Cooper (The Family Simon #6) - Juliana Stone Page 0,28

still warm, her steps noticeably lighter, Morgan made her way to the kitchen. She rooted through the cupboards until she found a box of treats for the dog. And while Stanley munched away happily on his Milk-Bone she got to work.

She’d been in a funk all week. It was time to let some of that weight go.

She threw open the window above the sink and inhaled a shot of crisp New England air. The sun was shining, and maybe today would be a good day. Humming to herself, not thinking about anything other than how light she felt right now, in this moment, Morgan unzipped her sweater, tossed it onto a chair, and opened the fridge.

11

Cooper pulled on a pair of jeans, shoved his feet into his shoes, and yanked a steel-gray Henley over his head. His hair was still damp, but he slicked it back, tossed his cell phone onto the table beside his bed, and headed for the stairs. He paused at the top, realizing his heart was thumping and he was way too anxious to get to the kitchen.

The thought pulled him up short, and he frowned.

He needed to dial back this shit. And yet… The look in Morgan’s eyes stirred something inside him. Something hot and fierce. It felt like his skin was pulled too tight, leaving him agitated and ramped up.

He took a few extra seconds, running his hands over his face and rolling his shoulders. “Get it together,” he muttered, surprised at the heat in his gut. What the hell? This was Morgan. Aside from the fact she worked for him, he wasn’t even sure she liked him all that much.

He needed to get laid. End of story.

As soon as Easter was over and his mother was gone, he’d look after that problem. He might have to take off for a few days and hook up with one of his go-to girls, but hell, a few days of lost work would be worth it. It had been a long, dry stretch, and it was time he ended the drought.

Decision made, Cooper exhaled and headed down the stairs.

As he approached the kitchen, he slowed and then stopped just in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe, watching the scene before him. The radio was on, and Morgan was scrubbing potatoes at the sink, humming softly to herself, while the dog sat at her feet, tail wagging madly. Stanley’s head was cocked to the side as if listening intently to Morgan while he waited patiently for something. Morgan finished the potato in her hand and then reached for something on the counter—a biscuit by the looks of it.

She tossed it in Stanley’s waiting mouth and smiled at the dog. Cooper couldn’t drag his eyes from her. The smile transformed her entire face into something soft. Long tendrils of hair had come loose from her ponytail. They curled around her collarbone, and he followed them down, realizing for the first time he’d never seen her in anything other than a large sweatshirt or a cardigan or that god-awful green sweater she’d worn the first day at the church social. Hell, even the top she’d worn on St. Patrick’s Day had pretty much covered her up.

Right now, a plain white T-shirt clung to curves that, in Cooper’s opinion, should never be covered up. Yoga pants (every man on the planet should say a prayer to the god of yoga pants) cupped a sweetly curved ass, and showed off toned, athletic legs.

That ball of heat in his gut intensified as she bent over and murmured something to Stanley. Cooper should have announced his arrival at that point, but considering she’d caught him naked, he figured they were even.

Besides, he was enjoying this soft, open, and happy side of Morgan.

She washed her hands at the sink and turned the other way to grab another potato, when Cooper’s gaze narrowed and everything in him stilled. The skin on her right arm was puckered and horribly scarred. From what he could see, it started from just above her elbow and, crawling upward, disappeared beneath her T-shirt and reappeared at the crook of her neck.

It was unexpected, and Cooper was still looking at the scars when she straightened and glanced up at him. Shit.

Her smile slowly faded, as did the softness in her face, while her gaze moved to the island. He spied her sweater hanging over the side of one of the tall stools.

Stanley barked, and she jumped, moving a few feet back