18. Nese
NESE
Iwake only to realize I’m on Coop’s couch in the family room and not in my own bed. Well, the bed in Coop’s guest room. My hand skims my body to confirm I’m still fully clothed. That is, except for my foot, which is stretched out over the arm. Noises from the kitchen prick my ears. Who’s here?
Tossing the blanket onto the floor… when did I get this? Whatever. I stand and take one step, then cry out. “Ouch!”
A barefoot Coop—in only grey sweats, of course—rushes to my side, his strong arms going around me. “What are you doing? You need to stay in bed.”
I point out, “That’s the sofa.”
“You know what I meant.” He assists me back down. Rather, hovers until I’m sitting again, with my leg elevated. “I was making you breakfast so you can stay off your foot and rest.”
My arms cross over my chest. “I don’t need to be catered to.”
“You’re right. But take it from me, the less you use your foot now, the sooner it’ll heal.
” He takes a step toward the kitchen. “Let me finish with breakfast. Don’t get your hopes up, though.
I can’t make much from scratch or anything.
” With that, he tosses a kitchen towel over his shoulder and leaves the room.
Dammit. There are things to do, like going with Coop to the Tumi photoshoot.
Crap. He can’t go there by himself! I need to take a shower.
I push away from the sofa and tentatively put weight on my left foot, but it hurts like a motherfucker.
I make it three steps until I grab onto a table.
At this rate, I won’t get to my room before nightfall. Shit.
“Here you go—hey, what are you doing? I told you to sit and wait for me.” He puts a tray on the coffee table.
I muster as much indignation as possible, considering all my weight is on my right leg. “I’m not an invalid.”
“Of course you’re not. Your foot needs time to heal, that’s all. You’ll be back to normal in a couple days.”
“Days? No way will I be out of it for days!”
His shoulders lower. “Listen, I’m sorry but your ankle doesn’t agree. The best thing you can do is baby it. Get caught up on the latest shows.”
I roll my eyes. “What choice do I have?”
“Well, you’re not wrong there.” He pats the couch. “Here. Sit down and enjoy the oatmeal I prepared for you. I’ll get my bowl and join you out here.”
Thankfully, he leaves the room to allow me the private indignity of hopping to the sofa, where I collapse. He left a tray with oatmeal, fruit, and coffee. I pick up the mug first and take a long sip, extra sweet like I like it. He returns and sits opposite me. Lifting it, I say, “This is good.”
“I’ve discovered this fantastic brew when UC was in New Orleans. The coffee beans are from there.”
I take another sip, savoring the chicory flavor. He picks up his bowl, so I decide to try the oatmeal—not my breakfast of choice, but beggars can’t be choosers and all that. I dip my spoon into the mixture. “Wow. This is much better than I feared.”
His spoon pauses on the way to his mouth. “Thanks. I think.”
In no time, the oatmeal is devoured and I’m munching on a clementine. “I almost feel human,” I declare, patting my belly.
“Considering I want my stylist to be human, I’d call that a win.”
Sitting back, I lift my foot. “I should be there with you for the photoshoot. Is it really necessary for me to skip it?”
He takes a sip of his coffee. “No, you don’t have to miss it. However, you’d have to sit for the entire time. I’m sure they have ice. I can carry you to and from the store.”
I consider everything he’s told me. “That would be way too embarrassing. I’m your stylist. I can’t be there and let others do my job.”
“Your choice.”
I punch the throw pillow next to me. “There's no need for you to be so smug about it.”
His mug hides his face. “Just stating the facts.”
“Well, they suck.” I stare at the blank television. “If it’s not possible for me to go with you to the photoshoot, I’ll have to make myself useful some other way. I guess I can order things online for you to try.”
He scowls at me. “Didn’t I suggest that weeks ago? Order all my clothes and be done in a day?”
“That’s not what I’m suggesting at all. I’m able to do this now because we bought the bulk of your items already.
Tried them on. Touched the fabrics. I’ve learned how a variety of items fit you.
I couldn’t have done that before. Plus, I can get you some things like a belt off the internet because they aren’t as unique. ”
“So you say.” He finishes his coffee. “Don’t tell anyone this—I will deny it—but it was sort of fun shopping with you.”
“Aha! Made a convert out of you after all! Have I won our bet?”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
Guess not. Yet, his confession makes the fact I have to stay in his house, alone, somewhat tolerable. “I’m going with that!” I rearrange my dirty dishes on the tray. “Now, tell me. Which outfit are you wearing to the photoshoot?”
He shrugs. “I was thinking jeans and—”
“No,” I stop him. “Tumi is a luxury brand. You have to convey high-end from your toes to your head. Try again.”
“Fine. How about a pair of khaki trousers and one of the shirts from M. Marcel?”
“Now we’re getting somewhere. Because you’ll be wearing khaki pants, you should wear a statement color on the top. This will set off your new black luggage perfectly.”
His face twists in concentration. He throws up his hands. “I don’t know! What color shirt should I wear. Just tell me and I’ll put it on.”
I purse my lips. Who knew it’s so difficult for a guy to get dressed? When UC gets ready for a gig, I have their racks all separated by band member, and everything pretty much matches. I guess this is a whole new world for him. Huh.
“How about your khaki trousers with your new black boots. They’re unexpected and will give you the rockstar edge. On the top, wear the purple shirt. It’s a great jewel tone and complements your coloring. You can even put on the earrings I gave you.”
“Aren’t they a bit big? Flashy?”
“True, they are. However, everything else you’re wearing is demure. Make sure the top of your shirt is unbuttoned so your UC pendant shows. The earrings will provide some extra bling.”
“I’m not a blingy type of guy.”
“I’m well aware.”
He stands while I sit, neither one of us saying anything.
I check the clock. “You don’t have much time—you better get dressed. Come back here before you leave, though. I need to approve your outfit.”
Without a word, Coop leaves for his bedroom and I stifle a smile. Men can be such babies! You’d think I was asking him to cook a gourmet meal or something, rather than put on clothes he just bought. Under my supervision, of course.
Realizing he won’t be out here for a little bit, I check out the vast family room, complete with a chess set and telescope.
Not about to try getting to either, I turn on the TV and flip through the channels.
Nothing grabs my attention until I land on Emilie Dubois’ series.
She’s styling a couple of brothers. I love the distinct belts she has them wearing.
Which reminds me I better order a belt or two for Coop. Emilie comes through once more.
Coop walks into the family room, arms outstretched. “How do I look?”
I focus on him, my eyes doing a slow blink. Wow. I did good. “Amazing!” I leap up. “Ouch!”
He catches me before I fall, the scent of patchouli and jasmine from the cologne we purchased together dancing in my nose. My head against his upper torso, I take a deep inhale.
“Are you okay?”
“Damn. You smell great.”
He chuckles. “Thanks to you.”
I sniff him again.
His arms tighten around me.
Without thought, I bring my lips to his neck.
When I try to go higher by pushing on my toes, pain flares and I crash into his hard body. “My stupid ankle!”
He rubs my back until the pain subsides. A little.
“Only a couple more days. Let me help you onto the sofa.” He sits me down and places my foot on the coffee table. “I’ll get you ice.”
I frickin’ hate being injured. Especially around such an intoxicating guy. Hold up, Nese! When did the guitarist become intoxicating? If Jenna and Hayden could read my thoughts, they’d be laughing at me. Well, too bad. I was caught up in his scent, nothing more.
“Here you go. Put this on your ankle. It’ll be better tomorrow, I promise.”
He places the icepack on the top of my foot and I manage not to hiss in pain. Have to keep some shred of dignity.
“I’m fine,” I lie. “Let me check out your outfit again. Turn around.”
He does and damn. He looks as good from the back as the front. “The boots are perfect! Don’t you agree?” He lifts up his left foot. “Show off!”
“I didn’t mean to—”
“I’m joshin’ ya! I love the purple shirt and your UC pendant with this look.” I zero in on his earrings. “I see you’re wearing the hoops.”
He nods. “Yeah. I know you said to wear your earrings, but Darren gave me these, and I felt it was right to honor him. Besides, you selected everything else I’m wearing.”
Makes sense. “I didn’t realize Darren gave you those.” The tiny part of me that was sad can shove it. He’s right to honor UC’s original keyboardist. “They’re great.” I clap my hands. “How do you feel?”
His left shoulder lifts. “Good, I guess. I mean, I’m slightly more elevated than my usual stuff. Not quite stage ready—because it’s not all rocker-wear, you know—but more put together.”
I exhale. “Exactly. I think you’re getting it. You want to appear proud to be wherever you are. You’ll be the trendsetter rather than, well, not.”
“Nese.” He waits for my gaze to reach his face. “Thank you.”
Of all the compliments I’ve ever received, this has to be the most heartfelt. I’m not sure what to do with this realization. “You’re welcome.”
Walking over to the counter, he opens a drawer and pulls out his wallet—oh my, this needs to be replaced!—and key fob. “Guess I better get ready to smile.”
“And show off the new luggage. Which I can’t wait to see back here when the photoshoot’s done!”
He drops his sunglasses over his eyes. “Catch you later.”
Idly, I watch TV for a while, not registering anything on it.
Tossing the freaking ice pack to the side, I decide it’s time for me to get to work and scour the web for belts.
Damn. It’s really difficult not being able to touch them.
After a couple of hours, I choose five. Unsure which of them he’ll like, I put all of them in the cart, then turn my attention to wallets.
I find at least ten that would suit him, but purchase my favorite.
This will be my gift to him.
Because he’s my client. Sort of. Close enough. Not because I want to get together with him like Jenna and Hayden said.
To distract myself, I call Luke to check in. “I’ve been making real progress with Coop. He’s at the Tumi photoshoot now.”
“Is it a closed set? Is that why you’re not there with him?”
I move my bum foot. “I wish.” A sigh escapes. “I hurt my ankle and need to stay off it for a couple of days. Coop promised me he’d be good. I approved his outfit before he left.”
“I would’ve loved to see that. Did you make him change like ten times?”
“Nope. Not once.” I pause. “I did tell him what to wear before he put it on, though.” We both laugh.
“What happened to your ankle?”
Not wanting to rehash my accident, I give him the short version. “I was getting into Coop’s Range Rover and slipped. Rolled my ankle so I need a couple of days to heal. No big deal.” I move my foot to prove my point, but the searing pain makes me freeze. Dammit. Better get more ice.
“Ouch. Take it easy on that. We don’t need to get a bad rep after Bennett’s jump.”
“Yeah, well Jenna’s on staff now, so she can handle any incidents. But for this, I only need rest, not PT.” I stand and limp into the kitchen for another ice pack. Takes me five times as long, but at least I don’t reinjure myself.
“That’s good. By the way, Security did a thorough investigation of Coop’s luggage and it seems the pieces didn’t make it onto the SUV from the hotel. Elias’s annoyed there were no cameras in the hotel’s hallway.”
I grab an icepack from the fridge. “Makes more sense than David Copperfield made it disappear.”
“Right? Is it bad I’m happy Coop lost his clothes?” He chuckles.
I think back to something Coop said a while ago. “Maybe it was the Label? They’ve been pestering you for a while now to make him get a new personal wardrobe.”
“The timing is suspicious. I can’t imagine they would do such a thing, though.”
“I guess we’ll never know.” I better return to the sofa. Did it move since I’ve been in the kitchen? As I limp, I add, “Coop’s new stuff is gold. He’s ahead of the trends. I’m hoping he’ll keep it up as time passes.”
“We’re talking about the same guitarist, right? The one who only threw away an old t-shirt because it had holes under both arms and was fraying on the chest.”
I smile. “His shirt lived well beyond its expiration date.” I wrap the ice pack in the kitchen towel I had from before and place it on my foot. “He’s a rather complex guy.”
“That’s Coop.”
I elevate my ankle. “Was he always the one the band went to for advice?”
“Pretty much. I think Coop became more introspective over time, ever since he dove headfirst into Zen and meditation. He started going to retreats during our breaks.”
“Like the one he’s supposed to be at during this hiatus, but for the Vanishing Luggage Mystery.”
He chuckles. “Exactly. Well, I’ve taken up enough of your time. Good luck finishing Coop’s wardrobe. I’m excited for his new threads.” He pauses. “Tris is gonna be so jealous.”
I laugh. “I’m doing my best.”
After we hang up, I hit the remote and watch The Lord of the Rings. I need my favorite movie to sort through everything I’ve learned about UC’s guitarist.