Chapter 6
STEPHANIE
I’m pacing back and forth, but I can tell it isn’t going to help me sort out my thoughts this time.
“How long is that sad excuse for a prickly pear cactus going to stay?”
Sam is sitting in a deep oversized chair in the far corner of the bedroom eating potato chips. She knows I’m talking about Mallory. “Stephanie! I don’t know what happened between the two of you . . .”
“Nothing happened!”
“I’m not talking about last night—I’m talking about the way you’ve acted around him since you met. You’re always tense when he’s around, but this morning, it was even worse.”
“It doesn’t matter why.” It totally matters. “How long is he going to be here?”
“Probably as long as it takes for them to help Frank, but I don’t know how long that will be. I didn’t even think Cooper was getting here for a few more days, so that shows you how much I know.” She puts a few more potato chips in her mouth.
I pick up a pillow and let out a growl as I pummel it into the bed, trying to erase the memory that I slept here with Mallory last night.
“I can’t believe he was sleeping in this bed—and it turns out that I crawled into bed with him.
Is there anything more ironic than that?
” I stop abusing the pillow and fall, face first, onto the bed.
Sam understands and sends a sympathetic look, just as there’s a knock on the bedroom door.
“Stephanie?” Another knock. “Can I come in and talk to you?” Mallory’s baritone voice flows through the closed door.
I hate the way it reverberates in my chest. How many women have fallen at his feet simply from the sound of it?
Out of sheer stubbornness, I decide to not answer him.
Instead, I pick up the glass of water on the nightstand.
I don’t want to drink it; I just want something in my hands to fidget with.
“Steph, I want to say that I’m sorry if I was rude earlier. I was both sleep deprived and hungry, which is a bad combination for me.”
I drag myself off the bed, bringing my glass of water with me.
I walk over to the door and briskly throw it open.
Unfortunately, Cooper had been fully leaning on the door with his forehead, and he unexpectedly tumbles into the room, falling against me and sending us both careening for the floor.
I land on my back with an oomph. Cooper lands halfway on top of me, his chest on my shoulder and one arm wrapped around me, with the rest of him on the floor next to me.
We both freeze in surprise and stare at each other for a moment before a commotion catches our attention.
Sam is desperately trying—and, due to her eight-months-pregnant body, failing—to get out of the deep oversized chair.
“Steph . . .” Her potato chips slowly spill out of the bag and onto her lap and the floor as she tries to come to my aid.
“Steph! Are you . . .” She struggles for a few more seconds before finally sitting back with a sound of exasperation.
Any concern she originally had seems to have melted now that she realizes neither of us are writhing in pain.
She looks annoyed and brushes the spilt potato chips off her lap.
“Can I assume neither of you have broken anything?”
I’m still processing what happened and haven’t found my voice yet, so it’s Mallory that finally speaks. “Steph? Are you okay?”
My attention snaps to him at the mention of my name.
“What? Me? I . . .” My brain finally catches up to Sam’s question.
“Yes. I mean no. I mean, I’m fine. You .
. .” My face is so close to Mallory’s that I can see golden flecks in his eyes that I’ve never noticed before.
Then again, it’s not like I’ve been this close to his face before.
I quickly shake my head to clear the weary realization that I have been this close to his face before, because this is not the first time I have literally fallen for Mallory.
Sam’s matter-of-fact tone pierces the air. “That was fun.”
Mallory laughs at this and, because his chest is still on top of my shoulder, the vibration ripples through my entire body. Adding to the effect, I look up and see a disarmingly genuine smile across his face. I close my eyes tight and, once again, fight between what I see and what I’ve heard.
Sam finally figures out how to get out of her chair and stands up as straight as an eight-months-pregnant woman can.
“I’m going to leave and let the two of you duke this out.
All I ask is that you replace anything you might break if you start throwing things at each other.
” With that, Sam waddles out of the room and into the kitchen.
Cooper stands up, reaches a hand down to assist me, and freezes, his eyes locked on my chest. Then his look jumps to my face.
I look down and for the first time remember that I had been holding a glass of water when I opened the door.
It’s obvious that during the recent collision, said water was bumped and spilled on my chest. My shirt is incredibly wet.
In most circumstances, that would be labeled an inconvenience.
This, however, I’m going to label a catastrophe: I am wearing not only a pale-yellow T-shirt but also an electric-blue bra, which is now shining through the fabric of my T-shirt like a lighthouse ready to guide ships in from miles away.
I scamper to my feet and throw both arms across my chest as if I were naked. “You didn’t see that!”
Cooper simply looks down at the floor, sucking in his lips in an effort to stop a stupid grin from spreading further across his face. The gall. He also tries to stifle a laugh—which is a muffled failure—and his chest and shoulders shake with suppressed laughter.
“Don’t. Say. A word.”
He stays silent, but my embarrassment level doesn’t change. This is DEFCON-One-level humiliating.
“This is such a crying baby on a plane!” I whisper under my breath.
He smiles at me, which makes it worse.
“Why are you smiling at me like that?”
“I’m sorry.” He gets his smile under control. “But I like it when you say things like that.” His shoulder sheepishly lifts, then drops.
“Why are you here, Mallory?”
“First, let me apologize about,” he gestures to the door and then the floor, but as he starts to gesture at my shirt, he thinks better of it and puts his hand in his pocket, “all of that. I had no idea you were going to throw the door open so quickly.” I can only nod in recognition of his apology.
“But I was actually coming in here to apologize for this morning. I could have been more polite and understanding of how awkward the situation was.”
I collect myself, set aside all of my pride, and accept his apology.
“I appreciate that.” I’m uncomfortable and decide to mirror him by putting my hands in my pockets as well.
“I wasn’t very nice to you either, and .
. .” Mallory is looking directly into my face again, fighting another smile.
I realize that my arms are no longer covering my chest. “Don’t look!
” My arms fly back into place, covering as much blue as they can.
“I’m not looking on purpose, but it’s so blue!
” He physically turns around to openly laugh—as if that’s going to stop me from hearing it.
Wheeling back around, his eyes bright with a challenge, he teases, “Come on, Stephanie. It’s funny.
” He spreads his arms wide, palms up, like he’s trying to catch a confession.
It’s a silent plea for me to cave and laugh, and one I will not bend to.
I take back all of the pride I set aside a moment ago and wrap it around me like a force field. “I’ve already accepted your apology. Was there anything else you needed?”
“Nope. That was it.” He nods and heads for the door. “I really am sorry.” He’s almost all the way through the door when he calls back over his shoulder, “But it really was funny.”
I close the door and lean back against the wall, slowly sliding down until I’m sitting on the floor. Groaning, I look down at my wet shirt, brightly colored bra in full view. “How is it possible that something like this would happen to me again?”