Chapter 22
COOPER
The smell of burning meat hit me just as Katrina’s fingers snapped in front of my face.
“Earth to Cooper,” my sister said, her voice cutting through whatever fog had settled over my brain. “Unless you’re going for the charcoal special, you might want to flip those burgers.”
I blinked, focusing on the griddle where six perfectly good hamburger patties were well on their way to becoming hockey pucks. Black smoke curled up from the edges. I was about thirty seconds away from setting off the smoke detectors. The guys at the station would never let me live that down.
“Shit.” I grabbed the spatula and quickly flipped each burger, wincing at the scorched undersides. Salvageable, maybe, if I could stop my mind from wandering long enough to actually cook them properly.
I couldn’t stop thinking about Joy. Sex with her was better than I imagined. I was a little embarrassed I had only held out about ten minutes. She was too sweet. Tight. Amazing.
And it had been too long since I’d lost myself in a woman like that.
“What’s wrong with you today?” Katrina leaned against the kitchen counter with her arms crossed. “You’ve been spaced out since you got here.”
“Just tired,” I said, turning my attention back to the griddle. “Long night.”
It wasn’t a lie, exactly. I had gotten very little sleep. But it wasn’t exhaustion making me distracted. It was the memory of Joy Murphy curled against my chest.
“Yeah, I bet.” There was something in Katrina’s tone that made me look up sharply. She was grinning, that knowing smirk she’d perfected sometime around age twelve. “The whole town’s talking about you shacking up for the night with Joy.”
Heat that had nothing to do with the griddle crawled up my neck. “We got stuck in a snowstorm. We took shelter. End of story.”
“Uh-huh.” Katrina’s grin widened. “That’s why you look like you haven’t slept and you’re burning lunch? Because you spent a perfectly innocent night sharing space with a beautiful woman? It’s all platonic, right?”
“People need to get a life,” I muttered, aggressively flipping the burgers again even though they didn’t need it.
The truth was, we had done more than just share space.
We’d shared heat and breath and kisses that had left me aching in ways I’d forgotten were possible.
Joy had fallen asleep with her hand pressed against my chest, and I had lain awake for hours listening to her breathe, memorizing the weight of her against me.
But I sure as hell wasn’t telling Katrina any of that. A gentleman didn’t kiss and tell.
“You know I love Joy,” Katrina said, apparently deciding to torture me further, “but maybe you should be careful. I don’t exactly have the best track record with you dating my friends.”
There it was. The real reason for her concern, wrapped up in sister protectiveness but rooted in our shared history of romantic disasters.
Katrina and Lynn used to be good friends.
Katrina had been the one to insist we were perfect for each other, right up until Lynn decided that some tennis asshole was better.
“We’re not dating,” I said, but even as the words left my mouth they felt like a lie.
“Good,” Katrina replied, but she was still watching me with those sharp eyes that missed nothing.
That was the twin thing. She could read between the lines. Tap into my brainwaves whether I wanted her to or not.
“Back off,” I growled.
“Joy is not sticking around, you know. She’s only here to regain her footing and then she’s off to whatever city she can find.”
I knew that. Of course I knew that. It was one of the many excellent reasons why getting involved with Joy was a spectacularly bad idea.
I ran through the list as I assembled the burgers—reasons I’d been cataloging since I watched her walk away looking as shaken as I felt.
First, I wasn’t ready. The wounds from Lynn’s departure were still too fresh and the betrayal was still too raw.
I had barely figured out how to live alone again.
I was just not getting used to coming home to an empty house.
Second, she was here temporarily, passing through, and I couldn’t afford to let myself get attached to someone who was already planning her exit strategy.
Third, we worked together now, at least tangentially. She was organizing the festival and I was providing safety guidance. It would be messy and complicated if things went south between us, and they always went south eventually.
But then I thought about the way she laughed and how she turned our ridiculous situation into something almost magical. The way she looked at me when she’d settled onto my lap, playful and challenging and so beautiful it had made my dick instantly hard.
Joy made me feel things I’d never felt before. Not even with Lynn, if I was being honest. With Lynn, everything had been comfortable and predictable and safe. What I felt for Joy was none of those things. It was electric and terrifying and completely out of my control.
It reminded me of being seventeen again and the way my heart had hammered when she’d given me that one devastatingly brief kiss before she walked away.
Some things never changed, apparently.
“Cooper?” Katrina’s voice cut through my memories. “Burgers are done, dude.”
I looked down at the griddle, surprised to find that I somehow managed to cook them properly despite my mental wandering. “Right. I know.”
The rest of the crew had started gathering in the kitchen, drawn by the smell of food and the promise of a break from equipment maintenance.
I plated the burgers and carried them to the long table where everyone was assembling, grateful for the distraction of other voices and safer topics of conversation.
“Smells good, Coop,” Tony said as he loaded his burger with all available condiments.
The familiar rhythm of firehouse conversation flowed around me. It was the usual good-natured ribbing and complaints about department politics. Someone brought up the festival and the higher-than-normal excitement around it.
“My wife is already planning an entire day,” one of the guys said.
“Mine too,” another chimed in. “It’s going to be hell chasing three kids under the age of six around. Would people judge me if I got leashes?”
“Lucky bastard, Frost,” the first one said. “No wife, no kids, no obligations. You can just show up, do your job, and go home.”
Several of the guys laughed and agreed. I forced myself to smile along with them. But the comment hit harder than it should have. No obligations. No one waiting at home, no one to buy presents for, no one who cared whether I made it through my shift in one piece.
I was a bachelor with no wife on the horizon.
I told myself that was what I wanted. I tried to convince myself I wanted simplicity, independence and freedom from the messy complications of relationships. But sitting there listening to them complain about their kids and wives, I felt the hollowness of my life like a physical ache.
They started talking about what they were going to get their wives for Christmas.
“My Sarah wants one of those fancy stand mixers,” one said. “The kind that costs more than my truck payment.”
Jewelry and spa days were also contenders. A new phone. A better laptop.
The conversation continued around me, everyone sharing their gift-giving dilemmas and Christmas plans.
I found myself thinking about Joy, wondering what she might like.
She seemed like the type who would appreciate something thoughtful rather than expensive.
Maybe a book. She mentioned loving to read.
Or something for her festival planning, though that felt too impersonal.
Maybe something small and personal. Something that would make her think of me after she left town.
The thought stopped me cold. Why was I thinking about buying Joy a Christmas present? We weren’t dating. We’d shared one night during a snowstorm, and then we both walked away like it didn’t mean anything. I had no business shopping for her, no right to insert myself into her holiday plans.
But I couldn’t stop thinking about it anyway. Couldn’t stop imagining her face lighting up when she opened something I’d chosen specifically for her. Couldn’t stop wondering what would make her happy.
“Cooper? You still with us?”
I blinked, realizing the conversation had moved on and everyone was looking at me expectantly. “Sorry, what?”
“I said, are you planning to ask anyone to the New Year’s Eve party?” Tony repeated. “Or are you going to spend another year standing in the corner nursing one beer all night?”
“Haven’t thought about it,” I lied.
“Well, think fast,” he said. “All the good ones get taken early, and you’re not getting any younger.”
More laughter around the table, but I barely heard it. I was too busy imagining Joy at that party, wondering who she might be with, whether she’d save me a dance or spend the night avoiding me because things were too complicated between us.
I glanced over at Katrina. I was certain she was watching me. Could she hear my thoughts?
If she did, she would know I was imagining her laugh and thinking about her smile. I was thinking about the way she felt in my arms, warm and soft and perfect. I was practically doodling her name in hearts like some lovesick teenager.
I was in serious trouble.
Somewhere between that first day at the elementary school and last night in the storm, Joy Murphy had gotten under my skin. Again. Not just attraction—though God knew there was plenty of that—but something deeper. Something that felt suspiciously like the beginnings of love.
The same feeling that had knocked me sideways in high school, when a kiss from her had rewritten everything I thought I knew about myself.
Except this time, I wasn’t seventeen and she wasn’t the untouchable girl who ran away.
This time, we were adults with complicated lives and incompatible goals and about a dozen reasons why we should stay away from each other.
This time, I had no excuse for the way my heart hammered every time I thought about her.
“You know what your problem is, Cooper?” Katrina said, appearing at my elbow as the meal wound down and guys started clearing their plates.
“I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
“You think too much.” She studied my face with that unsettling twin intuition that had always made it impossible to hide anything from her.
I wanted to ask her what she meant, but she was already walking away, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the growing certainty that I was about to make a very big mistake.
Despite every logical reason to stay away from Joy, I was pretty sure I was going to chase her anyway.