A Marine for His Mom Page 6

  “Wow, this place is awesome!” Hunter jumped out of the car before his mom put it in Park.

  Cooper had seen a stream running along the main road, but now that he opened the car door, he could tell by the sound of running water that it had to be close to the house.

  The log cabin was somewhat plain and shaped like a box, but it had big paned windows and a covered patio. From the outside it appeared pretty simple and well maintained, which, coupled with the tranquil melody of the nearby stream, allowed him to let out his pent-up breath and relax his shoulders.

  “Hunter,” Maxine said, “get back in the car. We can’t stay. We’re supposed to be having Sunday dinner at Gram’s house.”

  “Hey, Coop, you want to come over to my Gram’s house for dinner tonight?”

  Before Cooper could answer, Maxine placed an arm around her son and spoke quietly but apparently firmly, causing the boy to nod his head and scuff his sneaker toe at a stone embedded in the driveway.

  He assumed his little buddy was getting a talking-to about inviting people over without asking permission. He didn’t want to be the cause of any more problems between the boy and his mother, so Cooper stretched and purposely yawned. “Actually, my knee is killing me and I really need to get some sleep. Maybe you can come see the place later this week. We can do some exploring and maybe catch a few fish. I’ll talk to your mom, and we’ll figure out a time that works for both of us.”

  “Okay.” The boy lowered his head in dejection and gave Cooper a hug before climbing in the front seat. “I’ll see you later.”

  Cooper thought Maxine would’ve appreciated his help in defusing the situation and giving her an excuse to get the hell away from him, but instead of appearing relieved, her brows drew tightly together over confused eyes.

  When he brushed past her on his way to the rear of the vehicle, she jumped out of his way. “Where are you going?”

  “To get my duffel out of the back of your car, if that’s okay with you.”

  “Oh. Yeah. Of course. You just startled me.”

  The woman was a jumble of nerves. She’d been like an ice queen throughout the drive and was now pacing around him like a popcorn kernel about to pop.

  He grabbed his bag and barely had it out of the back when she reached for the handle on the rear hatch and nearly slammed it down on him.

  He lowered his voice so Hunter wouldn’t hear him. “I get it, lady. You don’t want me around. But can you at least let me get my gear out of your car before you back over me and leave my body up here in the Idaho mountains?”

  “I would never back over you.”

  “Could have fooled me,” he muttered.

  She whipped around and pierced him with those cold blue eyes. “I wouldn’t want any of those perfect muscles to dent my fenders.” Then she climbed back in the car and was backing out onto the graveled drive much quicker than she’d navigated it while driving forward.

  Well, at least she’d noticed his muscles. And she’d thought they were strong enough to dent her car. He’d take that as a compliment.

  Smiling, he carried his bag onto the porch and found the green door unlocked. This town might be like Mayberry RFD, but he was no Barney Fife. He kept his dead bolts in place and his gun nearby no matter where he was.

  He flicked a switch inside the doorway, illuminating the cabin, where several rag rugs adorned the hardwood floor and a denim-covered sofa sat in front of a stone fireplace. The kitchen and dining room were open and part of the living area, which had beige-colored walls and dark beamed ceilings.

  The rustic cabin was deceptively appealing. Just like the woman who’d driven him here. Even though Maxine Walker seemed like a contemporary replica of one of those 1950’s sitcom mother figures baking cookies and doting on her kid, she was beautiful and cold just like the inside of this house, in which he’d be staying for who knew how long.

  Damn. He needed to stop thinking of her and why he was even in Sugar Falls, and get a fire started before he froze. It might be sunny outside during the spring day, but obviously the closed up cabin retained the chill of the night air. He must’ve gotten soft sitting in that military hospital because he was losing his edge on surviving in the elements.

  A small stack of chopped wood, as well as kindling and a book of matches, rested next to the fireplace. So he knelt by the open hearth and proceeded to make a fire. When the flame caught hold, he stood back and put his hands out to absorb some of the heat.

  Not bad for someone who’d grown up a city boy. Actually, if he was honest, he hadn’t really grown up until he’d joined the Corps. Being a marine taught him everything he ever needed to know about surviving in the world.

  So then, how would he survive now that he was no longer a marine?

  He looked around the comfortable cabin. Gregson had underrepresented how nice the place was. Heck, the psychologist had underrepresented how nice the whole area was. Not nice as in fancy, but nice as in, well, cozy.

  He cursed softly to himself, not wanting to think of the town or the cabin as anything other than practical.

  Once Cooper assured himself that the fire would continue to blaze without fizzling out, he walked over to the kitchen, opened the pantry and took stock of what groceries he’d need from the small market in town. There was a bottle of Scotch, which could come in handy. Other than that, there were some canned goods—mostly tuna and green beans—and a jar of peanut butter. He’d made do with a lot worse.

  The sun had already set and he wasn’t sure what time this charming but rinky-dink town closed up for the night. But the lack of sleep on the flight, plus the mountain air and oxygen level was already doing a number on him. The grocery shopping would have to wait until morning.

  The refrigerator was clean, but totally empty and unplugged. He shoved the cord into the wall and it hummed to life.

  He rummaged in the drawers for a can opener and fork and was surprised at how organized and well-equipped the tiny kitchen was. According to Gregson, the cabin hadn’t been used in years. The doctor’s sister—Hunter’s teacher—checked on it regularly, but she lived in Boise and commuted to work.

  As much as Cooper wanted to ruffle Maxine’s feathers and accept Hunter’s invitation for a home-cooked dinner, he hadn’t lied about his excuse—he really did want to get some sleep. He was practically operating on fumes and his knee was throbbing.

  While standing at the kitchen counter, he ate the tuna straight from the can. Then he took two of his pain meds and guzzled down a glass of ice-cold tap water. Damn, that was good—probably because it was so pure and came straight from its source, the Sugar Falls River.

  The fire was doing its job and the cabin was much warmer now. He just hoped the pills worked as well. Maybe a liquid chaser would do the trick. He’d like nothing better than to crash until morning.

  After pouring himself three fingers of Scotch—for medicinal purposes only—he carried his drink and his duffel to the small hallway and looked at his bedroom options. The one on the left contained a set of quilt-covered bunk beds, but the one on the right, with a huge king-size bed made out of split logs and covered with a fluffy goose down comforter, won out.

  He tossed all of his worldly possessions—which fit nicely into the green canvas bag—onto a chair in the corner before downing the Scotch, stripping off his clothes and slipping between the sheets. It must’ve been the exhaustion coupled with the medication and the booze that made him long for a sexy, curly haired blonde to slide in next to him and, for once, flash him a smile.

  Chapter Four

  “Mom, why did you have to be so mean to Cooper? Now he’ll probably hate us and want to leave town first thing tomorrow morning.”

  Hunter was right, and Maxine had no good explanation to give for her ill-mannered behavior. Well, no explanation that a ten-year-old boy without a clue ab
out human attraction could understand.

  She herself didn’t even understand it. There was something about Cooper that set her on edge. No man had ever frustrated her so much, and she’d been married to the King of Frustration.

  Maybe it was because she was so damn attracted to Cooper. Bo had been good-looking in a fresh young college student sort of way. But Cooper was a man. Not to mention he related to her son in a way nobody else ever had. How could that not influence Maxine’s heart just a little?

  “I’m sorry, Hunter. Cooper is your friend, and I didn’t want to get in the way, so I kept quiet so you two could talk. Besides, I don’t really know him as well as you, and I guess I was nervous. Plus, I didn’t want to be late to Gram’s house for dinner.”

  There. That was a mostly honest answer.

  “But, Mom, we just left him at the cabin without even making sure he got inside okay. What if the power is out or if he doesn’t have any groceries or anything to eat in there?”

  Bless her son for being so thoughtful. But maybe Gunny Heartthrob should have thought about that before he purposely accepted a ride she’d never offered—twice.

  “There’s a Jeep he planned to use, remember? And you gave him directions back to town so he could find his way around and buy himself whatever he needed. I’m sure he’ll be fine, kiddo.”

  “But what if his knee hurts too much to drive or the Jeep doesn’t run? Or what if it was stolen by robbers? Wait, what if a band of robbers had been using that cabin for their hideout, and we just left Cooper there all alone with no phone and no way out? Or worse! What if the robbers are really zombies who steal people’s hearts for the zombie science experiments they’re conducting? Mom, we have to go back and get him.”

  “Hunter, I’m sure there aren’t any robbers or zombies in the cabin.” Besides, the zombies would be in for a big disappointment when they realized that Cooper didn’t seem to have much of a heart, but Maxine kept that opinion to herself. “Even if there were problems with the electricity or the Jeep, Cooper was a marine. I’m sure he can handle himself out there in the woods.”

  “But what if...”

  “Enough, Hunter.” Maxine stopped her son’s tirade when she saw her former mother-in-law standing on the wraparound deck of the biggest and most expensive house in Sugar Falls. She didn’t know how Bo’s biggest fan would react to all the Cooper talk or if Cessy would feel her son’s memory was being undermined by Hunter’s infatuation with a new male hero. Plus, Hunter had a good point, and she was already feeling like a complete jerk for just abandoning the man like that. “I’ll tell you what. You stay here with Gram, and I’ll run by the market and then back to the cabin to make sure Cooper’s okay.”

  “I’ll go with you.” Hunter stayed in his seat even though Cessy was now off the porch and heading to their car.

  “No, Gram wants you to show her how to set up her new flat-screen TV. I’ll be back in thirty minutes.”

  After telling Cessy that she forgot something at the market—the less her mother-in-law knew, the better—Maxine drove back toward town. It would take her ten minutes to get up the mountain to Cooper’s cabin. That left her with five minutes to get groceries and fifteen minutes to get back to Cessy’s in time for her chicken dinner, which seemed to be the only thing her mother-in-law ever cooked on Sunday nights.

  She parked in the side lot at Duncan’s and grabbed a small metal cart from the rack out front. Normally, she took her time saying hello to her neighbors and friends if she saw them in the store. But she was on a mission this evening and quickly grabbed a loaf of sliced bread, some milk and a few packages of meat and cheese from the deli section. Hmmm. What else would a bachelor marine like? Maybe some cereal or some fresh produce?

  Wait, she just wanted to make sure he didn’t starve to death. She didn’t need to stock his pantry. She headed to the front of the store and passed a heated display case containing fresh roasted chickens.

  Maybe he’d like something hot to eat tonight. She had been a little snotty earlier, and didn’t normally get so defensive. Maybe this would be an olive branch of some sort.

  Mauricio Norte was behind the counter and turned to help Maxine just as she’d decided not to waste any more time at the store.

  “What can I get you, Miss Maxine?” the older man in the clean white apron asked.

  “I’ll take one of these chickens please, Mauricio.”

  “Oh, was there a problem with the one I sold Miss Cessy earlier?”

  “Wait.” She paused. “You sold a roasted chicken to my mother-in-law today? On Sunday?”

  “Yes. We only make the chickens on Sunday, and Miss Cessy buys one every week.”

  Maxine should’ve known. For the past three years, the woman had been passing off a store-bought meal as her own. Now she didn’t feel so badly for making them hold dinner for her so she could take an arrogant marine some food.

  After checking out, she threw the two paper bags into the back of her late model Explorer. She slammed the rear hatch, which crunched on something—probably one of the cereal boxes. Oh, well. A little smashed wheat bran wouldn’t hurt him.

  She got in her seat and buckled up just as she was pulling out of the lot and onto Snowflake Boulevard. She had fifteen minutes to make it to the cabin and back in time for dinner. Of course, Cessy was probably already giving Hunter the third degree about his pen pal’s indefinite stay, and Maxine didn’t want any part of that interrogation.

  She almost missed the turnoff for the cabin for the second time today, but she slammed on her brakes before it was too late. Her rear tires fishtailed, and she heard the grocery bags topple over. Great. With each divot in the dirt road, the car bounced, causing the groceries to tumble around.

  The long gray plume of smoke coming out of the cabin’s chimney confirmed what she’d known all along. The man had gotten inside safe and sound and didn’t need her or Hunter worrying about him.

  But she couldn’t go back to Cessy’s with a trunk load of spilled groceries. Besides, she really should apologize for her behavior earlier. She got out of the car and opened the rear hatch to assess the damage.

  Damn.

  It wasn’t the box of cereal that had gotten smashed in the rear door. It was the plastic container for the chicken, which had torn free of its compartment and, along with its juices, had slipped and sloshed all over the light upholstery.

  Double damn.

  She wiped the chicken off as best she could and put it back in the container. Good thing she kept her car fairly clean and vacuumed. It should be safe enough to eat.

  The paper bag was leaking chicken juice, but there was nowhere else to put all the groceries. She piled everything back into the two sacks and carried them to the front porch, dribbling juice as she went.

  She knocked, balancing the dripping chicken and sandwich fixings in one arm.

  No answer.

  She could just leave the groceries on the porch. But then Hunter would want to know if she’d apologized to Cooper for the way she’d acted, or he’d want to know if she was sure there were no robbers or zombies looming nearby...

  Ugh. She knocked again, this time louder and longer. She kept up the stream of knocking until her knuckles grew numb and she was about to drop the chicken through the juicy tear in the bag.

  Suddenly, the door swung open and there he stood, his hair sticking up on the left side of his head, his eyes half-closed. He had a dazed look about him—as if he’d just woken up. And as her gaze dropped to his bare chest, which was phenomenal, with two perfectly rounded pecs tapering down into a set of chiseled abs covered in a dusting of light brown hair, she realized he was only wearing boxer shorts.

  He looked warm and sexy and half-aroused. Her first thought was that she wouldn’t mind waking up to that every morning. Her second thought was to squeeze her eyes closed and block
out the embarrassing realization.

  “I...uh...brought you some groceries.” She held up the bags just as the chicken tore through the brown paper and landed on the porch, rolling out of the smashed container. The loaf of bread dropped out next.

  “Oops.” She laughed, self-conscious at her awkwardness. Here she was, standing in front of an almost-naked man and spilling food all over the place.

  She would’ve bent down to pick it up, but his words stopped her.

  “You smiled,” he said. “At me. Finally.”

  Again she noted the glazed look in his eyes. Was he still asleep? Maybe he was a sleepwalker. He didn’t appear to be angry at her, but he definitely seemed groggy and out of it.

  “I smile all the time.” She wondered if he even knew who she was.

  “I’ve been waiting for you to smile at me. The whole time I was in the hospital I thought about you. And now you’re here.” He reached toward her, and his fingers grazed her cheek. “You’re so beautiful.”

  Her heart tumbled as if it had been in the ripped bag with the chicken. She should’ve backed away, but she couldn’t. He had to be talking about another woman and didn’t realize she was the wrong person. But as his fingers stroked her cheek, she leaned into the callused warmth. His thumb trailed down to the corner of her mouth, and she clenched her teeth together to keep from kissing it.

  The other sack of groceries dropped from her hand, but she let them fall and reached out to hold on to something before she collapsed onto the porch just like everything else. And while the doorjamb might have been a safer bet, she gripped his bare shoulder instead.

  She turned her face into his palm, her fingers making the same delicate pattern along his skin.

  “You look like an angel when you’re not mad at me,” he said. “I want you to look at me like that all the time. Like my sweet cookie-queen angel.”