Chapter Five
Cooper looks up from his menu, placing it thoughtfully against the table.
He hasn’t said much since we left the office, and it doesn’t take me long to overanalyze the crap out of his silence.
I set my glass down with a shaky hand.
“I’m a family man,” he says, throwing me in a spinning loop-dee-loop.
“Okay…” I say, grasping at whatever direction he’s going.
“So you want rooms for kids?”
He smirks, the scruff on his chin catching my attention and sending an unexpected jolt near my bellybutton.
“I do, but that’s not why I bring this up.”
He settles his elbows on the table, reaching up to scratch his ear, and I tilt my head; I wonder if that’s a nervous tick of his.
“I have a blurting problem.”
“Apparently.”
“And I say a lot of things I shouldn’t. I do a lot of things without thinking and then I overanalyze later.” Ha, join the club, buddy.
“I’ve been jogging down your street for twenty-two days, and I’m not normally so flustered around a woman, but…” He waves his hand at me like I should know the end of his sentence.
I give him a look like I’ve eaten something sour and prod.
“But…? ”
He grins.
“You are insanely attractive.”
My nose rumbles, a snort billowing out just to emphasize how “insanely attractive” I am.
I think about my order—a bowl of fruit and a glass of water—something light because I’m packing pounds that are usually frowned upon in today’s society.
My eyes are too close together, my cheeks so chubby that when I smile too wide, my eyes go clean shut.
My hair is a mess from earlier, there’s a tea stain I hadn’t noticed until we were on the way here, and yesterday there was whipped cream painting my Pinocchio-length nose.
I push from my seat.
If he thinks I’m going to sit through this bullshit, he’s got another thing coming.
“Wait… I’m scaring you, aren’t I?” he asks, his brows etched inward, giving off that “family man” vibe I first thought of when I saw him.
I pause, halfway between sitting back down and standing up.
“Yes, to be frank.”
“I’m sorry. I’m not good at… this part.”
I ease my way back into my seat.
“What part?”
“Talking.” He laughs at himself, toying with the corner of his menu.
“I’m a very forward person.”
“You don’t say,” I joke, referring to not only his blurting problem but the kiss.
The dimple in his left cheek dips in, and my stomach flutters start to relax.
He seems to have found the casual air between us as well, leaning in his seat.
“What do you want in life?”
“What?”
He grins.
“I want a family. ”
“So you said.”
“A wife, kids. I want people to love and to spoil. I want to go on long road trips where everyone fights, yet we still have a good time. I want three dogs and a big backyard. I see people with those things, and I can’t help but think… yeah, I’m happy. But that? That’s joy .”
I raise an amused eyebrow.
“That’s quite the Hallmark movie.”
He laughs.
“Maybe.” He reaches for his baseball cap, pulling it from his messy, blond head.
His hand runs through the strands, temporarily distracting me from our conversation.
“So… I come off a little strong,” he continues.
“I’m not good at beginnings. Asking a woman out, dating, flirting… However, I think I’d be a great ender.”
My eyes narrow as I process.
His tactic feels like conversational whiplash.
Have to say, never met one like him and it’s…
well, it’s adorable.
“This isn’t a business brunch, is it?”
An unexpected, yet very attractive blush rushes over his face.
“It’s all tied together, I promise. I thought I’d clear things up first.”
“Honestly, I’m more confused than enlightened at this point.”
He sits up.
“All right… here it is. I was running yesterday, enjoying the scenery and trying not to get consumed with thoughts of whether or not the gorgeous woman who lives on my new route would be outside. I considered avoiding her street altogether until I caught sight of her, checking mail on a Sunday, dancing with her mug and whipped cream on her nose. She finally said good morning as I ran past, and I nearly fell on my ass. I’d never heard a voice so beautiful, so enchanting, that I just… well… I kissed her, partly out of fear that I was imagining things, but mostly because I’d lost my damn mind.” He tilts his head as if he just spouted off something as trivial as the weather.
“Now that I know she’s very real, I want her to know where I stand in case I don’t get another chance.”
It takes me several moments to catch my breath, to process the words that are continuing to spin me around on a turn-table.
I think I’ve found my exact opposite—a man with no pretense, no small talk or flirtatious dance.
A man who just lays his entire hand on the table and hopes for the best. I admire that, even if I could never pull it off.
My breath comes out in a shaky whoosh as I reach for my drink.
“‘Forward’ doesn’t do you justice, does it?”
He grins, his tight shoulders relaxing in a stance that makes me wonder how many people are put off by his social faux pas.
“I’ve been told.”
The waitress chooses that very convenient moment to take our orders.
I change mine to something much heartier than I originally planned.
If he can be himself, then I damn well will be myself.
“Am I still scaring you?” he asks, concern swimming in his pretty blue eyes.
“No.” I let out a bemused chuckle.
I used to dream of these impossible men—men I’d convinced myself didn’t exist. I did such a good job selling the concept to myself that I hardly believe a word coming out of his mouth, and even if I did believe him, I’m set in my ways.
I swirl my straw around in my glass of apple juice.
“Interesting that you pick a woman who isn’t interested in family at all.”
The corner of his mouth twitches.
“You a cat person?” he jokes.
“Yes, among other things.”
“Cynic?”
“Maybe.”
He leans forward, sending a rush of warmth through my abdomen.
“Does it scare you? The thought of something steady?”
I take a sip from my juice to stall.
Yes, the whole thing scares me.
I’ve seen firsthand what that life looks like, how frazzled my siblings are with their little ones, how every day is scheduled around everyone else instead of yourself.
I think of how I used to picture what Cooper described mere minutes ago—a Hallmark movie, and I wanted it.
But as time ticked on and I had no prospects, I planted my feet firmly in reality.
My career is my family.
It sounds pathetic said out loud, but it’s where I found my happy ending.
I set my glass back down.
“No,” I lie, then let out a breath.
“You’re not much for small talk, are you?”
He shakes his head at the table cloth.
“Told you, I’m a real amateur at beginnings.”
“You going to propose by the end of this meal?” I tease.
“Tell me you love me?”
He grins, settling in his seat and stretching his arms behind his head.
“You’re making fun of me.”
“Yes.”
“That’s okay. I know I’m unconventional.”
“Are we going to actually discuss business now?” I push a smile back, oblivious to the natural way it forms, even during this “unconventional” conversation.
He lets his arms drop.
“I’m looking at the property up on Rose Summit, like Parks said earlier,” he says, surprising me by diving in without argument.
A wave of disappointment rushes over me, but I shake it off and straighten in my seat.
“I can set up a walkthrough,” I tell him, bringing my phone to the table.
“I’m not married to it, though,” he says as I drag my fingers around my keypad.
“I wouldn’t mind another property near that area if it becomes available.”
I bite my lip in thought, pausing in my text message to the seller.
That house is beautiful, and I don’t mind showing it, but there are several plots farther east that would give him privacy.
Something quiet and spacious.
“How firm are you on not building?”
“Oh, I’m not budging on that.”
“Why?” I go bold, since he’s already started us off on that foot.
His mouth turns upward into a slow, amused smile, and I figure he likes my approach.
“I’m not patient enough for that.”
I let out a small laugh, going back to drafting my text.
“With your bottomless pockets, it may be faster to build than to buy. ”
“I’m not creative enough either,” he adds.
“I didn’t major in interior design, exactly. I know next to nothing about architecture, and I’m not great at making decisions based on concepts alone.” His grin slips from casual to playful.
“When I see something I like, then I go for it.”
A rush of arousal shoots right up there between the legs, and I swallow hard.
“You… you can hire people to do all that for you,” I tell him, clicking send on the message and setting my phone on the table.
When my gaze lifts to meet his, he’s donning an amused and…
enchanted expression.
It’s one I’m unsure if I should be flattered by or intimidated by.
I’m leaning toward the former.
He shrugs, breaking eye contact.
“Want to know how I reached financial stability?”
“I’m always in the mood for budgeting tips.”
He smiles at my response, then waves me in as if he’s spouting off monetary gold and I’m the only one privy to the info.
“I only invest in things I know I want.”
Our eyes connect, and I watch those dark blue irises twinkle in a way I’ve only witnessed from a few men from my past. The familiar caffeine bubbles of attraction rise up under my skin, drying my throat and wetting my appetite.
I allow myself a moment to entertain naked ideas, most of which take place right here on this table.
I blink, shaking my head and pulling away.
“And you don’t want an interior designer? A gardener?” An off-sounding laugh escapes me.
“I assumed you already had staff in spades.”
“I believe in trying things myself first.” He takes a long pull from his water.
“Only reason I hired a realtor is because I read about a page into a very thick book on buying a house before realizing it was not going to be something I could fudge my way through.”
“Wise decision.” I lean back as our waitress puts our food in front of us.
A dip of guilt hits my stomach at the small error in judgment I had when I switched my order.
Cooper, however, seems very excited about what I’ve chosen to eat.
His blue eyes light up as they scan over my hearty meal for more-than-one.
He thanks our waitress and immediately reaches for one of my slices of bacon.
I tap his knuckles. “You have your own.”
“Yours looks crispier.”
I point a warning with my fork, and he laughs and settles in with his meal.
The exchange has a strange aftertaste—strange because it doesn’t feel strange.
In my scarce dating life, I’ve yet to fight over food; it’s not exactly something that happens early on.
Another perk of only dipping your toes into relationships.
Yet, I don’t seem to mind that it was his automatic response.
Feeling brave and perhaps a little curious, I reach across the table for a succulent-looking strawberry sitting atop his three-stack pancake plate.
He doesn’t blink an eye as I fork the fruit and bring it to my mouth.
“You can answer that if it’s important,” he says, nodding to my phone.
I blink away my fascination at his indifference to a near stranger picking from his plate and turn to my buzzing cell.
It’s Sarah, messaging every few seconds because the open house starts in twenty.
I quickly message her to take point on it, then swipe over to the response to the house showing request.
“You’re in luck,” I tell him with a smile.
“I can show you the house on Rose Summit this afternoon.”
He grins over a mouthful of pancake, something I’d never in my life thought I’d find attractive, but he somehow pulls it off.
“Wonderful.”
I don’t know how he did it, but now that the business portion is over—for the most part—I find myself hoping he brings up some more deep conversation.
Not that one person has changed my stance on the subject; I’m more curious than anything else.
I’ve never had these conversations, never gotten past the beginning to see what the middle or end even looked like.
Ends to me played out like a mutual falling away once we realized we’d done all we could do with each other.
I never felt like I was used and thrown away, because I never got close enough to someone to feel that way.
I never wanted to. So why am I even considering talking about life, relationships, and the like with a man who obviously is heading down a different direction?
“Is there a policy against dating clients?” he asks, his mouth now free of food.
I internally laugh at the relief I feel that he’s back to being so blunt.
It’s mighty entertaining.
“It’s frowned upon,” I say, poking my fork into the yolk of my sunny-side-up.
“But there’s no official policy.”
“Do you have your own policy against it?”
I slowly shake my head.
“Haven’t needed one.”
“Hmm,” he murmurs, returning to his food.
“Interesting. ”
I set my fork down.
“For someone who rarely beats around the bush, you sure know how to do so when it’s the most annoying.”
He laughs.
“Well, I was waiting for the end of the meal to get down on one knee.” He winks, and I shake my head at my plate.
“At least you’re aware of your insanity.”
The dimple on his cheek dips suddenly before fading out entirely.
“To answer your previous question honestly, though… no, I won’t be telling you I love you. That sentiment is something worth waiting for.”
“Wow.” I bite back a smile, hiding behind another sip of juice.
“Something we agree on.”
There’s a nice, calming air between us that is somehow laced with a desire that I don’t too often feel.
He’s pulled a one-eighty on my view of him with one simple meal.
He’s right about one thing—he’s definitely a better ender.