Author: Robyn Carr

“Oh,” she said.

“He’s all right, Sarah. Stop worrying about Cooper.”

How would Landon know that? Cooper could be a very manipulative con artist or pedophile. But she knew better than to pretend to be the all-wise big sister. That was usually the kiss of death. So she said, “Sure. Right.”

When Landon went back to bed, she pulled on her rubber boots and red jacket. Ham started wiggling around and snuffling. “Shh,” she said. “Just get your ball!” She hurried to get him out of the house before he woke Landon.

It was a cold, sunny morning but Sarah’s mood was stormy. She wasn’t really processing all the events of the past few months—the divorce, the tension she’d felt working with Derek, the move, the attack on Landon. Crisis was somehow easier to manage than that old impotence of not being in control, not being able to resolve things.

She jogged across the beach, throwing the ball for Hamlet. She didn’t really have a plan until she’d run all the way up the beach stairs to the bait shop, Ham on her heels, and went around the building to the trailer. She knew she might be acting a little irrationally, but she banged on the door. Then she banged on the door again, harder. She could hear him inside, walking. Finally he jerked the door open, wearing only a towel, with shaving cream on half his face, an impressive tattoo covering his right shoulder and running down his biceps. She demanded, “What the hell is going on with you and my brother?”

He frowned at her. “And this must be Sarah,” he said calmly. “Would you like to come inside?”

She stepped back. “Why don’t you just come outside?” she asked, knowing it was a ridiculous request.

“I’m much better at conversation with my pants on,” he said. “Stand by.” He let the door drift closed and was back a moment later with a small towel. “Wipe Ham’s mouth and feet and come inside. I’ll put on some clothes, we’ll talk about whatever has you upset and then maybe I’ll get back to my shower. That work for you?”

Inexplicably, she hated him for being calm. She felt more out of control than ever, yet more determined to be the stronger one. She snatched the towel out of his hand and said, “Get your pants.”

* * *

Cooper gave Sarah Dupre a brief salute. He walked past his galley kitchen and up three steps to his bathroom and bedroom. He closed the door. He leaned on the bathroom counter, looked in the mirror at his half-shaved face and whispered, “Holy crap.” Hot damn! He checked—his tongue was not hanging out but his eyes were a little hot. She was a freaking knockout.

Her hair was short, thick and dark and framed her face in a sexy, provocative way. Her eyes were so big, so chocolate, surrounded by thick, black lashes. Her lips—oh, my God, those lips. Ruby, full, heart-shaped lips that just begged to be... Stop, he told himself. She hid her small body under that thigh-length red jacket with a hood and a loose white shirt beneath that, but he could see a shapely form inside. He blinked his eyes closed hard, then checked to see if he was drooling.

Landon hadn’t told him how stunning she was. But then again, how many teenage boys brag about how pretty their sisters are?

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that she had her wind up about his friendship with Landon. Now, this was a first. He’d faced off with protective fathers over daughters and even had a very uncomfortable run-in with an ex-husband. There had been an occasion or two when a woman couldn’t decide between Cooper and another guy... But this? A beautiful woman who almost brought him to his knees, angry and upset over his friendship with her little brother? Whoa. He had an urge to call his older sister, Rochelle, and ask her what was happening here. She was no expert, but she was never short on advice.

He pulled on jeans and a white undershirt. He found her sitting in the same chair Landon had last occupied. She sprang to her feet. “Sit down,” he said gently. Then he went to the kitchen, filled the saucepan for Ham, grabbed another towel to put under it because the dog was a sloppy and ferocious drinker, and set him up. “We have our routine,” he said casually.

“How many times have you had this routine?” she wanted to know.

“Once.”

While Ham was lapping, Cooper took the couch. “Now, what has you so angry?” he asked.

“I’m not angry. I just want to know what this relationship with my brother is about. I have questions.”

“All right,” he said, leaning forward on the couch, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. “I saw Landon get into a little altercation on the beach. Nothing big or scary. Some kid was giving him crap and shoved him. I talked to him after that, found out he was getting bullied. Ostracized by some of his teammates. You know why, right?”

She just shook her head.

“He’s a better ball player than the senior, the team captain. I went to a game a week or so ago, just by accident—I was looking for food but the whole town was at the high school, at the game, so I went. I ran into a few people I knew—the McCains and their friends. It was amazing. Landon’s damn good. When I was leaving, I overheard a scuffle and found that same kid from the beach and some of his friends ganging up on Landon. He didn’t get hurt or anything, but I did have a talk with him and suggested he tell you or the coach or the deputy. That bully thing, that’s just all wrong. You never know where that’s going to stop.”

“In the locker-room shower?” she asked, lifting one brow.

He ran a hand over his head. “Yeah, I should’ve done something. It’s a hard call. Sixteen-year-old boys, they have their pride. It’s not like Landon’s getting knocked around because he’s the little guy or the nerdy guy. He said he could handle it and I thought he probably could. He’s a big guy, Landon. Tough. But I apologize. I should’ve gone over his head.”

She looked around the trailer. “But why are you here?” she asked. “What are you doing here, interceding for my brother? Do you work? What do you do?”

He gave her a second to catch her breath. What did she think? That he was some perv trolling for young men out of a trailer? “I’m between jobs.”

“Is that so?” she asked with an accusatory tone.

“It is so,” he said. “Ben and I were friends. We were going to meet in the mountains, go hunting. He died suddenly. Instead of looking for work, I came up here to find out what happened to him.”

“He fell down the stairs, mysterious circumstances,” she informed him. “And the idea of Landon hanging around here after that? I don’t love that idea.”

“I guess I don’t blame you. If it’s any comfort, Deputy McCain and I have a pretty tight watch on the place. But nothing more mysterious than my friend tripping has materialized. I think, Sarah, it was probably just a sad accident.”

“Yet you’re still here. Living in a trailer.”

He laughed at her suddenly. She was ferocious, and amazingly beautiful as she played the lioness. “Listen, Sarah, wanna lighten up? I live in the trailer because I can’t live in Ben’s place. It’s a disaster. I’m trying to clean it up.”

“And then?”

“Leave,” he said. “But you’re a little insulting. I lived in this trailer for two years in Corpus Christi.”

“Doing what?”

He leaned toward her. “Flying helicopter transport to offshore oil rigs in the Gulf for an oil company. Not rescue, transport. I’ve been flying helicopters since the Army. Fifteen years. I’ll probably fly again, but not offshore. Something else.” He loved the shocked look on her face. “After Ben’s death, plans changed. Right now, what I have to do is put this place right and settle Ben’s business. He had no family left. It’s going to take a few months. So I have a legitimate reason for being here. I’m not parked here to sell teenagers drugs or do any other disreputable or unlawful business. I asked Landon for his cell phone number and gave him mine in case...I don’t know, in case he needed someone’s help. He told me you were sitting alert for the Coast Guard and sometimes he was on his own.” He looked at her. “I was just being a good neighbor. Your brother, he’s a decent kid. And he’s proud of you. He cares about you. He said you’ve been through a lot lately.”

She stood. “Hmm. Yes. Well, that’s none of your concern.”

Cooper also stood. “I’m not concerned, Sarah. I’m what used to be called supportive. And you’re a really tough broad.”

“Don’t call me a broad.”

“Give me a reason.”

“Look, Mr....”

“Cooper. Hank Cooper, but hardly anyone calls me Hank. Just Cooper.”

But she was apparently bent on some formality, probably as a way to keep a distance between them. “Mr. Cooper, I’m responsible for Landon. Just me. It can be a challenge, given my job. But I just want to protect him.”

Cooper shook his head. “You’re going to have a problem with that.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“Because I think he wants to protect you.”

“He’s sixteen!”

Cooper gave a nod. “A very smart, strong and brave sixteen with some real high standards. He must have had a good role model.”

“He’s had no role model. Our father died when Landon was five, and my ex-husband is a jackass who abandoned him!”

Cooper put his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and rocked on his heels. He gave her a small smile. “It didn’t have to be a male role model, Sarah.”

Her mouth actually dropped open slightly. It appeared to take her a moment to absorb this. He could almost see the wheels turning. A compliment from the bad man in the trailer?

She closed her mouth. She stood a little taller. “Listen, Mr. Cooper, I’m going to be watching you and if you do anything to hurt my brother, you’re going to pay.”

“Understood,” he said, but he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face.

“Ham!” she ordered, going for the door. But the dog was way ahead of her and she almost fell over him. She jumped out of the trailer, stumbled over the dog and headed for the beach.

Cooper watched her go. He whistled. “Whew. Tough broad.”

Ten

Cooper dusted off his suit. Well, it was his suit now. Rochelle’s husband, Dave, wore suits to work every day, but a year or so ago, he’d been bitten by the chips-and-beer fairy, growing out of a few of his expensive suits. Of course Rochelle tried to put him on a diet, which was semi-successful, but the tight suits went away. So did the tight and oh-so-expensive Italian dress shirts. Up to that point, Cooper had one fairly late model sports coat and some nice slacks. He did have occasional dates and a wedding or funeral every couple of years.

He wasn’t big on suits. Yet, he looked in the mirror and couldn’t help but be impressed. He wondered if he’d survive in a desk job.

No. He wouldn’t.

The school gymnasium had been transformed for the dance and was full of kids, at least a couple hundred. It was also pretty flush with adults. Cooper was about the best-dressed one there, thanks to his beefy brother-in-law. Since Mac was tall, he was the first one Cooper picked out of the crowd. He got around to Mac’s side by skirting a wall decorated in crepe paper. Mac was close to the refreshment table and, after shaking Cooper’s hand, he passed a plastic cup toward him. “Punch?”

Cooper looked into the cup. “It’s pink,” he said.

“I know. Wait till you taste it.”

“How much of that crap do you have to drink before you can go home?”

Mac chuckled. “My job is to make sure nothing adult gets poured into the punch bowl.”

“You’re an amateur,” Cooper said. “With all these chaperones around the punch bowl, they’ll pour it right into their cups.”