Читать книгу Rocky Coast Romance - Mia Ross - Страница 12

Chapter Three

On his way back out to the lighthouse later that afternoon, Cooper congratulated himself on a successful residential closing. Granddad had always handled those, so Cooper hadn’t done one in a while. Fortunately the two real estate agents knew their stuff, and all he’d had to do was dot the i’s and cross the t’s for his client. Before long another young family would be calling Holiday Harbor home. It was a great way to end what had become an interesting day.

Bree Farrell fascinated him. At a young age he’d learned to read people, mostly by shutting up and listening to them talk. During long days on the water Granddad had taught him to watch the fish closely, reading their movements to predict where they were headed. You could do the same with people, he’d explained, interpreting their body language as well as their words to get a clear picture of how they actually felt. That skill came in handy when their behavior contradicted what they were saying.

Based on what he’d seen so far, Bree was fighting a bigger battle than she was admitting to. Despite her bravado, he saw the uncertainty in her dark eyes, muting the spark of intelligence that managed to snap through frequently enough to intrigue him. Fortunately she’d be leaving soon. All he had to do was get through the Fourth, and she’d be on her way back to Richmond.

It was better that way, he knew. He’d once gotten in way too deep with a woman committed to her career, and her rejection of his marriage proposal still stung. He had no intention of making the same mistake again.

As he pulled in at the lighthouse, he shoved those old regrets to the back of his mind. Someday, when he finally had time to get back into the dating scene, it would be with someone down-to-earth who loved the ocean as much as he did.

When he got to the end of the drive, he was surprised to find Bree waiting for him on the front stoop. He was even more surprised to see her scratching Reggie behind his ears, while the little pig grunted in delight.

“That’s not something you see every day,” Cooper teased as he stepped down.

Eyes twinkling with humor, she pointed a threatening finger at him. “If you tell a single soul I like this little oinker, I’ll sue you for defamation of character.”

“Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”

“You’re a lawyer. Don’t you lie for a living?”

He knew she was joking, but her accusation brought up more memories he’d rather leave buried in the past. Reminding himself she had no way of knowing that, he took a deep breath and let it go. “Never to pretty ladies sitting on porches. Besides, it’s not your fault. Reggie’s a shameless flirt.”

“He sure is.”

Chucking him under the chin, she made kissing noises but stopped short of actually delivering one. Obviously smitten, the pig closed his eyes and gave her his version of a smile, wagging his tail for good measure. It was one of the cutest things Cooper had ever seen. He’d take a picture, but he suspected Bree would toss his phone in the water to destroy the evidence. Still it was oddly comforting to know there was a soft heart under all that bluster. Recalling his earlier musings about the pretty reporter, he firmly put the brakes on that train of thought. She was here to do a job, and that was it. With a sharp mind and a tongue to match, she was the kind of woman who could drive a man crazy with no effort at all.

“The crews should be coming in about now,” he said. “Are you ready to go?”

“Definitely.”

As she shouldered her camera bag and stood up, the breeze ruffled through the long curls she’d left loose around her shoulders. She was dressed head to toe in black like a pint-size burglar, and he couldn’t help grinning. While full-on black might be appropriate for life in Richmond, here she’d stand out like a sore thumb.

Apparently he was staring a little too intently, because she frowned and glanced down at her trousers. “Am I covered in pig hair or something?”

“No. Why?”

“Usually when people grin like that, they’re making fun.”

She didn’t say “of me,” but Cooper easily filled in the blank. Seeing the hesitance in her eyes, he wouldn’t even think of suggesting she change her clothes. So she’d stand out. So what? With her striking looks and fearless demeanor, he had the feeling she’d turn heads no matter what she was wearing.

“Not me,” he assured her. “I’m looking forward to spending the evening with you, so I smiled. I promise not to do it again.”

A grateful smile brightened her features, transforming them with the pixie look he’d glimpsed earlier when she’d briefly let down her guard. It made her seem much younger, and he could envision her as a fresh-faced journalist, eager to take on the world before it turned against her. What had she been like back then? he wondered.

Realizing he’d ventured into dangerous territory, he pushed the emotion aside and smiled as he motioned her toward the car. “After you.”

“Why did you put the top and doors back on?” she asked when he opened the passenger side for her.

“Earlier today I got the feeling you didn’t appreciate the open-air look.”

“You didn’t have to do this for me. I’m not that picky.”

Did anyone ever go out of their way for her? Cooper wondered as he started the engine. His guess would be no, which explained her fierce independent streak. Being a lifelong New Englander, he’d always admired self-reliance. But for some reason thinking that Bree had no choice other than to fend for herself really bothered him.

Shrugging it off, he headed for the wharf. “I talked to some of the captains, and they’re thrilled that you’re coming down.”

“I wish you hadn’t done that. I prefer to do candid interviews.”

“Trust me,” Cooper told her with a chuckle. “These guys have been out on the water for twelve hours. You’re better off giving them a chance to clean up a little before you meet them.”

After a moment she admitted, “Okay. That makes sense.”

While they chatted about nothing in particular, Cooper’s opinion of her continued to improve. Her queries were thoughtful and out of the box, and she asked things most visitors didn’t consider important. Were the crews local or from elsewhere? Full-time or day laborers? Were the docks maintained by the town or the county? How many women worked on the crews?

With each question she asked him, his confidence in her abilities grew. Many in town—himself included—had questioned the wisdom of promoting Holiday Harbor to random outsiders. Their debate had revolved around the best way to accomplish their goals without being viewed as a joke or a tourist trap.

Cooper was now convinced that Bree was perfect for the job. It didn’t take a genius to figure out she had something to prove, not only to her editor, but to herself. He sensed that she’d do whatever it took to write an exceptional article and show Nick she could handle any challenge he wanted to throw at her.

Cooper was only too glad to help her do it.

When they arrived at the busy waterfront, every boat, from two-man skiff to commercial lobster boat, was tied up in port. Judging by the relative cleanliness of the crews, the captains had passed Cooper’s message along over their radios and ordered everyone to clean up before coming ashore. They wouldn’t pass muster for a night at the Metropolitan Opera, but they’d all made an effort to spiff up after their long, grueling day.

As he and Bree made their way down the ramp, she pulled a steno pad and pen out of the front pocket of her camera bag.

Cooper chuckled. “Going old school, huh?”

“Some people don’t trust technology.” Casting a glance down the dock, she smiled. “I’m guessing these guys will feel more comfortable with me if I take notes the old-fashioned way.”

When they reached the landing, he stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Hang on a minute.”

She opened her mouth to say something just as one of the veteran crewmen announced, “Off with your hats, fellas.”

They all removed their caps, lowering their heads as he continued. “Heavenly Father, we thank You for a beautiful day free of breakdowns and injuries. We pray the catch in our holds brings us a good price so we can afford to keep working the sea we love. In Your name we pray. Amen.”

Cooper echoed the sentiment and caught Bree’s look of surprise from the corner of his eye. “Something wrong?”

“No, I just didn’t expect to hear a sermon on the dock.”

“Their jobs are incredibly dangerous,” he explained patiently. “It’s important for them to know they’re not alone out there on the water.”

Still looking perplexed, she let the subject drop, and he stepped back to give her the spotlight. While she introduced herself to the fishermen, he marveled again at her ability to make people feel at ease. Everyone but him, it seemed. Unfortunately he still hadn’t figured out why.

“So tell me,” Bree addressed the oldest captain, a sixty-something old salt fondly referred to as Cap’n Jack. “What’s the biggest threat to your business these days?”

“Them over there.” Nodding toward a chartered fishing yacht, he scowled. “These rich guys plow into our fishing lanes and scare off half the catch. They just want to come back with something to stuff and mount over the fireplace in their den. But this is how we make our living and take care of our families.”

She cocked her head as if considering her response, but Cooper wouldn’t be surprised to learn she had most of her questions memorized. “They spend money here in town, though, at the hotels and restaurants. If they stop coming, how would you replace it?”

“Dunno.” His leathery face cracked into a scowl he aimed in Cooper’s direction. “Ask our new mayor.”

“You don’t approve of the job Mayor Landry’s doing?”

“No, missy, I don’t. Nothing against Cooper, o’course,” he added in a grudging half apology. “It’s just I don’t see the need to change things that’ve been workin’ the way they are for generations.”

There was some grumbled agreement, and Cooper carefully kept his expression neutral. All these men liked him well enough, but to them he was still wet behind the ears and in need of seasoning. The fact that Granddad was gone had no bearing on their opinions. They wanted the judge, and barring that, they wanted the town to continue running the way he’d done it for the past twenty years. Period, end of story.

“Aw, lay off, Jack,” one of his crew members chided. “Cooper ain’t like most college boys. He’s done his time out on the water.”

Bree turned to Cooper with undisguised astonishment. “You worked a fishing boat?”

“My uncle was a lobsterman. I worked with him in the summers when I got old enough.”

“Tough job,” she commented, then turned back to the crews. “I lived in Boston for a while, so I’ve got real respect for how hard you all work.”

“Boston.” One of the younger hands spat into the water. “Their winter’s got nothin’ on ours. In the spring we gotta chop a path through the ice just to get to the fish.”

Grinning, Bree jotted a note on her pad. While the others chimed in with their own tales, the interview devolved into general boasting. Then she did the worst thing possible.

“Can I get some pictures of you guys?”

Shouting agreement, they pushed and shoved to be in front. Finally Jack hollered for them all to knock it off and waded into the mix to sort them by height. While they got organized, Bree glanced over at Cooper and gave him a little wink, which told him she knew exactly what she was doing. Who’d have thought their very intense visitor had a playful streak? Cooper mused with a grin. She had these rough-and-tumble men right where she wanted them, playing up to her, falling all over themselves to give her unusual personal details for her article.

And photos? What man didn’t want a pretty woman taking his picture, telling him it just might wind up on the internet?

“Grab that camera, lawyer boy!” Jack called out. “We want a picture with the little lady.”

Shaking his head, Cooper grinned and took the 35mm from her. Then he waited while they did rock-paper-scissors to decide who got to stand next to her. As he focused in, he marveled at how quickly she’d gotten them all eating out of the palm of her hand.

If she was like this with men in general, he pitied the one who actually fell in love with her someday. The poor guy wouldn’t stand a chance.

* * *

Once she and Cooper had chosen their lobsters, Bree followed him up the metal gangplank, away from the commercial docks humming with activity. It was pretty warm, and the smell of fresh fish and seaweed permeated the salt-laden breeze.

Oh, her mother would love that one, she thought, scribbling it down. It was poetic and earthy at the same time, just like Mom. With seagulls circling overhead, the bustling port looked busy enough to support five towns.

Until she noticed the other side.

The far end of the U-shaped dock was completely empty. No boats, no people, even the access gate had been welded shut. Some of the wooden deck boards were missing, and algae covered the lower areas of everything that remained.

“How long has it been that way?” she asked, motioning toward the abandoned section.

“Five years, give or take. It got to be so expensive to maintain, the town council voted to close it down and save the money.”

It looked lonely and unwanted, tangible proof of the decline Cooper had described to her earlier. Now she understood his eagerness to entice tourists into the area. He didn’t want the rest of his hometown to end up like this.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his brow wrinkling with concern.

She’d been in lots of places that had seen better days, but she’d always managed to keep her professional distance. For some reason this old fishing village was different, and she’d need to put in more effort to remain objective. “Fine. Just hungry.”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing we’re here.”

Angling her away from the depressing scene, he motioned her ahead of him through a glass door etched with the Holiday Harbor logo and The Crow’s Nest beneath it in flowing script.

“Nice touch, using the same artwork.” Noting the familiar design from his shirt, she tapped it on her way through. “Visitors pick up on things like that.”

“That’s the general idea. Hi, Frances.”

“Cooper. I didn’t know you were coming in tonight.”

“Neither did I. Do you have a table on the deck?”

“For you? Always,” she gushed, giving Bree a suspicious once-over. “And who is this?”

“I’m sorry. Bree Farrell, Frances Cook. Bree came up from Richmond to do an article on Holiday Harbor.”

“Cooper!” a man yelled, hurrying over to clap him on the shoulder. Tie askew, he was wearing a button-down and suit jacket with a Vote for Derek! button done up in red, white and blue. Turning to Bree, he offered his hand. “Derek Timms. Cooper and I grew up here and then went to Yale Law together. Since he’s practicing here, I just opened my own firm in Oakbridge. I don’t know how this goofball does it, but he always manages to show up with the prettiest girl in the place.”

“She’s not my date, you moron. She’s a reporter.” He flipped the outrageous button with his finger. “And she can’t vote for you, so just can the speech.”

“What are you running for?” Bree asked.

“Mayor.” When she flashed Cooper a baffled look, Derek laughed. “Cooper may be allergic to power, but I’m not. We see things the same way, so except for the fact that I’m a much better dresser, the town probably won’t even notice the difference.”

Cooper chuckled in apparent agreement. “Just as long as you keep those greedy developers outta here, I’ll be happy.”

After a quick salute, Derek said, “Otter can’t make it for golf next Friday, so we’ve got a spot. Whattya say?”

“Otter?” Bree echoed with a grin. “Is he a really good swimmer or something?”

“Or something,” Cooper answered with a grin of his own before focusing on his friend. “Where are you guys playing?”

“Deer Run, the new club over in Oakbridge. Longest course within a hundred miles. You can try out that fancy new driver your mom got you for your birthday.”

The two men began discussing various aspects of the new course, leaving Bree at the mercy of Frances. Wonderful.

“A real-live reporter, all the way up here. How about that?” the young woman commented through a frigid smile. “What do you think of our little town?”

“I haven’t seen much, but the people I’ve met so far are fantastic.” She added a little bite to her tone to let her know she might be able to fool a nice guy like Cooper, but Bree had her number.

“Sorry about that,” Cooper apologized to Bree as Derek headed back to his table. “But it’s impossible to get a tee time at that new club.”

For the hostess’s benefit, Bree smiled. “No problem.”

Frances escorted them to a secluded table on the deck overlooking the bay. Because he was pulling out Bree’s chair, he didn’t notice the longing look Frances tossed back over her shoulder as she left. Bree could hardly blame her. Even in Richmond Cooper would be considered quite the catch. With so little competition up here, he must look like a prince.

Once they were settled, he crossed his arms on the table. “The crews really warmed up to you, didn’t they?”

Taking a sip of her water, she replied, “They were awesome. And very entertaining. It’s easy to see how much they love this place.”

He cocked his head with a knowing look. “But you don’t share their opinion.”

She didn’t, but Bree wisely refrained from admitting it outright. “I just got here, so I haven’t formed an opinion yet.”

“How ’bout a gut feel? I won’t hold you to it or anything, just curious.”

She’d learned the hard way not to voice her impressions, first or otherwise. But his genuine kindness had put some of those usual fears to rest, and she instinctively knew she could trust him. “I love the lighthouse. It’s really beautiful out there.”

Judging by his bright grin, she’d hit one of his favorite buttons. “Yeah, it is. Kaleidoscope has over a million readers nationwide, and I’m hoping we can get enough coverage that people will start to recognize the name and want to come check things out.”

“That’s my goal, too.” She’d meant every word, but his wary look made her think he didn’t believe her. “Did I say something wrong?”

He hesitated, clearly debating whether to start something with her. They didn’t know each other well, and she wondered just how much backbone this small-town mayor had under that neatly pressed blue oxford shirt.

Leaning in, his eyes darkened to a murky color that warned her a storm was coming. “Let’s get one thing straight right now. I know you’re here to rescue your career from the trash heap. I also know this is the last spot on earth you want to be. So let’s not pretend you came because Holiday Harbor fascinates you and you’re thrilled with this assignment.”

Narrowing her eyes, she angled closer just to show him she wasn’t intimidated. She seldom went toe-to-toe with such a worthy opponent, and she relished the opportunity. “Fair enough. Since we’re being so honest, tell me why you really came back to a town so small, you need a magnifying glass to find it on a map.”

A waitress headed their way, and they both eased back to create a more sociable appearance. She took their appetizer order, casting several admiring looks at Cooper before strolling back inside.

“Sickening,” Bree groused. “Does every woman within five miles have a thing for you?”

“Actually the older ones prefer my Uncle Joe.”

He said it with a completely straight face, and she had to laugh. “You must have killed in the courtroom. I’m usually good at reading people, and I couldn’t tell you were joking.”

“I wasn’t.” Taking a sip of water, he set it down and began. “Anyway, like I told you earlier, after Yale I worked at a big firm in New York. Lots of cases, high-profile clients, all the trimmings.”

Not all of it had been good, she deduced from his shifting expressions. Watching him tell it was even better than digging it up online. “And you dated—let me guess—an actress.”

“A model.” His mouth quirked into a cute half grin. “I was almost engaged to Felicia.”

“The Felicia?” When he nodded, she clapped quietly. “Very nice. But you said ‘almost.’ What happened?”

“I had a major court case that went on forever. Long story short, we won, and my client was thrilled with the result.” He paused, waiting until the waitress set down their crab cakes and informed them their lobsters would be out shortly. Once she was gone, he continued. “Then the moron told me I’d had a little help winning the case.”

Bree leaned in. “From the judge?”

Cooper shook his head. “From my client. Apparently, he didn’t tell me everything, just what he felt I needed to know to get him acquitted.”

“He lied to you?”

“Withheld key facts,” Cooper corrected her with a grimace. “Since it was a complex financial issue, the details might not have mattered to the jury, but they mattered to me. I’d faced that kind of thing a few times before, but this time I couldn’t rationalize it away. The next day I quit my job and asked Felicia to come back here and marry me.”

Bree made a show of looking around. “Not exactly nirvana for models.”

“No, but I thought she loved me and wanted to be my wife.” Another grimace. “Turned out she loved New York more.”

A few choice words came to mind, but Bree kept them to herself. He’d loved the woman enough to marry her after all. It wouldn’t make him feel any better if Bree insulted the self-centered twit, even if she totally deserved it.

“Now it’s your turn,” Cooper said, popping half a crab cake into his mouth. “Should I be worried about some jealous boyfriend coming to beat me up for taking you out to dinner?”

“You might,” she said in between bites. “If I had one.”

“You’re kidding.” When she shook her head, he stared at her like she’d just beamed in from another galaxy. “How does that happen to someone as pretty as you?”

Since the man had been engaged to one of People magazine’s Most Beautiful Women, and had a very dry wit besides, Bree wasn’t sure she should take him seriously. But his stunned demeanor never changed, and she decided he was playing it straight this time.

“I’m too busy,” she said simply. When he cocked his head in disbelief, she figured that since he’d been up front with her, she owed him the truth. “Even if I wasn’t, my parents’ messy divorce convinced me that constant traveling and marriage don’t mix.”

Cooper absorbed it with a somber expression. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be. I was in college when they finally split, and to be honest, it was a relief. My dad was an AP correspondent, and we moved around a lot. When he was on assignment, they fought about him being away too much. When he was home, they fought about him being underfoot. Not the best model for happily ever after.”

“I guess not.” After a sip of water, he asked, “Which one of them came up with your unique name?”

Bree groaned. “My mother. She’s a hopeless romantic, and her favorite movie is Sabrina. You know, the one where the two rich brothers fall in love with the butler’s daughter who used to be a plain Jane and—poof!—turns into Audrey Hepburn?”

Grinning, Cooper forked up a cherry tomato from his salad. “Sounds familiar.”

“As if that wasn’t mortifying enough, she saddled me with Constance for a middle name. It’s a tribute to some aunt she adored, but really, who uses names like that anymore?”

He laughed, and even though it was at her expense, she couldn’t help joining in. There was something about him that made her feel at ease, as if he’d pushed some invisible “relax” button inside her that no one else had ever found. While they devoured their lobsters, they chatted comfortably about nothing in particular. Before long, it felt as if they’d known each other for years instead of only a few hours.

For dessert they ordered a humongous slice of Boston cream pie and two forks. It was like a scene from some gushy romantic movie, but Bree was having such a great time, she decided to ignore the sappiness and just enjoy the evening.

They’d nearly finished off their pie when he said, “I almost forgot to tell you how the lighthouse got its name.”

Actually Mavis already had, but Bree decided to let him have his moment. “That’s right. Go ahead.”

“After a dozen ships or so broke up on those rocks, the townsfolk got together and built the tower. They called it Last Chance because it was the captains’ last chance to correct their course before running aground.”

“Neat story,” she murmured, scribbling it down even though she’d recorded Mavis telling it earlier. Normally she wouldn’t humor a source this way, but Cooper had been so great with her, she didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

“So, that’s it.” Setting down his dessert fork, he checked his watch. “I guess I should get you back, then.”

It had been a long, exhausting day, and she was definitely ready to hit the sack. But when she opened her mouth to agree, she heard herself say, “If you’ve got time, I wouldn’t mind hearing some more about the summer-long regatta.”

What? Where had that come from? Betrayed by her suddenly unpredictable emotions, Bree forced herself to smile as if she hadn’t completely lost her mind.

Fortunately Cooper either didn’t notice her momentary lapse of sanity or he was so accustomed to odd characters it didn’t bother him. “Sure. What do you want to know?”

“Whatever you think people who aren’t from around here would find interesting. Quirky,” she clarified, pulling her steno pad over to take notes. “Like what kind of costume does Reggie wear?”

Threading his fingers together on the table, Cooper grinned. “He’s always Teddy Roosevelt. Even wears little glasses and a forest ranger’s hat.”

“Who does Mavis go as?”

“Mavis. She doesn’t think much of dressing up herself, but she’s got no reservations about decking out Reggie. She says he enjoys pretending to be someone else once in a while.”

Laughing, Bree jotted that down and set up her phone to record. If this first nugget was any indication, she was in for some Holiday Harbor gold.