32. Leah
32
Leah
T he Baileys are huggers.
I have been hugged goodbye by no less than four Baileys. And I’ve yet to make it out of the house.
“We’re so glad you could come,” Lucy tells me. “Don’t be a stranger. Make sure you come again soon.”
“Thanks,” I tell her. “I?—”
But I don’t get to finish that sentence.
“WAIT!” Alice bellows as she races through the kitchen doorway. She plants herself between me and Cooper’s mother. “We’re having a Valentine’s Day party tomorrow! You have to come!”
“Oh.” Wow, another Bailey get-together? Already? This family really likes their gatherings.
“Isn’t it Valentine’s Day today?” I ask her. Why isn’t this the Bailey holiday get-together?
“Yes. But my dad is working tonight. And Uncle Owen can’t be out late on school nights. Technically neither can I.”
Lucy’s fingers trail down Alice’s long blonde hair. “ Cooper and I are having a little party with the kids while their parents go out tomorrow.”
“You must come, Leah! We are decorating cookies, and Uncle Coop could never teach me to decorate the way you could.”
Cooper lifts one shoulder. “Well, that’s true. Leah’s a pro. Did you see her cake?”
“Of course I did!” Alice points to her uncle. “And he could never do that. He’s all thumbs—I don’t even know what that means. But it can’t be good.”
I clear my throat. “I don’t want to crash.”
“You’re not crashing. Alice is inviting you,” Cooper says. “Do you have plans tomorrow?”
I don’t. And imaginary plans aren’t popping into my imaginary calendar at the moment. “Um.” I clear my throat, feeling nervous with so many Baileys watching while I answer. “What time?”
“Six! We’re having pizza and making cookies, and then after Grandma puts York and Lula down, we’re making Uncle Coop watch a chick flick!” Alice giggles and rubs her hands together as if in an evil scheme with her grandmother. “Do you know what a chick flick is, Leah?”
I breathe out a laugh. “I do.” And strangely, I kind of want to see Coop do all that—cookies, chick flicks, and babysitting.
Then again, Cooper and children tend to send strange subliminal messages to my insides, so maybe I should avoid Alice’s party altogether.
Alice giggles. “We’re going to make him watch a girl movie.” She sighs and wipes at her tearing eyes. “So, you’ll come? Because Uncle Coop talks about girls, but he never brought any of them around until now. And I like you.”
I flick my gaze up to Cooper.
“I don’t talk about girls,” he mutters.
“Sure you do,” Alice says. “You watched all those dating shows with all those girls, and then they got mad at you because you took two of them out to dinner. There was Addy and Sophia and Madison and?—”
“Okay!” Coop says, swiping a hand around Alice’s mouth and shutting the girl up.
“That’s a lot of girls,” I say, grinning at Alice and then up at Cooper.
Pink blooms in Cooper’s cheeks. “That was college and those were friends and—” His eyes dart to my face. “I don’t talk about girls.”
“You said you are the kissing king. You said you’ve kissed twenty-two girls.”
Twenty-two. Wow. I guess it could be more. It happens to be a whopping nineteen more than I’ve kissed, but who’s counting.
“Cooper,” Lucy chides. “So many? And you told Alice?”
“I didn’t tell Alice,” he says. “I haven’t counted?—”
Alice pulls Cooper’s fingers down from over her mouth and peers up at him like she might be disappointed in him too. “He told Momma. And she says Coop is a serial dater. I don’t know what that means.” Alice shrugs. “My favorite cereal is Cookie Crisp. I bet a lot of girls like that cereal. But Coop says she’s wrong; he’s not a serial dater, but he might be a professional boyfriend. Still, with or without cereal, he never brings those girls around. I think it’s because they have no brains in their heads, and Grandma and I would never approve. But you’ve got brains, Leah—a lot of them. And I like you.”
“I’m not a professional boyfriend. I didn’t call myself a professional–” Cooper says, a blush flaming over his cheeks. “Sure, I’ve dated. But?— ”
“But we aren’t dating,” I say to Alice, saving Cooper from an explanation. “Maybe that’s why he brought me around. Because we’re just friends.”
Alice points at me and nods. “Maybe so. See, you’re smart. I like this one,” she says to Cooper before turning back to me. “So, can you come?” She holds both hands in the air, her fingers crossed. With her eyes closed, she whispers, “Please, please, please,” to herself.
“Okay. I’ll come. But probably just for the decorating. I can’t stay up too late. I work really early in the morning.” My pulse quickens. Am I actually agreeing to this?
Alice pumps her fist. “Yes! I am the best at talking people into things.”
Next to me, Cooper clears his throat. “Yes, you are.” His eyes blink over to me. “Can I walk you out?”
“Sure, player ,” I say, giving him a wide grin—because man, it’s fun making Cooper squirm.
He opens the front door for me, and before we’ve stepped out into the cool evening air, he’s backtracking. “To be clear, I’m not a player.”
“Nope. Just a serial dater . Is that like a serial killer? Do I need to watch my back?”
Cooper rolls his neck to the side. “I dated a lot in high school. And in college, but?—”
We need to end with that but , because I’m already a little weak in the knees when it comes to Cooper. “But it doesn’t matter. Because we aren’t romantically involved.”
“Right. Friends ,” he says, and I wonder if my mind is making up the disappointment in his tone. According to Alice and Lake City High history, Cooper could have any girl he wants. “You don’t mind coming tomorrow? Mom and I are dressing up babysitting with a party for the kids while all the adults go out.”
I smirk. “And you aren’t one of the adults?”
“Not tomorrow,” he says without hesitation.
I swallow. “I like your family.” I like him. “If it’ll make Alice happy, I’ll be there.”
“Thanks.” He grins down at me, that senior superlative smile wearing me down. “For the record, it’ll make me happy to have you come too.”
Settle down, ovaries. This is a friendly invitation, a friendly welcome. We aren’t getting excited. We aren’t going on a date. We aren’t falling for Cooper Bailey.
We’re babysitting.
Only my insides know that I’m lying. Because part of me has already fallen for Cooper Bailey—even if, logically, I know it’s not the smart route.
“Hey,” he says when we’ve reached my car. He runs a hand over the back of his neck. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“It’s not about you, or your case, or even me.”
I’m confused and intrigued all at once. “Okay. Shoot.” I lean my back against the passenger door of my red Chevy, eyes on Cooper.
He rolls his shoulders, his throat bobbing with a swallow. “My brother and his wife are going through something—something private. I want to be helpful, but I don’t have all the details.”
“Slow down, Bailey. Start from the top, and maybe you’ll confuse me less.” A shiver runs over my back. I should have worn a coat. But it was supposed to be a quick cake drop-off and head home.
“Do you mind if we sit in your car?” he asks. Cooper does not miss the goosebumps bubbling over my bare arms.
I’m not sure how long this is going to take, but then, I don’t really have anything to get home to, and Cooper has me curious.
I walk around to the driver’s side door, and we sidle into my little Chevette—the car that just won’t die. Thank goodness.
I turn the car on, blasting the heat. Spring is coming to Coeur d’Alene, but we aren’t in full bloom yet. “So, what’s happening exactly?”
“Owen and Annie are having a baby, but I recently learned that Miles and Delaney have been trying. To get pregnant, I mean.”
For the record–I knew what he meant.
“And they can’t, for whatever reason—like I said, I don’t have details. I have a secret Delaney told me. What do I do? How do I help? Miles doesn’t even know I know.”
“Maybe you don’t tell random people Lane Jonas’ secrets?” I suggest, but I’m teasing. Something soft and small to lessen the hurt in his eyes.
“You aren’t random,” he tells me and my heart turns inside out with the words.
He’s sweet. Much too sweet. And he just wants to help his family. It’s a recurring theme for grown-up Cooper. He helps Arnold by buying him a roll every morning. He helps me with my case. He helps babysit his nieces and nephew.
He is, apparently, a giver.
And that—more than his broad shoulders, firm chest, and stupidly dreamy eyes—make my insides very, very confused.
I’ve never been a mother. Until Cooper Bailey tried to kiss me, my biological clock had been dormant, and yet, my heart hurts for these people I hardly know. “I’m not sure what you can do,” I say, knowing it isn’t the answer he’s looking for. “Not until your brother knows that you know. I think you’re doing all the right things, even if it doesn’t feel like enough. Just be there for them. Be someone they can talk to without judgment. Let them know you care. If all else fails, talk to Lucy.”
He nods, but it’s an absent motion. His mind is running—I can see it. “Thanks, Leah.” He doesn’t look at me; he’s still contemplating. But he opens the door and steps out into the cold.
“Coop,” I say, needing him to look at me. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning?”
“Yeah. I have to buy Arnold his roll.”
I bite my inner cheek. “And tomorrow night.” My pulse thrums in my neck. “I’ll be over to party with Alice.”
His somber expression lightens. “Sounds good. Thanks, Leah.”