Cooper (The Family Simon #6) - Juliana Stone Page 0,46

startled, surprised, and, if Cooper was reading it correctly, more than a little bit uncomfortable. He opened his mouth to say something but then snapped it shut, shuffling his feet.

Coward.

Gently, Morgan cleared her throat and spoke. “Hello, Nathan.”

At the sound of her voice, the woman turned, and the hostess watched the exchange, not bothering to hide her interest.

“Oh my God, Morgan. I…” Her voice trailed off and she looked uncomfortable. “I’ve been meaning to call, but…”

Nathan found his voice. He spoke hesitantly and took a step back from the woman. “I heard you were back in town.”

“I heard the same about you.” Morgan stood a little straighter.

“Yes, I’m working with my dad.”

“What a coincidence. So am I.”

An awkward moment passed, and then Morgan turned to Cooper. “This is Nathan and this…this is Christy.” She paused, and her bottom lip trembled.

He gave her a small wink before stepping forward. “Nice to meet you. I’m Cooper.”

The two men shook hands, and Cooper kept his grip firm, his gaze direct. They each took measure of the other in the way that men do, and then Cooper let his hand drop.

“As in Cooper Simon, Maverick’s brother?” Christy asked, finally finding her voice again.

He turned to her and nodded. “You know him?”

“Not really. I mean, I’ve met him once. At, ah, a community event thing where he sang.” Christy looked at Morgan with a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes on account of the fact she looked nervous as hell. “You look really good, Morgan.”

“You look beautiful.” That from Nathan. He looked as if he hadn’t meant to speak, but his face spoke volumes, and the guy’s face reddened. “Maybe we can grab a coffee or…”

Morgan stiffened, her face now as pale as the linen on the tables. Candlelight threw shadows across her features, emphasizing the delicate bone structure along her jaw, the generous curve of her mouth.

“Or maybe…maybe we can just talk or something.” Nathan half shrugged and then shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. Christy’s lips were pinched, and she slid her arm through Nathan’s—the point obvious: He’s mine.

The hostess interrupted, holding up two menus, and indicated Nathan and Christy should follow her to their table. Nathan held on for a few seconds longer, watching Morgan.

“It was really good to see you.”

Morgan gave a quick, jerky nod, and Cooper led her to the front reception area, where he paid their bill before heading out to a cold wind off the ocean and a crisp night filled with stars. Cooper fired up his truck and glanced at Morgan. She’d refused his jacket, and he upped the heat.

“Where do you want to go?” he asked gently, trying to gauge her mood. It was early, and he wasn’t willing to give up her company just yet.

Her head was turned, her profile soft as she gazed out the window, into the night sky. Morgan’s fingers kneaded the edge of the seat belt, and her shoulders were hunched forward. Had she heard him? He was just about to repeat himself when she spoke, her voice low and husky and halting.

“I’ve known Nathan Davidson since the third grade.”

Silence followed those words, but Morgan didn’t take her gaze from the window. The throaty hum of the engine took over for a few moments until she continued.

“He was from Alaska and moved here when his dad opened a law office in town. There was some sort of family connection, but I can’t remember what it was.” Her warm breath created condensation on the window, and she rubbed at it absently. “A cousin, maybe?

“To everyone in my class, he was the new kid, but to me…he was exotic. This tall, gangly boy who’d traveled from a state no one I knew had ever visited. We all wanted to be his best friend. We all wanted the new boy to like us. He and Hank bonded over hockey and football, and Nathan didn’t know I existed until the tenth grade.”

Her voice trailed off, and she blew out a long, slow breath, fogging the window even more. “Christy I’ve known since birth.” She turned to him, those big eyes luminous. “Literally. We were born a few hours apart at St. Mary’s, and most every memory I have, Christy is in it. We learned to ride bikes together. Attended Bible camp. Baseball. Dolls. Ran track…

“She was my best friend. I could tell her anything. My hopes and dreams. The things that made me sad or angry or scared.