2. Cooper
CHAPTER TWO
cooper
Panic floods those large golden eyes, and for the first time that morning Cooper finally understands what the hell is going on. Why her gaze filled with heat the moment she saw him on the beach. Why the sight of it stirred a similar reaction in him. Why she looks exactly the same but feels entirely different.
He’s spent the past six weeks with Emily. He’s kissed her on camera and he’s joked with her off-screen. He’s held her in his arms. He’s dug his fingers into her thighs while she wrapped her legs around him. He’s done just about everything someone can do when pretending to fall in love with another person on national television, and more so, he’s become her friend. Which is all to say, he knows Emily.
And this sure as shit ain’t her.
Hello, Samantha , he thinks as the wheels visibly spin in her gaze. Cooper understands her panic. Emily would have told her the plan before they made the swap. It’s been figured out for days, ever since that fateful night they shared in the dream suite while the cameras were down. Instead of the night of passion the show intended, he and Emily were finally able to tell each other the truth—that they cared for each other in a completely platonic way, and nothing more. So rather than cement their relationship, they used the hours to plan their mutually beneficial exits. He was going to propose. She was going to let him down easy. He’d walk away as the obvious lead for the next season, securing the publicity he’s so desperately hoping will help his family’s ranch. And Emily would walk away with her head held high, her jewelry business thriving, and her future open for the man who truly held her heart. It was a win-win situation, now completely undone by a single, clearly stated word.
Sure.
Unfortunately, he’s far too intrigued by Sam to be annoyed. Why did she say yes? Why did she go off-script? And why, oh why, did his heart lurch the moment she did?
Sam opens her mouth to speak.
Alarms he doesn’t understand go off in Cooper’s head. While he made a promise to his mother to always be a gentleman, he knows if he doesn’t act now, he’ll lose his chance to get answers. The show will be over. This woman will slip through his fingers. And the spark warming his chest for the first time in six years will sputter out. So he does the one thing he knows will keep her from talking.
He yanks on her hand so she falls into his lap and slides one arm around her waist in an exaggerated dip. She gasps softly, taken by surprise. Her eyes flash with undeniable interest. Using the opening, he slides his fingers through her hair, grips the back of her head, and kisses her with everything he’s got.
At first she goes rigid.
Cooper almost stops. The last thing he would ever want to do is kiss a woman against her will. But when he starts to retreat, she grabs the collar of his shirt, arches her neck to deepen the angle, and pulls him closer.
Hello, Samantha , he thinks again, this time unable to stop a grin from twisting his lips as he sinks into the kiss. Her lithe body presses flush against him, her frame petite but not at all fragile, perfect for, well, things he shouldn’t be thinking about when a dozen cameras are watching him from every angle, just hoping for a show.
Still, he doesn’t pull away.
There’s a subtle taste on her lips he can’t quite decipher, one he needs more of as he slides his tongue against hers, sucking on the flavor. Memories stir, of fragrant flowers and fresh air, as if he’s galloping across the springtime plains with nothing but the sun and sky and open land stretched before him. A cool breeze brushes his cheeks, like a promise of wild, untapped freedom.
“Cut!”
Sam doesn’t pull away. And well, shit, he’s not going to be the first to break, so Cooper just keeps moving against her pillowy lips, intoxicated by that sweet elixir.
“Cut!”
She pulls him infinitesimally closer as a quiet groan escapes her lips. He digs his fingers into the soft curve of her hip.
“Cut!”
Sam shifts her face just enough to deepen the kiss, her mouth opening wider in invitation. Cooper pulls her hair taut, taking the lead and arching her head where he wants it, eager to accept. Then—
“Cut!” Nina shouts for the fourth time, but she must’ve obtained a bullhorn, because the sound comes blasting across the beach with the force of a hurricane. “For the love of god, cut, before we all self-combust. It was a hundred freaking degrees before you two started going at it like dogs in heat. I’m sweaty enough as is.”
Sam rears back, slightly dazed. She drops her gaze to his mouth and darts out her tongue, licking the taste of him off her lips before she swallows. It immediately makes him think of other places he wouldn’t mind having her tongue. Heat rushes through him like a bolt of lightning, straight to his groin.
No, I wouldn’t mind that at all…
Before the situation becomes embarrassing, horror floods her eyes. She sucks in a breath and narrows her gaze as if in accusation, then shoves him hard in the chest. Of course, seeing as he’s twice her weight with about a foot on her, instead of the push moving him, it only serves to send her flying backward. With a yelp, Sam crash-lands on her ass by his feet.
“Graceful, Em.” Nina snorts. Then louder, she calls, “Let’s get a close-up of Cooper putting the ring on her finger, some wide-angle shots, and then the season is a wrap, people!”
“Wait!” Sam gulps, cutting her face toward the producer. “Can we do that again? The proposal, I mean. I can be more enthusiastic, more energetic, more excited, more—”
She looks to him for help.
Cooper shrugs. “I thought it went pretty well, myself.”
Sam bares her teeth like a lioness, and it’s all he can do not to laugh out loud. He can’t explain why he finds her obvious exasperation so amusing, only that he does. And the devilish cowboy inside, the one he thought he’d left behind a long time ago, can’t help but keep pushing those beautiful buttons. So he rubs his thumb over his bottom lip, and then pointedly displays the pink lipstick he knows is staining his skin.
Her eyes flare with heat.
He wishes he could tell if it were fury or lust, but she turns her attention back to the production tent before he gets the chance. Honestly, he’ll take either one.
“One more time,” Sam pleads. “Please.”
“We don’t need it,” Nina says.
“But—”
“You were perfect, Emily. Absolutely perfect.” The producer turns to the side and snaps her fingers. “Makeup, get over here. We need—”
Sam suddenly gasps.
Her hand goes to her forehead.
She teeters.
Is she—
Before he can complete the thought, her eyes roll back and she gracefully crumples in on herself. Still kneeling, Cooper catches her easily…a little too easily, almost as if she planned it that way. The suspicion is confirmed a second later when she slyly peeks through a single cracked eyelid before going dramatically limp in his arms. He coughs to cover up a snort and glances to Nina. The producer rolls her eyes, clearly not fooled.
“We have an hour of filming left, Emily, and you’re not getting out of it that easily.”
The woman in his arms doesn’t stir.
Nina scoffs, but after another few seconds it turns to a sigh. “Can someone get her a glass of water, please? Now!”
While the crew scrambles to find a bottle of water, Cooper studies the freckles painted across Sam’s ivory cheeks, utterly fascinated by the woman in his arms. He shouldn’t be surprised she’s resorted to the world’s most poorly acted fainting spell—Emily described her as a fearless go-getter prone to dramatics—but he doesn’t understand what she thinks it will achieve. They already filmed the proposal. It’s done. Over. Finito .
A fact confirmed when Nina dryly announces, “Oh, well. If she doesn’t wake up, I guess we’re done filming for the day, and we’ll all have to come back here tomorrow to get the last few shots we need.”
Sam’s eyes fly open. “I’m up.”
“I thought you might be.”
“I’m ready.”
“Good.”
Sam offers him a grateful look before she stands back up and brushes the wrinkles from her dress. Simple as that, he understands why she did it. She needed a second to breathe, to plot. There’s no more panic in her gaze as the makeup team rushes over to clean them back up. There’s only stubborn determination. She has a plan—that much is clear. He just wishes he knew what the calculations spinning beneath her furrowed brow were trying to say.
Because suddenly he’s the one who’s panicking. While they kiss and hug and smile for the cameras, capturing the last few romantic shots needed to complete the picture of a happily engaged couple, his anxiety mounts. Sam is all business. They’ve switched places. The focus never leaves her eyes. The heady vixen is gone. And without that distraction, the reality of his actions finally sinks in.
Shit. Cooper grimaces. What did I just do?
The same thing he always did.
Think, son. His dad’s proud voice echoes up from the depths. For once in your life, think beyond yourself. This isn’t about you. It’s about this ranch. It’s about this family. It’s about how much your mother went through to bring you into the world so you could carry on this legacy. Show some respect. Show some gratitude. Get your ass out of the clouds and your boots back on this dirt where you belong. She doesn’t have much time left, and I’ll be damned if the last thing she sees of her son is all the opportunities he’s thrown away.
That conversation changed everything.
For better.
For worse.
And even though six years have passed since his father spoke those words, it could have been merely weeks. He knows what his father was thinking while he stood on the front porch, lifted his mug to his lips, and silently watched his son drive away on another harebrained adventure. Why bother speaking when everything he needed to say lived in those chastising eyes?
To his father, the show is just another selfish attempt to chase a foolish dream, to put himself before the ranch, to run away.
But he’s not a kid anymore.
He made mistakes. He owns them.
This is different.
Every year, the taxes increase and the cattle become more expensive. They’re maxed out on government leases. Maxed out on investments. If something doesn’t change, and soon, they’ll have to sell some of the land. And maybe to some people, that might sound reasonable, like no big deal. As one of the largest cattle ranches in the United States they have roughly two hundred thousand acres of it, after all. But his father would rather die than lose even a foot of what’s been passed down to him. It’s not just dirt. It’s generations of blood and sweat. It’s everything his father has worked for and his father before him, back and back over a hundred and fifty years. It’s a legacy, and a burden, and a gift.
It’s everything to his father.
And though the man might not believe it, it’s everything to Cooper, too.
When Trish first called to offer him a spot as one of the suitors, he laughed in her face. He couldn’t take six weeks off to play Prince Charming for some Hollywood executive who didn’t know the first thing about his life. It would be fall on the ranch. There were calves to wean, fences to mend, and endless preparations to make before winter buried them in snow. She could find another cowboy to play hero on TV, one of those assholes with shiny boots that had never seen the inside of a pen. He wasn’t interested.
“I don’t want another cowboy,” she told him. “I want you.”
“All due respect, ma’am, I don’t really care what you want.”
“You should.”
“And why’s that?”
She didn’t answer. Instead, she took a deep breath, clearly pivoting the conversation. “There are thousands of cowboys in this country, Cooper Kelley. Aren’t you curious how I found you?”
“I know how you found me.”
That fucking video had become the bane of his existence. He’d been in town running some errands when a summer thunderstorm struck, soaking him through by the time it was done. Before the drive home, he stripped off his shirt and tossed it into the bed of his truck. The second he settled his hat back on, a series of catcalls filled the air. Cooper had turned to find a tableful of his mother’s old friends outside the local coffee shop. The women in town had teased him ever since he was a boy, and they’d keep doing it until he was an old man, he was sure. It was easier to roll with it, he’d learned, than to fight it. So with a roll of his eyes, he offered them a friendly grin and tipped his hat.
“Morning, ladies.”
And that would have been it, had a scream not pierced the air. Cooper spun. A young woman chased after a baby carriage. It rolled into the street. A car sped closer. He acted on instinct and jumped for the stroller. What he didn’t realize as he hastily pushed the baby out of harm’s way, was that one of the teenagers who worked in the coffee shop was filming the whole thing. She posted it to some app, and forty-eight hours later, every news station in the country was calling him, asking for an interview with the “six-pack savior” as he’d been dubbed. And hell if he’d ever live that name down. He said no to all of them, just like he was going to say no to Trish. Until…
“I know you think I don’t know anything about your life, and maybe I don’t, but I do know this,” Trish said before he could find a polite way to hang up the phone. “Last year, the cattle industry had a three percent decline, and it was the smallest herd size in over sixty years. Reports predict a total collapse of the industry by 2030. And even if it doesn’t fall apart, every article I read in preparation for this phone call says cattle prices are declining while maintenance costs are rising. Now, I don’t know much about your ranch, but my guess is you’re feeling the squeeze right alongside everyone else.”
“I don’t need your insights into how to do my job.”
“Of course not, but can you answer one more question for me? And then I’ll let you go and never call you again.”
“All right. One more.”
“Do you know how much someone with five hundred thousand followers on Instagram can charge for a single post?”
“What does that matter?”
“Ten thousand dollars. For one post. If you arrange a sponsored post every week, that’s half a million dollars right there. Not to mention brand partnerships, paid appearances, podcasts, book deals, and more.”
“I still don’t see your point, ma’am.”
“Five hundred thousand is the average number of followers a top-four suitor on the show walks away with. If you make it to the finale, that bumps to seven hundred and fifty thousand. And if you get selected as next season’s lead, it jumps to two million. Think about that, Cooper Kelley, before you turn down my offer. Your ranch needs money? Longevity? A new angle in a failing industry? I can give it to you. All you need to do is take a six-week vacation around the world. Are you still sure you want to say no?”
“What makes you think all those people would have any interest in me?”
“I’ve been doing this a long time. I know a leading man when I see one. The real question is do you?”
No, he didn’t.
He still doesn’t. But that hardly changes the facts. She caught him hook, line, and sinker with her argument. Numbers started spinning the second she finished talking, and weeks later, they’re still there dancing across his thoughts, impossible to ignore. Anyone willing to spit in the face of an easy million dollars for posting a few photos is a fool, and Cooper isn’t that. He can do a lot with that sort of money, for the ranch, for his family. His father will never understand, but that doesn’t matter. Results matter. Which is why he agreed to the deal with Emily, especially after the producers made it clear he would be handed the role as the next lead on a silver platter.
And now he’s gone and ruined it.
Well, shit.
Cooper is so in his head he hardly realizes time passing. Suddenly, the beach is gone, the boat ride back to the resort is over, and he’s outside the front door of a very familiar over-ocean bungalow—Emily’s.
Except it’s not Emily’s anymore.
It’s Sam’s. And his.
It’s theirs.
Because they’re engaged. And supposedly in love. Why wouldn’t they want to spend the next five days in paradise sharing the same room together?
Again… Shit.
“Here’s your itinerary,” Nina says as she releases some papers from her clipboard. Sam quickly reviews them while Cooper stands beside her, mute. His heart thunders. “We booked a few excursions for you guys while you’re here, but feel free to call the front desk to adjust the plans. Trish, Fred, and I will be in the bungalow next door for a few days, courtesy of the network, so holler if you need anything. Here are your phones out of purgatory and your wallets. Everything else is inside. I’ll be in touch in a few weeks with some follow-up, so don’t lose my number. Otherwise, you’re free.”
Free.
The word clangs around his head like a gong gone wrong, so loud he can’t think. He stands there, immobile from the reverberations.
“No need to be shy now,” Nina says, rolling her eyes as she looks between them. “I saw the aftermath of your dream suite, remember? And an hour ago you just about set the beach on fire, so go, enjoy. It’s not every day you get a free week in paradise.”
She gives them both an encouraging push. Cooper stumbles through the door. Sam does too. They stare at each other as it closes with a gentle click .
Free.
Free?
He’s never felt more trapped in his life. And that’s before the petite redhead beside him furrows her brow, places both her palms on his chest, and gives him a good, hard shove.