Cooper Bailey Is A Cinnamon Roll (Another Bailey Brother #4)

1. Cooper

1

Cooper

B lind dates? Not my favorite. But I need a win.

Living in your childhood bedroom with your mother down the hall after eight years of independence and one year at a top-notch legal firm in Seattle is a confidence killer.So sure, I don’t love blind dates, but I’m good at them. I might be the king of blind dates.

I can make any girl swoon. I’m smooth. I’m charming. Mom always said I was too handsome for my own good.Yep, women might be my only foolproof category left in life.

This date is going to be the lift my old ego needs.

I study my reflection in the restaurant window for two beats, adjust the collar of my jacket, and then start for the entrance. An older woman shuffles in front of me, walking slow and steady up to the door of the Cactus Cantina. I reach around her and pull the entry open. “Let me get that,” I say.

She turns at the sound of my voice, and I am reminded of a sloth moving in the wild. Her cheeks wrinkle as her lips form a wide grin.

I smile down at the elderly woman. “Hi, there,” I say because we’re in close contact now and a greeting feels appropriate.

“Sweet boy,” the woman says, her wrinkled palm moving like a snail up my face to cup my cheek.

While my new friend caresses my jawline, six more people head into the restaurant.

“You don’t meet many sweet boys these days,” she says.

“Well, thanks.” I watch three more people head inside while I stand here holding the door open. When my new friend doesn’t move, I make a suggestion: “Shall we go inside?”

“I’m waiting for my son.” Her nose crinkles and she offers a small nod. “He’s not nearly as handsome as you.”

“Huh.” I really can make all women swoon. “We could wait inside for him.”

My new friend loops her arm through mine, and like a banana slug, we walk into the front house of the restaurant.

“I’m Betsy.”

“Nice to meet you, Betsy. I’m Cooper,” I tell her. I can’t help but notice there is suddenly a line behind us. “Do you think your son is already here?” I’m wondering if he came, ate, and left while Betsy and I worked on getting inside the restaurant.

“Oh sure,” she says, lifting her head as if to look around for him. “Where could he be?”

I can’t leave her alone, not until we find that son.Why is Betsy coming here alone as it is? I may need to have words with this son.

I glance down at my watch. Six minutes late. Wow. Already . I would have been right on time had I not met Betsy. Andrea, my friend Mitch’s wife, is my matchmaker tonight, and she’s not going to like my tardiness.

“Do you want to sit?” I ask. “I’ll talk to the hostess and see if anyone is waiting for you.” I stride up to the desk, determined to practice a little of my Duolingo. “Hola,” I say to the young hostess.

She grins, and in an accent so much better than my own, replies, “Hola.”

Sure , those Duolingo lessons are coming along. I’ll be conversing with José Macias, my newest client, in no time —said no sane human ever. But don’t tell my boss that.

“There’s a woman here,” I tell the hostess. “Betsy. She’s waiting for her son.”

“Oh.” She peeks around me and understanding dawns on the girl’s face. “ Phew .”

If I’m much later, Andrea will make Mitch break off our very new friendship.

“He’s been here a while,” she says. “I’ll grab him.”

“Wonderful. Gracias.”

My shoulders relax. I turn back for Betsy. “Your son is on his way over, okay?”

“Did you know that in 1942 a woman could not work past nine p.m.?”

“Really?” I nod, scanning the front of the restaurant for Mitch’s head. “I didn’t know that.”

“It was law.”

“That’s interesting. I’m actually a lawyer.”

Betsy tilts her head. “And you don’t know the law?” She lets out a long breath. “Handsome, but not a very good lawyer.”

Thanks, Betsy. You aren’t alone in that thought.

Yep, I need this ego-boosting blind date more than ever.

Thankfully Betsy’s son is much faster than Betsy. I bid my new friend goodbye and I’m off. Time to meet Andrea’s bestie from her catering days. Apparently, she’s been wanting to set us up since the first night Mitch invited me to their place for dinner.

I adjust the collar of my suit jacket—the one I bought in Seattle when Bluewave Law hired me. It cost me half a month’s rent, but I was working for the big dog, making the big bucks, and I wanted to look the part.

If only I’d bought something cheaper. That money would come in handy about now.

I scan the various tables, looking for Mitch and his goofy mustache. And there he is, with Andrea and… a date for Coop. Mitch hasn’t spotted me yet, though he and Andrea face my way. At this point, I can only see my date’s back—long dark hair cascades in curls down her back, covering a polka-dotted long-sleeve shirt. It looks like something my niece, Alice, might wear. I can’t see my date’s face. I know nothing about her. But I’m here, and I might as well go all in.

I stride over to the table for four, waiting for me. “Hey,” I say, putting on a grin and reaching for my friend’s hand.

Mitch stands and slaps his palm to mine.

“You’re late,” Andrea growls irritably.

Mitch clears his throat and gives me a we’re good nod.

“Sorry. I was studying my Spanish and got distracted.” No reason to involve Betsy. She didn’t ask me to open that door or find her son. I turn my gaze to my date…Oval face, smooth, tan skin, green eyes, dark lashes, full lips and— glaring . She’s cute, like very cute, but the woman is most definitely glaring at me.

I’m not trying to be boastful, but that isn’t how women usually look at me.

Sure, I’m nine minutes late. Is she that much of a stickler? Maybe I should mention helping Betsy. This is supposed to be an ego-boosting date, isn’t it?

“ Cooper . Bailey ,” she says, and while I’m mentally listing her attributes, let me add a sinister voice. Scolding, law-making, gonna-hurt-someone kind of voice.

I clear my throat. While Andrea must have given her friend my name, I never got one. “And you are?” But even as I say the words, I’m struck with a sense of familiarity. Those green, laser-stunning, killer eyes… they’re memorable.

“Wait,” Andrea says, and I happily look away from the woman who may end up murdering me in my sleep. “Leah, you already know Coop?”

“Hold up, what?” I look back at the beautiful but frightening creature I’m supposed to be sitting next to. All at once it hits me, like a brick to the temple.

Those eyes. It’s been years. But this isn’t the first time they’ve glared at me.

Leah Bradford.

Yep, I’m in trouble.