Meant to Be (Whisper Creek #5)(17)

Cole nodded. "You won't get any argument here. So let me ask you this-are you gonna tell her you're the hired watchdog?"

"Can't. Kyla and Ma don't want her to know."

"So have they come up with some sort of cover story for why you're staying in a honeymooners' cabin … by yourself?"

Cooper rolled his eyes, wishing the truth wasn't so close to the story they'd concocted. "Apparently I was jilted at the altar. I'd already paid for the honeymoon, so I decided to take my own damn self on vacation instead."

"Wow." Cole laughed. "I'm so sorry, man."

"Yeah. Apparently I've had better summers."

He sighed, trying to swallow the bile that had risen from his stomach.

At least that part wasn't a lie.

-

Later that night, Shelby pulled the couch throw across her shoulders and pushed open the screen door to her porch. For the last couple of hours, she'd sat at her kitchen table, a fresh pad of paper in front of her, a pen in one hand and a coffee cup in the other, but she hadn't made the tiniest mark on that paper. Instead, she'd looked down the hill toward the stables, watching guests come in from a trail ride, laughing and a little bit sore as they untacked their horses and brushed them, talking the entire time.

She hadn't been able to hear the words they were saying, but she'd caught tendrils of laughter on the breeze when it had shifted her way. One minute, that laughter would cut deep, because how could people just be moving through the day, not knowing that the entire world had shifted?

But another minute, Shelby would find herself smiling just the tiniest bit as she watched a pony shake her head, or a kid press his forehead close to his horse's, or the stout woman who must be Ma ringing the big cowbell on the main lodge porch, announcing dinner.

There was just something about this place that called up a simpler time-something that made Shelby feel like if she wanted to, she could maybe walk on down to the stables and saddle up a horse … maybe put on a hat and sunglasses and head out her back door to walk in the meadow that reached upward toward the woods at the top of the hill. 

She wondered if she even remembered how to ride anymore. And strangely, that wondering gave her hope. It was a pinprick of light that reassured her she might find her way back from this dark, dark place.

She wondered if Cooper rode, and thinking about him gave her a pinprick of a different sort. He'd been so kind this morning, when he could have been judgmental and condescending about her kitchen disaster. After more than a decade of dealing with taskmaster after taskmaster on tour, it was refreshing to meet a man who didn't make her feel like she was doing something wrong, merely by breathing.

She hadn't known him long-and good God, let's keep it real here-she didn't know him at all, but she couldn't ignore the pang of jealousy that had hit her this afternoon when she'd thought about him with his brand-new wife next door.

A couple of hours ago, she'd seen him walk down the hill toward the lodge, and hadn't quite been able to stop seeing him. For a guy on his honeymoon, he sure spent an awful amount of time alone.

Of course, he also spent a lot of time in his cabin, so maybe he was having a perfectly good honeymoon, thank you very much.

"Hey, Shelby." Cooper's voice was soft as he stepped around the corner toward her porch, as if she'd conjured him. "Master that trick kitchen yet?"

She held up her cup, which held only water, but he wouldn't know it wasn't filled with coffee she'd brewed herself. "Yes, thank you."

"I made too much dinner. Have you eaten?" As he came closer to the porch, she could see he was carrying two plates of spaghetti.

"Um … " Her mouth watered at the smell, but didn't come up with words immediately.

"I'm a terrible judge of how much to put in the pot." He stepped closer, holding out a plate so the garlic practically crept up her nose and changed her brain chemistry to Italian. He smiled like he knew. "Want some?"

"Um, sure?" She knew she shouldn't say yes, shouldn't accept the invitation, but omigod, that garlic. Her stomach growled in response to the smell, which made him chuckle.

"Great." He took the two steps up to her porch in one stride, setting the plates on the little wooden table connecting the Adirondack chairs.

Oh. He was-staying?

What was it with people here at Whisper Creek? They kept showing up with food, then parking themselves in her chairs without waiting for an invitation.

She looked toward his cabin, which looked awfully cozy, with soft lights filtering out through filmy curtains like the ones in her own cottage.

"What about-your wife?"

"My wha-?" He looked genuinely confused, which left her genuinely confused, because hello, honeymoon cabin?