Cooper (The Family Simon #6) - Juliana Stone Page 0,47
Nathan…” Morgan exhaled and rested her head back against the seat. “She was my best friend. I was closer to her than most of my family. And now…”
She shuddered, and Cooper couldn’t help himself. He unbuckled his seat belt and moved over until he was close. So close he could see the tears that clung to her lashes. The bit of gloss still clinging to her lips. A small scar he’d never noticed, there above her right eyebrow.
Something stirred in his chest. Something hot and hard and full of emotion. He reached forward and brushed back a long strand of soft hair, tucking it behind her ear as her eyelids slowly closed.
“Now she’s just someone from my past that I no longer know.”
Cooper trailed his finger down from Morgan’s ear and traced the delicate outline of her jaw. Her lips were parted and she was hot to the touch, though her complexion was still much too pale.
“Where do you want me to take you?” he asked, watching the play of light caress her face.
“I don’t want to go home. Not yet.”
“Is there anywhere else you’d like to go?”
She slowly shook her head and whispered, “No.”
“I’ve got an idea,” he said before sliding back behind the wheel and securing his seat belt. She didn’t answer and turned to look out the window once again.
Cooper left the restaurant and headed back to Fisherman’s Landing. He sailed through town and then pointed his truck toward home, arriving just as the moon disappeared behind a band of clouds, throwing his place deep in shadow. He grabbed Morgan’s hand as they headed into his house. She didn’t say a word. Didn’t ask any questions or seem all that interested in where she was.
“Wine?” he asked as they entered the kitchen.
Morgan shook her head and slid onto the sofa in front of the fireplace. She was in a dark funk, and he needed a game plan. He got the fireplace going, dimmed the lights, and turned on the large flat-screen TV. Grabbing a blanket, he slid onto the sofa beside her, not too close because he knew she needed room, but close enough that he could smell the honeysuckle shampoo she’d used that night.
“Movie?” he asked.
She shrugged but after a few seconds spoke. “Sure.” Morgan pulled up the blanket and settled her head against the back of the sofa, turning slightly toward him as she got comfortable.
There wasn’t much choice, but he did stumble across an old comedy starring Hugh Grant. It was a harmless piece of fluff and would fill the time, so he clicked on the channel and put up his feet. About halfway through the movie, he realized he’d moved closer to Morgan, and by the time the credits rolled across the screen, she was fast asleep, her head resting on his shoulder. She’d not spoken one word the entire time. A glance at his watch told him it was past midnight.
“Morgan,” he whispered, but his only answer was a soft sigh as she burrowed deeper against him.
Cooper knew he could do one of two things. Wake Morgan and make the drive back to town, or gather her up and put her to bed here. He glanced down at her. She looked so damn peaceful and relaxed, he didn’t have the heart to wake her. So Cooper scooped her up, smiling to himself when she mumbled a bunch of nothing, and made his way upstairs. He put her in his bed, and she rolled over immediately, grabbing one of his pillows and burying her face in its softness.
Her long hair splayed out around her head and shoulders, a dark inky weave of silk that drew his gaze. She looked so fragile and delicate—which was an absolute contradiction to the woman he’d come to know. Morgan Campbell had strength and backbone, and she probably didn’t know it.
Carefully, he tucked her in, and after a few moments left her in silence. He was glad he’d been there for her tonight. Glad he’d managed to take some of the edge off what had been a stressful situation for Morgan. He wondered about Nathan and Christy. About Morgan’s past and what had happened to alter her future.
He thought of her eyes. Of the way her mouth puckered when she was mad, or how she twirled the end of her hair when concentrating. He thought of her scars—the ones he’d seen and the others, the ones hidden beneath her clothes and skin.