Chapter 15 Mae
Mae
Cooper didn’t bother asking me if I needed a ride. He just … handled it for me.
When we were both tired of dancing, he waved goodbye to some friends and held my hand as he made a way for us out of the Wooden Cowboy.
June was long gone, so I couldn’t ask her for a ride. But I have to admit, maybe things worked out for the best. I like that he jumped in to help me.
I push the feelings of yet another rejection down, even though Jacob was a total skeeze. Which yet again makes me question my ability to discern if someone is good for me.
Cooper goes to the passenger side of his truck and opens the door for me. He holds out his hand to help me up into it and closes the door after me.
I buckle myself in and watch him round the hood. When he gets in, he sets his hat on the dashboard.
“Can I ask you something?”
Cooper nods and buckles himself in.
“Why is Jacob such a bad guy, other than the obvious? June told me he was bad news, but didn’t explain why.”
“As you experienced yourself, he’s terrible with women, and that’s putting it nicely. But he’s involved in illegal activities. There is a lot of gossip in this town, but a lot of it is also true about Kensington Ranch,” Cooper says.
My heart twists in my chest. I dodged a bullet. “He told me he’s a ranch hand for them.”
“People say they see trucks coming and going from that land at all hours of the day and night. It doesn’t make sense for cattle ranchers.
They do a bit of farming, but not like that.
My cousin, Ledger, he’s the Sheriff. He’s mentioned a couple things about the Kensingtons.
I also saw something, and it was from afar.
I have no proof, but I swear Jacob was dealing in the parking lot of Bobby’s. ”
“The farm and feed store?” I ask him. I’ve driven past it a hundred times by now.
“Yep,” he says, driving through the downtown area to my house.
“Well, thank you for telling me, and … I’m sorry.”
“For what?” he asks.
“For telling you no,” I say.
He grins, still keeping his eyes on the road. “I’m not worried about it.”
I frown, staring at his profile, half illuminated by the screen in the center. “What does that mean?”
“It means I think our chemistry speaks for itself. But also, I like a challenge.”
“I’m not something to be conquered,” I say tightly. My attraction to him wanes a little because it’s been building all night.
“No, Mae, you’re someone to be earned.”
Heat pools in my stomach, and my mouth drops open. I don’t know how to respond, so I don’t and let the road be the sound between us.
When we get to my house, I start to get out of the truck, and Cooper reaches across me, closing the door. “Please. Let me,” he says.
I huff and stay where I am as Cooper jogs around the hood to open the door for me. He holds his hand out and helps me down.
“Thank you,” I rasp. I need water and a cold shower because all the feelings I pushed down are spraying through the cracks of my emotional bubble, and Cooper’s words keep rolling around in my head like a wrecking ball. I’m about to break and I don’t want him to be here to see it happen.
Cooper follows me to the door, and I unlock it.
“Smart girl,” he says.
I huff. “June wondered why I bothered.”
“Fair enough. But you’re out here alone. It’s smart. Uh, but you can call me if you need anything. Okay?”
I nod, even though I don’t have his phone number.
Cooper takes a step back from me and down one of the wood stares. “Goodnight, Mae,” he says, but hesitates, as if he wants to say something else, but I’m crumbling.
I feel exposed.
“Goodnight, Cooper, thank you for the ride.”
His chin dips, and I close the door behind me before collapsing to the floor and letting it all out. I cry for the shit show my date with Jacob was, and for the really crappy way it made me feel, even if it is for the best.
It doesn’t matter that I kept my composure and told him off with as much fake confidence as I could muster. Trying to date again, despite a whole different set of circumstances, made no difference, and I’m mad. I’m mad at myself for thinking I could.
What was I thinking trying to date when my past is nothing but failure?
I was serious when I told Cooper I have a bad track record.
Part of me thinks he assumed I was being humble.
But why would he want me? Why would I want me?
It doesn’t seem to matter how hard I work, or try, or put myself out there.
I keep being shoved back to step one, and I don’t think I’ll ever leave it.
Yet … Cooper.
Can I trust that he meant what he said? What if he asks me out again, and I tell him yes, then he’s disappointed?
I don’t think I could bear that. I don’t think I can take another hit to my battered confidence, and it’s barely breathing as it is.
I pull my phone from my pocket and start to call Mom.
Maybe hearing her voice will help. But my thumb pauses on the button, realizing the time.
I don’t want to wake her up because it’ll worry her.
And I worry about them, and then we’ll all spiral into a pit of worrying about each other. I just need to go to bed.
Pulling my tired spirit off the floor, I force myself to get ready for bed instead of grabbing a glass of wine and crying myself to sleep without washing my face. I’ll still probably cry myself to sleep, but at least my skin will be makeup-free.
Despite the train wreck of my date, I had a great time with Cooper, but I refuse to get my hopes up. In fact, I think it would be smart for me to go back to my original plan. But I know what they say about man’s plans.
***
I sigh and put my phone down, staring at the calendar on the corkboard in the shop office. It’s barely been a month. I don’t have new wedding clients, and I got a call for one funeral. Something has to change.
The shop phone rings and I realize it’s not on the desk and sprint to the front where it sits in the charge.
“Paxton Flower Shop, how can I help you?” I ask, breathing hard.
“Hi, I’d like to order a bouquet,” the man says.
I pull an order sheet and grab a pen. “Okay, and do you have a specific occasion?” I ask.
“Sort of, but I don’t know what kind of flowers would work,” he says.
“That’s alright. I can help with that. Could you tell me a little more about the event or person?”
“Uh, well, I’m trying to get her to go out with me, so I thought I’d send flowers.”
I smile and write the note down. “That’s very nice. Do you know if she likes a specific kind of flower or color, maybe?”
“I don’t, but I’m sure you’ll do a great job.”
I ask him a few more questions about budget, the size of the bouquet, and whether he wants it in a vase or not.
“I can deliver these later today. Is that alright?”
“Perfect,” he says.
I ask him for his card number over the phone and enter it in.
“Last thing, I need a delivery address, and do you want to send it with a note?”
“Sure, no problem. On the note, can you put, Mae, will you go out with me? And then put my phone number below it.”
I pause and pull the phone back from my ear. It doesn’t have caller ID. Maybe it’s another Mae. Weird.
I put the phone back up to my ear and write the note and the phone number he rattles off. “Okay, and do you want me to write who it’s from?”
“No, that’s okay.” He pauses. “She’ll know who they’re from.”
“Okay, and the delivery address.”
“1342 North State Road 94,” he says.
“Got it, and—” I stop, staring at the address.
“Cooper,” I sigh.
“Hey Mae, I hope you enjoy the flowers,” he says and hangs up the phone.
I stare at the little note I wrote to put in the bouquet. I didn’t recognize his voice over the phone. It’s not like I memorized it, even if I wanted to.
He bought me flowers.
I smile and rip the order sheet from the pad and tack it on the cork board so I can see it every morning.
I should refund his card.
But he went to all this trouble.
Instead of refunding his card, I take the gift for what it is and make myself a bouquet.
***
When I get home, I make myself some chicken and go through the stack of DVDs sitting in the entertainment center while mentally cursing myself for not calling the internet service to see if I can get satellite.
I’m tired of the internet dropping in and out while I’m working on my accounting job.
It’s making everything slower, and I can’t sacrifice the time delay.
My phone dings, and I slide Top Gun into the player and hit play.
When I sit on the couch, I grab my phone to check the text, and it’s from an unknown number.
Unknown: Have you thought about your answer?
Mae: I’m sorry, I think you have the wrong number.
Unknown: Did you enjoy the flowers?
Cooper. I add him to my contacts and respond.
Mae: I did, thank you. That was unnecessary.
Cooper: I wanted to do it.
Cooper: Sooo…
I stare at the screen and glance at the flowers he bought me, sitting in a vase on the side table next to the chair beside it. I picked some of my favorites and tried something new because I could. The gesture was sweet. No one has ever done something like that for me before.
Mae: How did you get my number?
Cooper: I see June nearly every day. She gave it to me because I begged her for it.
Mae: I see…
For some reason, I’m not bothered that he asked June for my number. I think if it were anyone else I would be, but part of me likes that he has it now. Though I’m wondering if it might backfire based on this current conversation.
Cooper: Take your time. Let me know.
I stare at the screen and start to type thirty different responses, but force myself to delete all of them. I don’t want to seem too eager and I need to give myself a chance to process.
June’s warning rings in the back of my head.
Not because I’m scared, but there’s a kid involved.
I’m sure dating looks a lot different for Cooper than any other man I’ve gone out with before.
I’ve never dated a guy with a kid. But I’m getting ahead of myself because I don’t know if this is the right move for me.
I eat a couple bites of dinner and get my notebook.
A pros and cons list. It’s smart, helps me organize my thoughts, and then I can make a decision after I sleep on it.
Pros, he’s really sweet, or at least has been to me.
Cons, is this really how he is? Though I don’t know if that’s officially a con, it seems unfair.
I tap my pencil against the notebook and move on.
Pros, he’s hot and I mean H-O-T hot. That cowboy hat does something for me.
Pros, he has always been respectful to me.
Cons, he’s maybe a little too charming. I don’t know if that’s a bad thing. Does that mean he’s a playboy?
Pros, he bought me flowers to ask me out.
Cons, he somehow got my phone number from my friend. Is that creepy? I don’t know. But June is also his cousin.
Pros, he’s patient.
Cons, I’m here for a year. He lives here, he has a daughter, and the last thing I want to do is create an issue. That’s not fair.
Cons, my track record is terrible.
Pros, he seems to be fine with the little information I gave him about said track record.
I stare at the page and count each one. The pros have it.
I groan and lean my head back on the sofa.
Top Gun plays in the background, and I force food down my throat, ignoring the movie. I shouldn’t leave him hanging. But I need to be honest with myself. Is this right, or am I scared of saying yes?