Chapter 9
9
Isla
THE CREEKERY WAS beyond packed. Way more crowded than she expected it to be. Even on a Friday night.
Cowboys of all ages were packed into every corner, trolling for pretty girls to sweet talk into taking them home. It was nearly impossible to take a step without running into a hard chest, a solid shoulder, or a scuffed pair of boots.
Too bad none of them appealed to her. Not that it mattered anyway since she didn’t seem to appeal to them either.
Her time with Cooper had started to make her feel like she wasn’t as undesireable as her ex had claimed. But sitting there, not a single set of eyes even drifting her way, it was easy to fall back into the funk Eric’s rejection had sunk her into. Easy to let him start to taint her life—and her confidence—all over again.
“What’s wrong, honey?” Gertrude leaned close, giving Isla’s thigh a pat. “I recognize that look on your face. Is there some man we need to hunt down and roll up in a rug?”
The offer was tempting, but distance made considering it pointless. Her first ever friend group wasn’t exactly cross-country murder plot material. Now, if she wanted someone within reach assaulted with a cane, they were for sure up to the task.
Plus, being completely honest with herself, she didn’t care enough about Eric’s continued existence to put the effort into making him disappear. Would it possibly save another woman from the same fate she suffered? Maybe.
But it’s also possible common sense would do the same thing.
That’s what had worked against her. She’d started dating him when she was too young to see a guy like him coming. Too innocent and too immature to expect things to go the way they did. And—again being honest with herself—Eric hadn’t always been the arrogant twerp he turned into. He’d been just as young and clueless as she was when they first got together.
At what point things changed was anyone’s guess, but it no longer mattered the way it once did. She had more important things to worry about.
Like how the heck long these women were going to expect her to stay awake.
“I’m just tired.” Isla took another sip of her cola, deflecting Gertrude’s original insinuation with a bit of truth, and hoping the caffeine would give her the jolt she needed to make it through the night.
Never in her wildest dreams could she have imagined a group of grandmas would like to party as much as the Bridge Bitches did. Based on what she’d seen over the past few hours, the girls could drink just about anyone under the table, and might easily close down the bar. They were living the kind of life she probably should have been enjoying for the past three years. A life that didn’t involve working her ass off thinking it would all pay off and that one day soon she’d be living the white picket fence life she dreamed of.
But maybe on some level she’d been on the right track, because going out wasn’t nearly as appealing as she thought it would be.
It was loud. It was stuffy. The floor was sticky and she was starting to get claustrophobic. Girls’ night was turning out to be nowhere near as fun as spending the night on the couch in her comfy pants watching Netflix was.
“Don’t you be upset over a mediocre man, honey.” Betty reached across the table to grab her hand. “I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but you lucked out. Dodged a bullet that would have ruined your life.”
She’d heard similar sentiments from just about everyone who knew what happened between her and Eric. Her parents. Her cousins. Grady and Evelyn. They all told her she was better off. And she believed it. Knew what they were saying was true.
But tonight she didn’t really care. Eric wasn’t her primary focus anymore.
That position had been claimed by someone much more worthy of it. Someone better looking. Someone funnier. Someone more interesting. Someone all around superior to the man she wasted almost a decade on.
“I know.” Isla gave Betty a smile, but her eyes drifted around the bar, looking past the annoyingly congested cowboys in search of a dark-haired man wearing a uniform.
Cooper had said he might stop by. He was working, but she’d hoped there might be a little wiggle room in his shift where he could sneak in and make an appearance. Just a quick hello to help take the edge off her boredom and the overstimulation starting to make her skin itch.
But the minutes were ticking past and it was looking less and less likely that would be happening. Pulling out her cell phone, she checked to make sure she hadn’t missed a text from him, but not a single alert populated her screen.
Disappointment tugged at her gut, feeding off the insecurities creeping back in as all the cowboys in the place continued looking everywhere but at her.
Was she really that bad? Really that unappealing? Even after the effort she’d put in to look cute?
Instead of leggings, she’d pulled on her favorite pair of fitted jeans. A slouchy shirt that draped off one shoulder in a way she thought might be sexy replaced the hoodie she practically lived in. She’d even flat-ironed her hair and brushed on a coat of mascara.
Still, not one single man gave her the time of day.
And the worst part of it? Her desire to be noticed was purely superficial. She didn’t have any interest in the men packed into The Creekery like sardines. Even looking them over now, none of them stood out the way Cooper did. None of them caught her attention or made her want to know more about them.
Sighing, she reached for her glass and picked it up, wrapping her lips around the straw. Sucking hard to pull in as much sugar as possible, her mouth filled with nothing but slightly cool air. She looked down to find only ice staring back at her instead of the carbonated cola she was hoping for.
The empty glass was disappointing, but it also explained her full bladder. First she’d deal with one, then the other.
Pushing back her chair, Isla stood. “I’m going to run to the bathroom real quick.”
The girls were hunched close together, discussing something in low voices. Probably some secret potluck recipes no one else was supposed to know the ingredients to, so she left them to it and began working her way through the crowd.
Unsurprisingly, not a single man stopped her as she aimed for the ladies’ room. If anything, they seemed to avert their eyes and step out of her path. Parting like she was some sort of pariah, adding another ding to her bruised ego.
Ducking into the bathroom, she did her business and washed her hands. Taking one last look in the mirror to smooth down her dark hair, she pushed on a smile, knowing it wouldn’t make a lick of difference. As much as she hated to admit it, Eric was obviously right in his assessment of her. His claims were being proven true in real time, and fuck if it didn’t sting.
Stepping out into the main portion of the bar, she was greeted by an unexpected sight. A handful of cowboys were actually looking directly at her.
Maybe she wasn’t as invisible as she thought.
One of them pointed in her direction. “There she is.”
He sounded almost accusatory. Like she’d done something wrong. She was already feeling out of her element, so his strange tone and the sudden focus on her had unease brewing in her belly.
“Umm. What’s going on?”
Instead of answering her question, the pointing cowboy stepped away as she moved closer, looking a little frantic as he repeated himself, continuing to jab that accusing finger. “She’s right here.”
Isla turned to peer behind her, hoping she was maybe—once again—completely wrong about a man’s focus, but there was no one behind her. Just the empty bathroom hall.
What the heck was going on?
When she turned back, the cowboy was out of sight, blocked from view by a broad chest. She didn’t have to lift her eyes to know who it belonged to. The dark color of the uniform and the badge fastened to it narrowed the pool down considerably.
She lifted her eyes to Cooper’s, the air rushing out of her lungs as her shoulders relaxed. “You’re here.”
“I am.” His lips lifted in a small smile. “And it seems like I got here just in time.” He tipped his head in the direction of the table the girls occupied. “They were about to start some shit while you were gone, but I broke things up before it could get anywhere.”
Isla frowned. “Really?”
Cooper tipped his head in a nod, his smile lifting a little more. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but they try to start a fight pretty much every time they go out.”
That had her eyes going wide. “ Every time?”
Shouldn’t someone have filled her in on that little tidbit of information? Maybe given her a heads-up that being their designated driver also involved being a personal bouncer?
“Every time.” Cooper rested one hand on the small of her back, his palm wide and warm against her body as he directed her through the crowd, back toward the table where the girls sat, looking like chastised children.
Isla inched closer to his side, lowering her voice as much as she could given the volume of the bar around them. “Did you yell at them?”
“Yes.” He grinned. “But that’s not what they’re mad about.”
She looked around the group as they got closer, trying to discern their expressions. “What are they mad about?”
“They’re mad because I told them they’d have to go home early if they couldn’t act right.” As they reached the table, Cooper turned his smile onto the scowling group. “Have we calmed down any?”
Muriel glared at him. “Careful, or you’ll be the next one to get the business end of my cane.”
“Really?” Cooper pulled out the chair Isla had occupied, holding it as she sat down then dragging another one over from the next table. “Are you seriously threatening to assault an on-duty police officer?” He sat down in the newly-acquired seat, scooting around a little until he was close enough his knee rested against hers. “Because I’m pretty sure that’s not how you want this night to go.”
Muriel met his gaze, leaning against the table as her eyes narrowed. “I don’t think you picked up what I was putting down, Officer Staks.” One brow angled as she glanced Isla’s way then refocused on Cooper. “Maybe you need to think about your own actions a little bit before you start causing problems.”
Cooper continued staring Muriel down for a second before his expression changed, a hint of surprise flashing across his features. Leaning back, he shifted in his seat. “No idea what you’re talking about.”
“Mm-hmm.” Muriel lifted her chin, a smug smile curving her lips. “Sure you don’t.”
Isla grabbed her drink, sucking down a few gulps to distract herself from the tension tightening around the table. She was three swallows in when her eyes dropped to the glass, brows pinching together as she remembered her whole reason for needing to hit the ladies’. Wasn’t this empty when she left?
“I told Paige to keep them coming,” Cooper murmured in her ear. “I know it’s not tequila, but maybe it’ll be enough to help you survive tonight.” He took a sip from his own glass of water before leaning back in conspiratorially. “Especially if Muriel gets the barfs.”
A little laugh snuck free as she peeked his way.
Only to discover Cooper’s expression was serious.
“Oh God.” Isla widened her eyes at him. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”
“I can’t help it.” Muriel lifted her chin. “Some nights my tummy just gets a little upset.”
“It’s got nothing to do with your tummy.” Gertrude pointed at the sugary cocktail in front of Muriel. “You just can’t hold your liquor.”
“Don’t worry.” Betty gave Cooper a sweet smile as she batted her eyes. “Officer Staks always keeps extra puke bags in his car.”
That was good news. On two counts. Because, for one thing, she didn’t come prepared for anyone to heave on the drive home. Plus, it offered a reminder she already needed—Cooper was prepared for tonight because, as one of Moss Creek’s finest, he’d been assigned the task before.
That’s why he was there. Because he was being paid to be. It was his job. Nothing more. He wasn’t any more interested in her than the other men in Moss Creek. Not romantically anyway. They were just friends.
And that was… Great. Nice. Fine.
It only made sense that he would see her as that and nothing more. She was at least ten years younger than he was, didn’t have any sort of goals or plans for her life, and—as Eric so kindly pointed out when he ripped the rug out from under her—was boring and reserved and as unsexy as it got.
But damned if she didn’t wish, just a little bit, it could be different. That she was the kind of woman Cooper could—would—see as something more.
Because the more time she spent with him, the harder it was to keep her own feelings in the friendly zone. Especially with him sitting so close, smelling so good, and making her feel so settled. Now that he was there, the bar seemed less loud. The prospect of staying awake seemed less daunting. The congestion seemed less smothering.
She was so focused on Cooper, she didn’t immediately notice one of the many ranch hands in the bar had veered toward their table, looking a little unsteady in his boots as his path aimed right for where she sat. She tensed in preparation for collision, but before he could get close, her chair moved across the floor, dragging away in a jerking sort of movement that had her jumping in surprise.
Cooper shot the obviously drunk cowboy a dirty look and the other man redirected his path, heading in the opposite direction. Once the coast was clear, she expected Cooper to push her chair back into position, but he left her where she was—tucked right up against him, the seats of their chairs tight together. Now, instead of simply touching knees, their thighs were practically fused, the warmth of Cooper’s leg heating hers.
She gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks. I thought that guy was going to plow right into me.”
“He wanted to plow right into part of you,” one of the girls mumbled from behind a drink, the words so hushed she must have misheard.
“The ranch hands get a little rowdy.” Cooper’s gaze skimmed the space around them, his expression hard as he made eye contact with a few of the men in question.
“They’re definitely loud.” She leaned closer as another man moved past, coming uncomfortably close to dragging against her as he went. “And they don’t seem to have any sense of personal space.”
Cooper’s jaw set and he stood, moving to stand behind her. He tipped his head at his abandoned stool. “Switch seats with me.”
He didn’t have to ask her twice. Whatever would get her out of their way was fine by her.
Isla shifted her butt from one stool to the other, relaxing a little more now that she was no longer right at the edge of the crowd and Cooper’s big body stood between her and everyone else.
“Thank you.” Isla gave Cooper a smile as he sat down in her former spot, his body just as close as it was before.
“Pretty sure you don’t have to thank him.” Betty’s tone was dry as she crossed both arms over her chest, eyes leveled on Cooper.
“She’s right.” Cooper met Betty’s almost glare as he reminded her why he was there. “I’m just doing my job.”