37. Leah
37
Leah
I push through the door of Arnold Hallstead’s coin shop. The bookshelf-lined walls are cluttered and unorganized with old books, tattered magazines, and opened boxes. Coins line up neatly in rows in the long glass case that sits north to south in this room. Some gold, some silver, some in cases, and others in plastic sleeves.
Arnold, in his brown suit, his thin, flighty hair combed over meticulously, looks up at the opening of his door. He almost looks confused. I’ve never seen anyone come into Arnold’s shop—maybe he hasn’t either.
“You two,” he says.
“Hi, Arnold.” Cooper waves with his free hand. He’s keeping his other tucked in mine. “How’s the silver market? Are we buying or selling today?”
Arnold’s shoulders straighten. “Oh, it’s a buyer’s market. For sure.”
“We’re just looking around,” I tell Arnold. Cooper does not need to buy Arnold’s breakfast and his coins.
“Busy day?” Coop asks .
Arnold keeps his eyes on us. “The busiest.”
And yet, we are the only people here.
“So,” Arnold says, waving one finger our way. “You two are a thing now?”
“A thing?” I say, and Cooper refuses to loosen his grip on my hand. “Um, no. Not a thing.”
“Yeah, we’re a thing,” Cooper tells him. “It’s new. But it is something .”
“It’s not,” I say.
Arnold’s brows furrow as he studies us. “It looks like something.”
“Cooper,” I say, peering up at him. Whew , he is tall. “Tell him.” I realize I’m still holding his hand as I say this. It doesn’t exactly support my objection.
I don’t care.
“Tell him what?” he asks. And sure, I might be trying to intimidate Cooper with a stare-down, but he just stares right back.
I don’t know what to call this thing between Cooper and me, so Arnold should not be labeling it.
“Sure,” Cooper says. “I like Leah, Arnold. I like her a lot. In fact, I’m pretty sure I like her more than I’ve ever liked a woman and?—”
“Okay!” I spout, cutting him off. “That’s enough.”
“You said to tell the man. I’m telling.”
I clamp my lips shut and swallow a laugh building in my chest. “That’s not true, Arnold. This is just fun.” I hold up Cooper’s hand still tucked in my own. “And casual.”
Arnold’s brows raise–my word choice seems to startle him.
And he’s right. Casual is a terrible argument. “See—” I start.
“Well, that’s not accurate,” Cooper says. “ Yes, it’s fun. But it’s not casual. I like her, Arnold. A lot.” Glancing down at me, he adds, “Have I not made that clear?”
I swallow, my heart swelling and my head fogging. “Crystal.”
“Good,” he says, and then, right in front of Arnold Hallstead—coin collector and pecan roll lover—he leans down and pecks a kiss to my lips.
The firework show that has a very regular schedule begins its display inside of my body. How annoying. Still this thing–whatever it might be–is new, and this is Cooper . “You can’t just kiss me,” I tell him, and yet, I don’t let go of his hand. The firework stand won’t allow it. But my mouth works–so I keep talking. “And in front of Arnold.”
“Sorry—do I always need to wait for a request from you or…” he says, poking fun at me.
Logic and the past tell me that resisting this man is wise. He’s my lawyer. My once nemesis. I shouldn’t be encouraging him. Slowing down is the smart thing to do. And yet, the way I feel each time Cooper says I like you , and every time the man touches me—it’s like I’ve lost all control. I don’t even want control. I just want him to repeat the action. Again and again—for the rest of my mortal life.
Cooper’s “or” hangs in the air. He leans down yet again and presses another kiss to my lips, this one lingering.
And I let him—right in front of Arnold.
“ C
ome on, Leah. It’s just bowling,” Andrea groans. She’s been growling at me all morning. I’m tempted to switch Cricket out for the front just to escape her. But Cricket’s refused to make any more pecan rolls. She says she’s on strike—but only from pecan. She’ll make anything else.
So, for the time being, I’m stuck with a pleading Andrea. Pleading over something as silly as bowling .
“Still—no.”
“But you’ve been a thing with Cooper for days now.”
“We’re not a thing. And another double date might ruin it. Remember the first?” I shove my tray of uncooked pecan rolls into the oven and peer back at her. “It wasn’t exactly blissful.”
“That was different. You were different. Things are?—”
“ Different ?” I say, pressing one hand to my hip.
The swinging kitchen door opens a smidgen, and Cricket’s head pops inside. My stomach does a double somersault, and I wait for those blissful, inevitable words.
“Leah, Big, Broad, and Brooding is asking for you.”
“Of course he is,” Andrea says. “Because he asks for you every day.”
“He does,” Cricket says as I yank the apron over my head. “He comes every day. He asks every day. And yet, every day it’s like a happy little surprise.”
Andrea shakes her head at Cricket’s wispy tone.
“He’s getting an orange roll today.” She grins like a proud parent.
“Great,” I tell her. “That’s wonderful. Excuse me.”
“Ask him about bowling!” Andrea titters behind me.
“Ask him what he’s naming his roll!” Cricket says.
I ignore both of them and hurry to the front.
Holy smokes, Cooper is nice to look at. He always was, but now—grown-up forearms, grown-up shoulders, grown-up chest— whoo . Not hating a guy really changes things in the attraction department. Happy little nerves churn in my stomach, and heat washes over my cheeks and neck. He’s standing there—his button-up shirt stretched over his chest, his beard trimmed, and that smile— oh man , that smile.
“Hi,” I say, grinning without any sense of control.
“Hey.”
I walk around the counter, happy to see three other customers in line. Cricket has followed me out to help them—and while she may have glared at the woman who just ordered a pecan roll, she’s boxing it up for her. I’m calling it a win.
My body has become magnetized to Cooper Bailey. It itches and flutters and causes all kinds of chaos in his presence. At least until I reach for his hand, and he willingly gives it, calming my insides.
The thing is—this thing with Cooper…despite what I say every time someone asks, it is a thing. A really lovely, tender, joyful thing. I don’t want to ruin it by labeling it. By addressing it too much. I spent so much time misunderstanding Cooper, loathing Cooper, wishing lightning strikes upon Cooper that I just need a little time to wrap my head around these new and improved feelings for Cooper.
Or maybe I just need to jump in. That’s what Abuelo would say.
But the deep end is scary.
The sensations Cooper has created inside of me are new, raw, and wonderful. I didn’t even feel like this after two years with PJ. And yet, when it ended, it hurt. A lot.
Not to mention that Cooper hurt me when I had zero feelings for him—think of the damage the man could do now.
“How’s your day been?” Cooper’s words filter through all the doubts and chaos inside of my head.
I blink and bring myself back to the present. “Good. It’s been busy. ”
“That’s great.” His fingers entwine through mine, tracing each of my appendages as he laces our hands together. “Are you up for dinner tonight?”
“Are you up for bowling with friends?” Andrea pops out beside us like one of those old scary Jack-in-the-Box toys. I never saw her coming.
Cooper blinks. “Bowling? With you and Mitch?”
Andrea nods, and I glare at my friend—deadly laser beams are streaming from my eyes right into her skull.
“Come on, Leah. It’ll be fun. I just want to hang with my bestie. I want to double with you !” Her nose wrinkles. “And without PJ.”
“I’m pretty good at bowling.” Coop shrugs one shoulder. “Maybe Leah’s scared.”
“I am not scared of you, Cooper Bailey,” I say, slapping his chest with the back of my hand. “I could beat you in bowling any day.”
Cooper hisses, his hand holding mine gathers close to his lips. “I don’t know,” he says before pressing a kiss to my knuckles. “I’m competitive. I won’t go easy on you, Bradford.”
“Like I’d want you to,” I say, but the words are more breathless than intended. I swallow and find my voice, full force. “I’m every bit as competitive as you, Bailey. Bring it on.”
“Y’all are weird,” Andrea says. “Adorable, but weird.”