Page 2 of This Time Around
Right.Because working a ranch allowed for spa days and naps.
We said our goodbyes, and by the time I was back in the horse barn feeding the horses, I’d compiled a mental list of everything to be done before Cooper arrived.
We had a guesthouse, a small, two-bedroom house one hundred yards from the main house.It hadn’t been used since the last time we had company, during my parents’ funeral.
I’d need to spend the nights when I was done with the farm work getting it ready, dusting and vacuuming and cleaning and changing sheets.
“Yeah, definitely no spa days for me,” I muttered to Gray, one of my favorite Arabian horses.He was the horse I learned to ride on.Now that he was getting old, I couldn’t ride him much to do work, but he was my favorite.
He neighed against my palm as I handed him an extra apple, gave him a good rubdown, and then I headed back outside.
By the time night fell and I climbed into bed exhausted, barely managing to find the energy to pull on one of Joseph’s old college shirts from Iowa State University, I’d completely forgotten all about Max’s phone call or the impending visit from Cooper Hawke.
I never should have GoogledCooper Hawke.After spending hours preparing the guesthouse for him, looking him up online had to be one of the largest mistakes I’d ever made in my life.
He was everything masculine that single girls dreamed about at night when they didn’t have a man to help them take care of their needs.A few hours spent reading the gossip surrounding his recent estrangement from his wife—a Brazilian supermodel—and I could understand the attraction.
Not that I’d dreamed of him taking care of my needs.That part of me died the day Joseph did—the same night we’d had a horrific fight, our worst ever, and he’d lost control of his truck on icy roads.
The day Joseph died, my world darkened.He left me with a pile of anger and questions that would never be answered.
But I was still a female, one who could understand why Cooper, a ridiculously famous actor, could drive women crazy with a wink from his light green and intoxicating eyes.As I spent my time searching through photos and articles of him, I could also see the friendly and teasing grin he used on red carpet appearances and when talking about his upcoming movies on late night talk shows had darkened over the last few months.
His wife, Camilla Rinaldi, was claiming she came home and found Cooper in a compromising position with their housekeeper.More than once, he’d denied the accusations.
Considering her expression hadn’t changed in the recent months and her voice was the loudest, I figured she was the guilty party.In my experience, the most deafening voice tried to blare out the truth with volume.A part of me admired Cooper for not going for her throat in what had become an evil and contestable pending divorce settlement.
It wasn’t only the financial arguments that made me feel for Cooper.It was the lost look in his eyes.The haze of grief and sadness told me he was mourning the loss of something—someone—dear to him.I recognized that same haze in my own expression.
I didn’t want anything to bind Cooper and I together.He was coming here to get some space from the gossip in Hollywood.He was coming to be put to work on a ranch.
We’d work long hours together.I’d teach him everything I knew, and I hoped like hell he wasn’t too good, too arrogant or toopreppyto be afraid of getting his hands and boots a bit dirty while he was here.
I’d help him.Give him some peace and quiet.
And then I’d send him back to California where he could return to his life.
Then, I’d be left alone with mine.
