deep breath, gathering steam to speak, but Coop cut him down with a glare.

“Don’t say it,” he growled at his dad.

Butch showed Coop both palms. “I’m not going to say that Cal has a point.” When Coop speared another organic sausage, his dad added, “But he does.”

“You’re a lot angrier than I remember, Coop. You really should get some help with that,” Ella said.

Coop surrendered and dropped his loaded fork onto the plate. “I was trying to help her out. Besides, we only dated a few months,” he said.

“And?” Ella tapped an index finger on the table.

“Kim needed help,” Coop explained.

“Oh, you actually ask their names now?” Ella said, and both Butch and Cal snorted.

“As. I. Was. Saying.” Coop drew in a deep breath and fought to keep his temper in check. “Kim came to me with a sob story about how she needed to save money to go back to school. She needed a job, needed a place to stay. Her roommate was doing drugs. Obviously, she couldn’t go back to her apartment because of the druggie types that were going in and out at all hours of the night. It wasn’t safe. So I gave her a job.”

“You gave her a job? In your office?” Ella’s regal brows snapped together.

“There were tears. Real ones. What was I supposed to do?” Coop defended his honor, since his family obviously wasn’t going to jump in on his behalf.

A hearty laugh bubbled through those ample lips. “You fell for that?” The mirth that danced in Ella’s eyes irritated him to the bone.

“It was supposed to be temporary. Only for a few weeks until she found another job. Then she would move out, and we could go our separate ways.”

Ella blinked at him several times. “You let her move in with you, too?”

“It was temporary!”

“Uh-huh. I suppose you bought some oceanfront property from her, too.”

“Do you want to hear this, or not?”

“Alright, alright, go on.” Ella downed another gulp of sugar-in-a-glass.

Coop rubbed his eyes. “After six weeks, she still wasn’t gone.”

“Big surprise,” Ella mumbled as she polished off another thousand carbs or so.

“By that time, I really didn’t want to date her anymore.”

“Another shocker,” she added a little above a whisper.

“But she wouldn’t move out. Finally, I told her she couldn’t work for me anymore, I boxed up all her things and changed the locks at the office and at home.”

“Uh-oh, you fired her.” Ella said. “I bet that set off World War Three.”

“Try a mushroom cloud,” Butch piped up, making a bomb-dropping whistle and finishing off with a perfect imitation of an explosion, with hand gestures and everything.

“Instead of picking up her things at the office the way I asked her to do, the police showed up. She accused me of sexual . . . misconduct.”

Something flickered in Ella’s emerald greens. “Coop, are you saying you could go to prison?”

He dragged a hand through his hair. “I haven’t actually been arrested yet. The police are investigating, but my attorney assures me they don’t have enough evidence to make any charges stick. It’s really my word against hers.”

Another glint of dark emotion raced across Ella’s flawless features. Concern, maybe? Nah. Disapproval, more than likely.

And damn it, this time the irritating woman had a point.

Whatever. He wasn’t about to admit it to her. And there was no way he was going to prison for something he didn’t do.

C
hapte
r
F
ive

A late-morning breeze whispered through the giant cottonwoods, gently stirring their leaves. Snow still capped Wheeler Peak, as it did most of the year, but fresh pine-scented air and moderate temperatures declared summer had arrived in the Red River Valley.

Coop baited the hook and threw it into the stream. As the water took it, he pulled out more line and let it snake downstream. Tossing a look over his shoulder toward the cabin, he stewed, an ocean of conflicting emotions raging inside him.

When he recited the whole embarrassing mess to Ella, disapproval emanated from her and encircled him like a nasty wool blanket that had been left out in the rain, all itchy and irritating. But he didn’t see a shred of doubt about his innocence in her gaze. She didn’t recoil and excuse herself like most of his “friends” in Albuquerque. When the story first broke, his phone stopped ringing, and he became a social pariah. But Ella just shrugged and said it was bound to happen sooner or later, him being a man-whore and all.

Come to think of it, he should’ve taken that as an insult, but his heart had thawed toward her a little. She believed him, which was quite unbelievable, actually. And then she came back to the cabin and moved her ass right in with him, instead of hauling that nice little back end straight out of town.

Ella was inside, unloading two shopping bags of junk food, unpacking an alarming amount of feminine paraphernalia, and settling into the cabin for the entire summer. Not the typical reaction from a woman if she thought her housemate might be guilty of a crime.

Coop’s stomach soured. Any idiot that had to force himself on a woman was a monster. God, he hadn’t forced a woman to do anything against her will, ever. Unless you counted the time in high school when he made Caitlyn Thompson, a very popular cheerleader, go out with a geeky member of the chess team because she’d lost a bet to Coop.

Ella opened the back door to let the dogs out. Atlas ran to him, sniffing around the can of worms. Winston made it down the steps, then hesitated, looking across the backyard at them. Probably deciding the stream was too far out of his range, he flopped on the grass by the steps.

Coop chuckled, shook his head, and returned his attention to the stream.

Granted, most of his romantic liaisons had been shallow and superficial, but that didn’t make him a pervert. Admittedly, it probably made him an asshole, but he could live with that. But sexual misconduct? No way. That kind of behavior was so far beyond disgusting that it made his stomach turn.

Ella hadn’t batted an eye, though.

Not true. Actually, she’d batted two very beautiful green eyes, but the point was, not even a hint of doubt had flickered through those deep pools of shimmering emerald.

It was so much easier being angry with her. Why’d she have to go and be so nice . . . sort of?

It was a conspiracy. He was convinced of it. Regardless of what Ella said, women possessed closely guarded answers to the secrets of the universe, and men would forever be kept in the dark. No wonder his dad had struck out all five times he got up to the plate.

Coop reeled in his line and recast it. Dragging a hand over his whiskered jaw, he tried to tamp down the sorrow he felt over Bradley’s absence. Coping with his legal problems would be so much easier if Bradley were here to listen. “I miss you, buddy,” he mumbled to the stream. It was times like these that made Bradley’s death so painful.

Coop’s line jiggled, and he tugged on it. The line went taut, and Coop reeled in a nice-looking brown trout. Putting it on the stringer, he reloaded his hook and walked a little farther upstream. When he found a nice rock with a deep pool around it, he tossed the bait into the water again.

Normally, a little fishing helped clear his mind, but today . . . today the thing that chewed at his conscience couldn’t be escaped. Ella’s very presence was a constant reminder of what a lousy friend he’d been to the best guy he ever knew.

When Bradley got sick, Coop couldn’t accept it and refused to talk about it. With the patience of a saint, Bradley kept calling, even when Coop withdrew, seeing him less and less. A year after the diagnosis, Coop’s cell phone rang, and he let it go to voice mail when he saw Bradley’s number on the screen. The New Message signal beeped and he played it back.

Ella’s voice sounded in his ear. “Coop, uh, hi.” She hesitated, just as uncomfortable with him as he had always been around her. “Bradley can’t get out of bed. The doctors don’t know how much time he has left. He’s lucid most of the time, but the oncologist said that will deteriorate as the cancer spreads through his brain.” More hesitation, then she drew in a heavy breath. “Listen, he really wants to see you. It might be a good idea if you come by soon, you know, while he still knows who you are.” Her voice cracked, and it took a second to regain her composure. “Your dad’s been visiting once a week. Cal’s been with him a few times. Butch said he’s planning to retire soon and move to Red River permanently, so he wants to spend as much time with Bradley as possible before moving away.” She sniffled. “Bradley knows he doesn’t have much time left, Coop, and he wants to see you.” A few seconds passed in silence. “I’m asking you to come see him before it’s too late. Please.”

The emotions woven through that last word tore at Coop’s heart, forcing him to face the truth. The loss of the best friend he had ever had, the sadness of a young woman mourning for her husband and for herself, a brilliant young man cut down in the prime of his life—all of those things and many more knifed through him, and he felt his very soul tear from his chest.

For the first time since his mother walked out the front door, suitcase rolling behind her, Coop had sat down and cried like a baby. Then he got dressed and went to see Bradley.

Ella finished organizing the pantry and started on the kitchen. With both hands planted on her hips, her eyes raked the cluttered countertops. She breathed deeply. This was going to take a while. As she plotted her plan of attack, the landline rang.

“Hello?”

“Hi, sweetie,” her mom’s voice sang through the receiver.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Obviously, you got to Red River in one piece.” Her mother’s usual sweet Southern drawl turned to a scold.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call.” Ella paused. “I’ve kinda had my hands full since I got here.”

“Is everything alright, hon? Do you need money?”

“No! Mom, I’m fine. I already told you and Dad that Bradley had plenty of life insurance, and I got a fortune for the house.” Not to mention the royalties from her book, which had already made her as rich as Midas.

Deafening silence made her shift from one hot-pink running shoe to the other. Like a six-year-old wanting to get out of time out, she offered a halfhearted explanation. “It’s just, you know . . . I’m trying to get settled in. How’s Dad?” Ella changed the subject.

“Oh, he’s as ornery as ever, honey. When’re you movin’ home?”

She cringed. “I told you I’ll come for a visit in the fall, but I’m not moving back to Texas, Mom.”

“Why not? There’s plenty of teachin’ jobs around here. You need to be back with your family now that you’re alone. We can’t take care of you when you’re way out there.”

“I don’t need anyone to take care of me, Mom,” Ella ground out. “I’m a big girl.”

“Well, now you’ve got your sister, Charlene, madder than a hornet,” her mother harumphed.

“What did I do wrong this time?” Ella asked with resignation, because she’d
always
done something wrong.

Her mother snorted her disapproval. “You’ve got your niece, Kendra, wantin’ to follow in your footsteps. Says she’s movin’ away. Applying to colleges out of state.”

Ella stilled. If her churchgoing family found out about her new profession, they’d likely not want her around her nieces and nephews at all. Moving home would be a disaster if the truth came out, because she’d be banned from the entire dry county by chapter three of book one. Once they got to chapter ten . . .

Oh, thank the angels in heaven for pen names.

“Your father and Henry, Jr., just walked in from checking the cattle,” her mom said, and Ella was never so happy to change a subject. Except for maybe when her mom tried to give her “the talk” on her eighteenth birthday, as if Ella hadn’t already figured out where babies come from.

The cattle. Oh, joy.
“Tell them I said hi,” said Ella, guilt threading through her. Those cattle had supported their family and put her through a bachelor’s degree, but then her dad had insisted she become a veterinarian and help work the ranch.

Ella shuddered.

Working in cow dung in hot, humid temperatures just hadn’t been her dream career. Seemed more like a nightmare to her.

Her mom repeated Ella’s message to her dad and brother and then got back on the phone. “They want to know when you’re movin’ home.”

Ella rolled her eyes.

“Listen, I’ve got to run. I’ll call soon.” Ella had to get off the phone before she said something she’d regret. She loved her family, but every phone call was charged with disappointment and her failure to become what they expected her to be. And the incessant demands for her to move back to East Texas drove her insane.

“Isabella, your dad said we’ll drive out there and help you move back. Just let us know when.”

Wow. Some of her family came to Albuquerque when she graduated from UNM. That was the only time in seven years they’d visited her in New Mexico until Bradley’s funeral.

Ella glanced out the picture window over the sink. Coop shuffled toward the cabin in muddy rubber boots, a string of trout in one hand, a fishing pole in the other, and a scowl on his face.

“Gotta go. A storm is headed my way, and I need to prepare for it. Love y’all!” Throwing in a “y’all” always earned a few brownie points and eased her mom’s disapproving tone.

Her mom sighed, issued a discontent farewell, and Ella pressed the End button.

Ella stared out the window at the storm in question. Right. A wicked-hot storm by the name of Cooper Wells. How in heaven’s name was she supposed to prepare for that?

The next morning Coop took Atlas for a long run to work off some tension. Tension also known as Ella Dennings. During the few days she’d been in Red River, the cabin had started to transform into a feminine nightmare. He couldn’t find half his stuff because the entire downstairs had been rearranged.

Taking the steps onto the porch, he adjusted the waistband of his nylon running shorts and reached behind his neck to grab a handful of
T-shirt. He pulled it off to wipe the sweat from his face. His breaths still heavy, he stood in front of the back door and sniffed the air. What was that smell? His forehead creased, and he opened the door.

The sterile odor of cleaning products nearly singed his nose hairs.

Atlas bounded in and joined Winston in the den. Coop looked around the room. A vase filled with fresh-cut wildflowers sat in the middle of the table. He rolled his eyes, surprised the flowers hadn’t wilted from the ammonia fumes that filled the air.

Bright yellow placemats adorned the table with matching cloth napkins that were gathered into fans and tied with artificial pieces of straw. Each mat and napkin was perfectly aligned. No way would he use something that . . . dainty to wipe his mouth. Paper towels worked just fine.