My One and Only(64)

“Are you sure?” Cooper asked as she walked in front of him to the door.

“I am. I have to get to work now anyway.”

He walked her to her car, opening the door when she unlocked it from her key chain, and proceeded to kiss her senseless, seemingly indifferent to the fact that they were standing in a public parking lot.

When they finally came up for air, Cooper slid the windblown hair out of her eyes and said, “I’ve waited a long time to be able to do that.”

Her brain only half working, she said, “A couple of weeks isn’t all that long.”

“No,” he agreed. “But a couple of decades is.”

Once again, she could not have heard him right. “Decades?” she said, swallowing hard.

Green eyes glowed down at her. Kind eyes. Patient eyes. She’d never known how patient.

“All this time—” she started, but Cooper pressed a hand over her mouth.

Echoing her words, he said, “We can talk about it Friday.” As if she were a small child, he put her in the car, kissed her cheek, and closed the door.

As she watched him walk away, Haleigh repeated, “All this time.”





Chapter 20

Cooper had believed that learning Haleigh’s history wouldn’t change how he felt. But he’d been wrong. After hearing the painful details of her past, he was more determined than ever to send her demons packing.

How to do that, he didn’t have a clue. But being clueless had never stopped him before. And though he recognized the inherent insult in the thought, he couldn’t deny the truth of it.

“Two weeks to go,” Spencer said. “Are you ready for the final report?”

Though there would be a Ruby Restoration meeting the night before the fundraiser, the final summary, including the projected profit, was on the agenda for this evening.

“I’m ready,” Cooper answered. “Buford has the handouts up front to pass out for review. By the time I get up there it’ll be a matter of pointing out the bottom line numbers and projections. Shouldn’t take long.”

He hoped the entire meeting wouldn’t take long. They were already getting a late start thanks to an untimely power outage at the restaurant earlier in the day. Though electricity had returned around five, the restaurant needed extra time for prep and didn’t open again for service until nearly eight.

As Spencer and Cooper took their seats, Stallings called the meeting to order. The usual proceedings rolled along—approving the minutes from the last meeting, the reading of the treasurer’s report, and the call for old business. Thankfully, no one wanted to rehash the car wash vs. movie night debate of the week before.

Harvey Brubaker, owner of the town grocery store and the dance hall that bore his name, had suggested a car wash fundraiser, which Jebediah rejected over water costs and possible flooding down Margin Street. Never mind that Margin Street had never flooded in the history of the town.

Jebediah had countered with a movie night, saying it made the most sense in relation to the theater and reminding folks why they were trying to save the building in the first place. Of course, the movie would run on weekend nights, cutting directly into Harvey’s business at the club.

After a loud discussion that threatened to escalate into a brawl, both topics were tabled for a later date. Cooper thanked his lucky stars that date was not tonight.

Once Spencer updated the committee on the architectural plans and the next phase of the physical restoration, which could only progress at the rate at which monies flowed into the coffers, Cooper was called to the front. He summarized the handout passed around at the start of the meeting, explaining that though all available slots were not yet filled, registrations continued to come in daily and they were confident the lot would sell out before the event.

“I have a question about the For Sale section,” Jebediah interrupted. Heaven forbid the man wait until questions had been invited. “According to this list, you have two of your own vehicles in that section.”

“That’s right,” Cooper said. “What about it?”

“As the organizer, should you really be profiting from this event?”

“I’ll only profit if the vehicles actually sell.” Pointing to Buford, he added, “The committee is reimbursing the hardware store for the materials used for signage. And the local food vendors get to keep the money they make. What’s the difference?”

“The difference is,” Jebediah drawled, as if speaking to a child, “neither Buford nor the food vendors are organizing the rally. Also, how do we know other potential attendees, ones who would spend their dollars at several other local businesses, aren’t being turned away because you’ve taken these spots?”