27. Cooper
27
Cooper
“ I
s someone here?” I say, my eyes darting to the kitchen door that leads to the front of the shop.
“No, I don’t think so,” Leah says. Her head tilts up to look at me, her body snug against mine. The woman produces feelings that I haven’t experienced in my twenty-six years.
I’m taking her answer as permission to proceed. I cup the back of Leah’s head, her dark, soft curls in my hand, not missing a beat. My nose brushes hers, and I inhale her sweetness.
But before I can make contact?—
Rap-rap! sounds from the front of her shop once more. This time accompanied by a “Leah!”
“Crap,” she mutters to herself.
“I think someone might be here,” I say, though there’s no might about it. And that someone doesn’t sound happy. I straighten up and grudgingly release her. I’m just glad I’m here. Who pounds on a woman’s closed-up shop while screaming her name ?
Her cheeks puff out with a gust of air. She blows the air out, her eyes on me. “Yeah.” She smooths out the wrinkles of her apron and brushes the the flour from her nose. “One sec.” She nibbles on her bottom lip, her green eyes locked on mine. “I’ll be right back.”
She doesn’t even look scared. Do men often pound on her shop door?
I’m not waiting back in the kitchen—not for a second.
I follow three steps behind her to the front. Her shoulders slump as she breathes out a tired sigh. Clearly, she isn’t afraid of the crazed man looking in. She just opens the shop door, then crosses her arms over her chest, looking more fiercely at this invasion than she did at me on that blind date.
“You’re suing me, Leah!” the man roars. Ah—not just a man. PJ. I should have recognized him–the man from the boat. But I didn’t. His face wasn’t important enough for me to remember.
I step out from around the shop counter and stand just behind Leah.
With his face red and crazed, and his hair slicked back, PJ’s handsome facade melts away. It must be raining outside because he’s wet—he’s dripping all over Leah’s clean floor.
But more than the wet spot he’s leaving, he’s yelling at her.
Leah is as calm as a nun in Sunday school, though. And I’m like a proud professor. She isn’t cowering. She’s standing up and looking her bully right in the face. “You sued me first,” she says.
He glares at her, his gaze somehow never landing on me. No, this piece of work only has eyes and blame for Leah. “You never cared about the podcast. Not like I did. Changing the name now would destroy me.”
Just like a champ, she sets one hand on her hip, her head tall—she is my A+ student. “I never cared? You don’t get to tell me what I care about.”
He huffs, but he doesn’t have a follow-up response. Cha-ching . That’s what we want. She’s calm. She’s confident. And he’s lost all control.
“It’s called a counterclaim,” I say, speaking up and moving out from behind Leah. I stand right next to her, and finally, PJ’s eyes dart to mine. “You knew that was Leah’s brand before the two of you chose to use it.”
“Who is this?” PJ says, looking me up and down—and while I may still be wearing a pink apron, I have several inches in height and width on the man. His scowl doesn’t scare me.
“This is Cooper,” Leah says, her tone soft.
“Wait, this is the guy from Paula’s wedding? You’re actually seeing him?”
“Yep, Peee J . She’s seeing me.” It’s a huge exaggeration, one that Leah may deck me for later—but it’s worth it. “I also happen to be her lawyer. I suggest you leave my client and my girl alone. At least until we conference in two weeks.”
“Or—” he starts, but I am in no mood to let PJ Booker complete a sentence.
“Or we’ll be adding a restraining order to our suit.”
The man’s jaw clenches, and his lip curls as if he’d like to curse me. He backs up to the glass door, Leah’s logo and Sweet Swirls’ name etched in pink on the other side. “You’ve changed, Leah,” PJ growls. “And not for the better!”
“Give us one sec,” Leah says to me.
I nod. She’s got this. She needs to do this. This man can’t have anything over her anymore. And he needs to know it, whether I’m around or not. And yet—I don’t go far. I stand just behind the counter, but I can hear every word.
“You are correct about one thing,” she tells him. “I have changed. At least when it comes to you. Sweet Swirls is my logo. It was never yours. You can decide if losing it destroys you or not. That’s on you.”
“You say that as if you’ve already won.”
“I have,” she tells him. “You just don’t know it yet.”
And then he’s gone, storming through Leah’s shop door and out into the rain.
I shake my head, watching him go, hoping he’ll fall into a puddle or slip and crash onto his backside, but mostly so, so proud of Leah. “What a jack?—”
“Your girl?” she says, walking around the counter and facing me head-on. She crosses her arms over her chest, her face stern as she stares up at me.
I rub the back of my hand beneath my chin, the short bristles of my beard jabbing into my skin. “It felt like it would pack more of a punch.”
“Ah.” She nods, her chest deflating with an exhale. “I’m not your girl, Cooper.”
“I know.” My heart pounds a two beat rhythm: Le-ah. Le-ah. Le-ah . Because while she’s very accurate in that statement, I wish she were mine. I swallow, my eyes searching her face. “Good job, by the way. You stood your ground perfectly.”
She gives me a lopsided grin. “I felt strong.”
“Good.”
She nibbles on her bottom lip. “Thanks for the guidance.”
I take two steps forward, my head rewinding to where we were before PJ showed up and ruined a very productive baking lesson.
Leah stretches out a hand, pressing it against the center of my chest. “I’m not going to kiss you, Coop.”
I halt all leaning, all nearing, and study those green eyes. “You’re not? ”
She sighs. “Not today.” She blinks up at me, her eyes narrowing. “That was a bit hasty of both of us. Don’t you think? We’ve spent the last several years hating each other.”
I give my head one small shake, keeping my eyes on her. “I never hated you.” In fact, once I noticed Leah, I couldn’t stop. She rarely laughed, but when she did, it was sweet-sounding. She read—all the time. Though once I caught her at a near-empty lunch table with a book opened and upside down. I wondered… Did she like reading, or did she like hiding?
She smirks. “Well, I couldn’t stand you.”
So much fire. PJ is a lousy fire extinguisher and a grand slam idiot. “But now we’re friends,” I say.
“Yes, friends . Let’s not get hasty, friend . Let’s not ruin what we’ve recently mended.”
Clearing my throat, I run a hand through my hair. I didn’t think we were ruining anything. But then, recent experience has proved that I’ve been wrong— a lot —in my life.
Leah groans, her gaze returning to the window. “He was so angry. More than I would have thought.”
“Yeah, well, it’s clear ol’ PJ thought you were going to roll over and give him whatever he wanted.”
She crosses her arms once more, covering the logo on her apron, the one we’re fighting for. “Not this time, Peee J ,” she says, skating her gaze back to me.
“Believe me, I wanted to call him something else.”
“Oh, I would have let you.” She grins, small and close-lipped. “But I do appreciate you letting me handle it, for the most part.”
“I have faith in you, Leah Bradford.”
“Yeah?” she says, blinking those black lashes up at me.
“Yeah,” I say.
“Me too.” Creases form around her mouth as she reins back her smile. I wish she’d just let it shine. Reaching out, Leah tugs on the front of my apron. “Let’s go open that gender reveal card. Eh?”