Chapter Eighteen
With Cooper’s tooth fixed and his brain back to normal, the next few days pass by in a blur of work and sex.
Twice now at the same time.
It’s my very sore attempt to try to prove to him that the fun part of a relationship is the sparkly first few days in.
And when that doesn’t work, I prowl around in a very sluggish fashion, being as unladylike and uncensored as possible.
Last night when he caught me spitting an impressive amount of toothpaste and saliva into the sink, spraying the faucet and his hand, he just looked at me with those gorgeous blues and said, “You’re adorable” and then wiped his hand off.
“Cooper,” I breathe, my voice getting caught in my throat as a surge of pleasure courses through me.
My hands trip over a table full of paint supplies as I try to keep myself from tumbling to the floor.
“A condom, babe. We need a—”
“I know, I got it.” He smiles against my lips, his hand snaking out from under my skirt to retrieve the foil package from his pocket.
It takes me too long to realize I’ve uttered a pet name at him, and by the time I feel like I should take it back, he erases every thought I’ve ever had.
I think it’s the only cure for the terrifying notion that Cooper may just be the real thing I never wanted to find.
Whenever there has been a moment when I feel that inexplicable emotion I can’t put words to, I jump him, eager to have my mind erased completely.
This time… well, he only asked me to meet him at his office building so we could go to a showing I set up for him.
Instead I caught him in the middle of splashing paint over a giant canvas in one of the side rooms. His eyes were dark and sad, and I instantly felt myself swirling into sorrow with him without even knowing if there was anything wrong.
Back when Julie first met Nathan, my mother asked her how she could fall in love so quickly, how she knew it was love that she felt.
Julie told her that she feels everything Nathan feels, wants everything he wants, needs him as much as he needs her.
As that description started making more and more sense looking into Cooper’s sad eyes, I crossed the room and brought his lips to mine before I could give it any more thought.
He didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. In fact, he’s in a much better mood.
“Hi,” he breathes, his hand releasing the crook of my knee now that we’ve both been to our peak and back.
“Hi.”
“I’d say I’m happy to see you, but that doesn’t accurately describe it.”
I smooth down my skirt.
“Having a rough day?”
He nods, turning around to take care of his own wardrobe.
“I found some fraudulent charges on one of our accounts. If it’s who I think it is…” He lets out a long sigh, a soft smile somewhere in the worry lines of his face.
“He’s a good friend. ”
“A good friend doesn’t steal from you,” I point out, trying to be helpful, grateful once again for Cooper’s straightforward personality; he can so boldly talk about what is bothering him.
I do not possess that particular quality.
“I know.” He runs a hand through his hair.
“I want to talk to Robbie first. See what he thinks.”
“I can wait,” I tell him.
“The place I’m showing you is vacant. We can leave whenever you’re ready.”
He presses a gentle kiss to my forehead, so contradictory to our hard and fast romp not two minutes ago.
It throws me, because I can’t help but appreciate how wonderful both displays of affection are.
“Actually, if you want…” He stops and shakes his head.
“Never mind.”
“What?”
“Well, this room was set up to get these canvases painted for an ad we’re shooting. If you feel like playing around, that’d help us out.”
I snort and let my eyes drift over all the different colors on the table my butt was up against. “I don’t paint.”
“Neither do I.” He jokingly nods to the splash of blue he chucked at the far back, wall-length canvas.
“Guess I’m a natural.”
Before I can give him crap about his painting skills, he pushes a quick kiss to my lips and heads down the hall.
I crook my neck, letting my gaze follow until he’s no longer in sight.
Poor guy. I know how it feels to have to fire a friend.
I set my hand to my heart and push away the sorrow that’s starting to creep back in there.
I’m only empathizing.
Yes. It couldn’t possibly be because I’m feeling what he’s feeling just because I’m strongly attracted to him.
Yet, it’s the first time I’ve watched him leave a room without checking out his ass.
I shake my head, feeling ridiculous.
He hasn’t proved anything, really.
Our experiment so far has been…
fun . If this is his definition of a long term relationship, maybe I could handle it.
Even taking him to the dentist wasn’t boring in the slightest.
It's just because our relationship is young. I’m infatuated, is all. Infatuation: a foolish and extravagant admiration.
Yet, that word doesn’t seem to fit.
I growl under my breath and head out the door, following in his footsteps. The urge to calm my ragged breathing is too strong to just sit and wait. He’s worried, so I’m worried, and I’m not going to try to figure out why that is.
I stop when I hear Robbie’s voice billowing from an open office door, and I rest against the hallway wall and try to look inconspicuous.
“Why are you even hesitating?” he says, and I hear a thick file hit a desk. “Fire his ass, then sue it for good measure. I’m about ready to get our lawyer on the phone.”
“Whatever happened to giving people the benefit of the doubt?” Cooper says, his voice vibrating somewhere deep in my chest. “He’s been with us for a long time.”
“Probably means he’s stolen way more than we should’ve let him get away with. ”
Cooper’s quiet for a moment. “I know.” He sighs. “I know, you’re right, I just… This is gonna be messy. He’s got a family. Little kids at home.”
“Then he shouldn’t have taken the risk. Damn it, Coop, don’t get soft. We all got problems.”
“It’s not about being soft. It’s about knowing all of that and still wanting to take him to court. It’s about being his friend for years only to put him on the street. It’s pennies to us, yet I want to wring his neck. What does that say about me? Firing him feels so… heartless.”
Robbie chuckles, but that sound only guts me from the inside out. I clutch at my chest, push back the sting behind my eyes, and try to calm my breathing. No one has a bigger heart than Cooper, and to hear him talk so openly about how he feels he doesn’t have one? It ruins me. I want to break down the door and assure him otherwise and give Robbie a glare over his blasé reaction for good measure.
“You want to talk heartless, bro? Stealing from the guy who gave you a job, and not just any job, but a lucrative career? Now that’s pretty damn heartless.”
I drop my hand in the silence that follows and let it swing like a pendulum down by my side. This isn’t my concern; it’s Cooper and Robbie’s and my opinions here don’t matter. My nose is buried deep into things I know nothing about, and I can’t know any more about. Cooper and I are separate entities; he owes me no explanation and I owe him nothing when it comes to the day to day stresses. That is marital relations, serious couple talks, not for two people playing house. I force myself back to the canvas-filled office, trying to convince myself that I don’t care.
It doesn’t work. I care all too much, no matter how frightening that is.
***
A strip of light streams across the canvas, turning the colors I carefully selected into bright hues that completely contrast. I chuckle at the painting, brush poised between my thumb and forefinger. A blue droplet falls onto my knuckle, and I let it streak down to the back of my wrist along with several of its friends. I believe there is more art on my hand than made by it.
“Well, you can rule out painter for your retirement plan,” Cooper says from the doorway.
I turn with a frown. “Don’t like my interpretation of a midday horizon?”
“Oh, I do. Especially the signature.”
My name resembles that of a kindergartner, scribbled across the entire bottom of the canvas in black. It covers the original signature in orange that was, believe it or not, much worse on the eyes.
He chuckles, pushing off the doorframe and wrapping his arms around my waist. “Thank you. I’ll make sure it’s in the back of the shoot.”
“The way back.”
I feel his smile on my neck, and based on touch alone, I know it’s a lackluster grin.
I swivel in his arms. “You ready to go?”
“Just about.” He pushes his forehead against mine. “I have one more conversation ahead of me, but I had to see you first.”
The words I overheard ping around in my head, and I let out a sigh and run a hand over his chest. He has no idea just how wonderful his heart is, how I wish I had one just like it.
I pull at buttons of his shirt, undoing just the top few to expose the white undershirt hugging his pectorals. Careful not to get any bit of his clothing, I tug the material down with one hand and hold it out of the way while I push the tip of the paintbrush against his chest.
The brush leaves a broken path along his skin, flecks of paint speckling his arm as I form the only shape I know how to paint correctly.
“What’s this?” he asks, his lip crooked up in an adorable half-smile.
“A heart.”
“Yes…” He chuckles. “Why are you painting it on my skin?”
I let out a breath, pulling the brush away to study my work. “I would hate to think that because you have to make some hard decisions today, that you start to doubt you have one.”
He meets my gaze, the amused glint in his eyes slowly fading into something else entirely. The power behind his stare sucks the breath straight from my lungs, causing my heart to work that much harder to keep me upright.
“You heard?”
I lift a shoulder. “A little. You mad?”
His hand covers mine still poised near his chest, fingers weaving and making me lose my grip. The paint brush tumbles end over end to the floor, forever staining the carpet with this moment that somehow already feels significant. The small of my back warms with his touch as he pulls me even closer, our bodies melding in a comfort comparable to a warm bed on a cold morning.
He takes the first step into a soft waltz, and I follow his lead, grinning against his chest in a sweet realization that this is another thing I didn’t believe I wanted, or would ever enjoy, yet I find myself wanting to stay under the covers, in a manner of speaking. Impromptu dancing to nonexistent music was more likely to happen in the movies, never to someone as unromantic as I am.
My fingers tighten between his, and I leave the foreign emotion I feel in this moment unspoken, though I’m pretty sure I’ve discovered exactly what it is.