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Midnight Valentine(43)

By:J.T. Geissinger


“Naw, it’s just a beautiful mornin’ is all!” He props his hands on his hips and looks me up and down. “And you look prettier’n a new set of snow tires, if I might say so.”

Blushing, I run a hand over my damp hair and look down at my jeans and blue sweater. “I’ve never seen snow tires, but I’ll take that as a compliment. Thank you.”

“Never seen snow tires?” He looks horrified, as if I’ve just told him my parents were siblings. “Where’d you grow up, the moon?”

“The desert, actually. Before here, I never lived anywhere but Phoenix.”

Coop thoughtfully rubs his beard. “Been to Phoenix once. Hot as hell and dry as a nun’s cooch.”

“Thank you for that disturbing visual. Is there some paperwork I need to sign? A scope of work or whatever?”

“Yeah, Theo’s got the contract all worked up. He left it on the kitchen counter for you.”

“Okay, thanks.”

I turn to head into the kitchen, but Coop says, “Megan?”

I turn back. “Yeah?”

He hesitates for a moment. “I just wanted to say thank you.”

“For what?”

“For this.” He gestures to the house. “For givin’ Theo a shot. He really needed it.”

“Needed what? I’m not sure what you mean.”

Looking over my shoulder, Coop lowers his voice. “This house is kinda…important to him. Don’t ask me why, ’cause I don’t know, but he’s been obsessed with this place for years. I think it’s been a dream of his to get it back to its former glory.” His blue eyes grow a shade darker. “Like maybe fixin’ the house will fix him.”

What is this tremor I’m feeling, this fluttering of butterflies in my stomach, this jangling of nerves? Empathy? Anxiety? I’m not sure, but this is the first time I can say with confidence that Theo Valentine and I have something in common.

“We only agreed he’d do the electrical, Coop. We’ll see how it goes over the next few days. I don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up.”

Coop chuckles. “Too late for that. I haven’t seen Theo this happy in a long time.”

I say sourly, “Great. So no pressure on me to keep him on the job, then. What if I’m not satisfied with his work?”

Coop looks insulted on Theo’s behalf. “Tch. You’ll be plenty satisfied. He’s the best, and that’s no exaggeration.”

“And what if I’m not satisfied with him? He’s not exactly the easiest person to be around, Coop.”

Coop acknowledges that with a nod, then pierces me with a look. “Theo’s not easy, I admit, but he’s the best man I’ve ever known. He’s honest, and honorable, and the kind of loyal that doesn’t ever break. I’d trust him with my life. With my kids’ lives. How many people do you know that you can say that about?”

“Do dead people count?”

Coop doesn’t bat an eye at my odd question, which I spoke without forethought, Cass’s name leaping to my tongue at the mention of honor, loyalty, and trust. My husband was a person who was good to the marrow of his bones, but he was also as fearless as a lion, especially when it came to protecting someone he loved.

He was that thing women crave at our most elemental core, a thing made all the more beautiful by its rarity: a real man.

Coop glances at my wedding ring, then looks back into my eyes. “Sure,” he says softly. “Death doesn’t end a relationship. Only a life.”

I press my hand to my heart, because goddamn. That hurt. “Unfair, Coop,” I say hoarsely. “You’re hitting me with this heavy existential shit before I’ve even had my coffee!”

Coop’s smile is as gentle as his gaze. “I can’t take credit for that particular piece of existential shit. I read it in a book about some guy named Morrie, stuck with me.” He watches me try to blink away the water pooling in my eyes. “Knew you were a softie under that tough-chick act. But I promise I won’t tell anyone. Your secret’s safe with me, marshmallow.”

“Shut up. And it better be. Now get to work.” I turn and stride away, listening to Coop’s amused chuckle as I go.

I nod at several workers as I pass through the house on my way into the kitchen. I don’t see Theo, which is fine, because without a hefty dose of caffeine, my head won’t be clear enough to deal with whatever mood change he might spring on me.

The first thing my gaze lands on when I enter the kitchen is the coffeemaker—which is when I remember the power’s off.

I stop, groan, and slap a hand on my forehead. Then I notice what’s on the island and stop groaning.