Chapter 2
Cooper
Why had I invited her over for dinner? She was like a sister to me. An annoying little sister that I avoided at all costs.
I needed to work closely with her, and I needed it to go well because my job depended on it.
The Sterlings had entrusted me to run their new business when the only experience I'd had was working construction for other companies.
I'd never been in a leadership role. Why did I think I could be the man for the position?
Aspen was the one woman who had the power to blow up my plans. I couldn't understand her. She worked multiple part-time jobs and never seemed to settle on any one thing, whether that was a job or a boyfriend. Instead, she flitted from one thing to another without a care in the world.
She could afford to be carefree. She had a family that loved and cared about her. Who'd offer her a place to live if she needed it. She hadn't grown up in a volatile situation where money and food were sometimes scarce and emotional support nonexistent.
I craved stability and financial security, and this job represented everything I'd ever wanted. If I could make this contracting company a success, then I'd have both. But Aspen's involvement could wreck everything. How did I know that she wouldn't walk away and screw me in the process?
The only way I could control the outcome was to be involved in every aspect, and that included working closely with Aspen. I needed to ensure that everything was handled, that nothing was overlooked.
I'd told her it was to prove that we could get along and work together. But I was fairly sure that wasn't going to happen.
She was reckless and impulsive. Everything I couldn't afford to be. We had nothing in common. This dinner was a means to an end. I wanted to know everything she was doing so that I could head off any problems.
It wasn't some grand scheme to get along.
I could care less about that. I just needed to know what she was doing and ensure that everything would be executed to my specifications.
Surely, Aspen didn't really want this job.
She'd be off to the next thing sooner rather than later.
I just needed to contain her for now. I could head off any issues before they exploded in my face.
I needed to keep her close so that I could ensure everything was handled correctly.
Why I was spending so much time figuring out what to cook in the meat aisle of the grocery store was confusing? It didn't matter what I made. I was cooking a meal for Aspen. The younger sister of my friends. The girl who'd turned into a woman. Not that it mattered.
She was still irritating.
She'd hate that I saw her that way. But I had to, or I'd think about all the ways she'd grown up to be a beautiful woman. One who her brothers would not want me thinking about.
No matter what my intentions were, if they found out about our dinner, they'd have more than a few choice words for me. There would probably be a few well-placed fists involved, and I'd deserve it. I knew the risks, but I couldn't see another way to keep her in line.
She was flighty, and I was steady.
I moved from the meat to the seafood, and my gaze landed on the fish options. I'd add a little lemon garlic pasta, and we'd be good to go. Maybe a nice chunky bread to dip in olive oil.
What was I thinking? This wasn't a date. I wasn't trying to impress a woman. Even if I was, she'd conclude that I was emotionless, just like my last girlfriend had, and would want nothing to do with me.
That stung, but this wasn't a date. So what Aspen Sterling thought about me didn't matter. Not in the slightest. With that vow, I grabbed everything I needed for dinner, including a bottle of wine. Aspen seemed like a woman who enjoyed a glass of wine with dinner.
I ignored that voice in my head that said this wasn't a date. I was cooking dinner for a woman, and I always treated a woman right, even if I wasn't in touch with my emotions. On the way home, I stopped by a florist and bought a bouquet.
Then I argued with myself all the way home about whether I should give it to her when she arrived or put it in a vase and pretend it was ambiance for the dinner table.
By the time I pulled into my driveway, there was tension between my shoulders and a headache forming at the base of my skull. Aspen was more trouble than she was worth.
I'd never had to work this hard to convince myself that something wasn't a date. This was a business arrangement. We shouldn't be drinking wine or smelling flower petals.
Determined to set the tone right, I put the flowers in a vase my mom had given me when I moved in, filling it with water and the flower food the worker at the store had insisted it needed. Then I arranged the stems so that the flowers looked nice.
Except I wasn't even sure how to do that. I finally gave up and moved toward the stove to cook.
I texted the address to Aspen, then wondered if I should add a see you soon message. I decided against it because this wasn't a date. This was a business dinner to get to know each other better. We'd be working together. Nothing more. It was better to be short with her.
One glass of wine wouldn't lead to another. Besides, what woman spent time around me and didn't conclude that I was made of stone, incapable of being the kind of man they needed? Someone who expressed their feelings and was empathetic to whatever was going on in their lives.
Instead, I was focused on work and building the business that would sustain me and my family for a long time. I didn't have time to flirt with my best friends and business partners' sister. That would be a mistake. One I wasn't willing to make.
I seasoned the fish and slid it into the oven. As I heated water in a pot for the pasta, I couldn't help but think that I'd screwed up already. When I was a teenager and I realized that Aspen wasn't so little anymore, I knew I had to put those feelings in a box.
It was vital that I kept her in her role as my friends' younger sister.
I repeated the purpose of the evening in my head as I straightened the first floor of the house.
I could at least prove to her that I was a good guy.
One who could cook and clean. It might have been a bachelor pad, but I didn't have to meet every stereotype she had of the perpetually single man.
Then I berated myself again for acting like I had to impress her. She wasn't a woman I was interested in.
My ex's opinion was fresh in my mind. Tess didn't think I was capable of feelings, or that I ever would be. I thought I'd left my past where it belonged, but unfortunately it had left scars. Big ones.
When the doorbell rang, I was just pulling the fish from the oven. I set the casserole dish on top of the stove and went to answer the door.
When I opened the door, Aspen stood on the porch wearing a dress and a cardigan. She looked sweet and appealing. I wanted to push that cardigan off her shoulders and touch her bare skin. I'd shift those spaghetti straps off her arms and see how plump her breasts were.
I felt hot all over, and I swayed on my feet.
Concern flashed through Aspen's gaze. "Are you okay?"
I waved a dismissive hand. "The kitchen is warm."
She glided past me into my foyer, a bakery box clutched in her hands. She shoved it in my direction. "For dessert."
"You didn't have to bring anything over. It's just dinner between business associates." I'd practiced that line for an hour, and she winced at my curtness.
I took the box while she hung her jacket on a hook. "I'll eat it at home then."
I swallowed over the tightness in my throat. I hadn't meant to make her feel bad, and I wasn't sure how to fix it. It was better to get this evening moving forward. "I'm still cooking."
I turned and made my way to the kitchen, expecting her to follow. I added the cooked pasta to a pan with garlic, lemon, and a cup of the boiling water. I stirred and let it simmer for a minute. Then I remembered I had a guest.
Aspen stood by the counter, an uncertain expression on her face.
"Would you like a glass of wine?" I asked stiffly.
She shook her head. "Water's fine. It's a business dinner, remember?"
"That's right." I filled a glass with ice and water and handed it to her.
Then I filled a second for myself and drained the glass. It was unbearably hot in here. Would it be rude to open a window?
Her gaze was on the various pots and pans I'd used. "I can't believe you cooked."
I raised a brow. "I invited you for dinner, didn't I?"
She set her glass on the counter. "I thought you might buy something and reheat it."
"I told you I had to learn how to cook, living alone." And when her gaze stayed on me, I added, "My mom worked a lot when I was younger. I had to take care of my sister."
Her expression softened. "How is Emery?"
I'd forgotten that she was in the same grade as her. "She graduated from the local community college and transferred to University of Colorado."
"That's great."
"Yeah, it's all I ever wanted for her." I wanted her out of our family's house and living a life far away from here.
"You didn't want the same?"
I stiffened. "I got a job working construction in high school. I felt good about myself, putting in a hard day's work and getting paid for it. I was able to be home when she got off the bus and cook us dinner. It was a good job."
"I'm not saying it's not. I just wondered if you wanted to go to school too?"
I remembered the bad grades, the teachers' frustrations with me. "Nah. School wasn't my thing."
Her nose wrinkled. "It wasn't mine either."
"I forget that you went to college."
Her cheeks flushed. "Yeah, but I dropped out. My family thought I was crazy for walking away."
"Your brothers didn't all go to college either." I'd learned the business side of things by researching as much as I could and trial and error.
She sighed. "For some reason, my parents expected me to. I'm not doing skilled labor like them."