19. Leah
19
Leah
I stick to Cooper like peanut butter in a Reese's cup sticks to chocolate, avoiding PJ like Cricket avoids pecan rolls, and by the end of the night, I strangely need to admit that I maybe… possibly do not hate Cooper Bailey.
He’s grown up. So have I. And hate — yes, Abuelo, you were right —might be too strong of a word.
Cooper walks me to my car after the boat has docked and we’ve all been liberated. The Freed Wedding Prisoners of Coeur d’Alene —it’s going to be a horror film one day.
After the men’s bathroom incident, Cooper and I spent the night eating— finally —chatting, and people-watching. There is no way I can call Cooper Bailey an enemy anymore.
My mind still swirls around the fact that the boy who always had everything is having a rough year. He didn’t mention it again. And I’m curious. What does that even mean for Cooper Bailey? Is it like peeing-with-a-gusset-while-trapped-on-a-wedding-boat kind of bad or an annoying-hangnail sort of bad? There is a difference. And I’m unsure Cooper Bailey has ever experienced anything more than a hangnail.
“You’ll be able to make it home okay?”
“Yes,” I say, with a little too much sternness in my voice. I did just decide that we are no longer mortal enemies—I’m going to have to keep reminding myself. I soften my tone and add, “I’ll be fine. I’m taking this dress off and throwing it, its bodysuit, and its gusset into the trash.”
“Oh, the gusset.” He rocks on the balls of his feet, the cool evening air biting at our cheeks.
“Do men have any idea what women go through?”
“I’m gonna go with—no,” Cooper says.
“The directions actually called it simple to use. Can you believe that?” I grunt. “It was probably invented by a man who would never have to use it.”
“Whoa. Ouch. I doubt that. No man would come up with that kind of torture device.” He narrows his gaze on me. “So, Leah Bradford, do you hate all men?”
“No,” I yip. I don’t even hate Cooper anymore. “I adored my grandfather.” My eyes skirt the ground and I sigh. “I just haven’t had a lot of luck when it comes to men. Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like a man-hater.” I swallow. “I’m not a man-hater.” Not normally.
He shoves his hands into his pockets. “Good to know.”
“So, what are your troubles, Cooper? What does a ‘rough few months’ mean for a guy like you?” I lean against my old Chevy, arms crossed over my chest, and ignore the thump of my beating heart.
A sad grin plays on his lips. Cooper has nice lips, full and pink—I mean, if you’re into lips and you notice that sort of thing.
“I was fired four months ago.” Not what I expected—and yet the man goes on. “I got my dream job—and right out of college too. That in itself was miraculous. But then, I made a mistake. I took on a case—one I believed I could win and one that I believed was morally right.”
I clamp down on my lip, listening to him. Morally right . That might not be what I expected from Cooper, either. Working for something because it’s right–not selfish. And yet, doesn't it fit his M.O. these past two weeks? “And you lost?” I ask, needing the rest of the story.
“No.” He snorts out a humorless laugh. “I won. I won big.” He tilts his head to the side. “I’m good at what I do.”
Shocker—Cooper Bailey is good at what he does. Ugh . I know a girl who could use a good lawyer about now.
Still, I don’t understand. If he won the case, what happened?
My brow furrows, and I sit up from my slouch against the car. I tug my sweater tighter around my shoulders, the cool forty-degree air kissing my skin, giving me goosebumps. But I don’t want to go just yet. I want the rest of Cooper’s story. “Confused,” I say when he doesn’t go on.
“Yeah, I was too. The managing partner—who I’d yet to meet—came to me angry. So, so angry. I had represented Green Timbers in an environmental suit against Duwamish Lumber Company—who, apparently, our office has represented in all legal matters for the last decade.” Cooper swallows. “Only I didn’t know that. I’d only been with the company for six months. I should have done more research or talked to my senior partner about the case. But I was confident.” His lips fold in on one another. “And proud. By the time the partners found out, it was too late.”
Never did I ever think I’d feel bad for Cooper Bailey—especially for his pride coming back and kicking him in the butt. He made a mistake, and he’s paying for it. And was it really a mistake? He said he took on a case he felt was morally in the right. How can that be wrong? My heart softens for him. For Cooper Bailey–it’s an entirely new sensation.
“The worst part is,” he says, and I can’t believe there’s more, “I haven’t told anyone.” He peers at me with earnest eyes, his brows bouncing once as if he’s giving me the clearest picture ever of his pitifulness.
“No one?” My heart pounds. His confession has shifted my nerves into overdrive.
“My current employer knows. Bluewave Law made sure of that. But my family”—his eyes drop down to the asphalt—“my mom and brothers think I’m here because I chose to be. Don’t get me wrong, I love living near my family. But that isn’t why I came back.”
I reach out a hand and wrap my fingers around his forearm—strong and sturdy, and ridiculously sexy. Is that even a thing? “But you did choose home. You chose your family. You came back to Coeur d’Alene. There are a million other places you could have gone, Cooper. You chose here. For the record, I think you should tell them the rest of the story. I think you’d feel better. You need the support. You need to move on— mentally .”
His lips lift in a crooked smile. “You’re probably right.” He swallows and his eyes lock on mine. “Thanks, Leah.”
A cool breeze races through the gaps of my cardigan and down my back. Chills run over every inch of my skin. I peer up at Cooper. “See you around. Thanks for helping me tonight.” I turn away from his warm stare and tug on the handle of my red Chevrette.
“Oh, and Leah,” he says, and I peer back, meeting his eyes. They pierce me. They go right through me, making my heart swoop inside my chest. “Please don’t throw out that dress. That would be a travesty.”