Page 32 of One-of-a-Kind Bride

“No thanks, Dad. Just stay with Cassie.”

“But your game…” she protested.

“Will go on. I’ve got an assistant coach. Now, just relax, close your eyes and I’ll take care of it.”

She did relax, as much as she could nestled against his chest, held in his capable strong arms. He carried her to his truck and gently guided her into the front passenger seat. The seat cushioned her bottom and she laid her head against the headrest. “This is embarrassing.”

Coop came across her body, the scent of his lime soap jostling her senses as he pulled her seat belt out and strapped her in. “More embarrassing than diving into your aunt Suzie’s pool and losing your bathing suit top?”

“Gosh, you remember that?”

“What thirteen-year-old boy wouldn’t?”

He gave her a look, inches from her face, his eyes sharp and gleaming with the slightest twinkle.

She sighed and his focus went to her mouth. They were close, unbearably so, but Coop lingered there, in the moment staring at her lips. Her breath caught and suddenly she forgot all about the ache in her head. She sighed deeply, her heart racing.

“But you fished it out of the pool and closed your eyes when you handed it to me,” she said softly.

“I wasn’t too smart back then,” he teased.

“You rescued me then, and now you’re doing it again.”

“Force of habit, I guess.”

She laid her hand on his cheek, looked into his eyes. “Thanks.”

He swallowed and backed away as if she were on fire. “No problem.” Then he closed her door and climbed into the driver’s seat.

And they didn’t speak the rest of the way to the hospital.

*

Coop sat downon his bed, leaned his forearms over his knees, and ran his hands through his hair. He didn’t want to feel the things he was feeling. He didn’t want to allow any emotions to escape from where he kept them locked and hidden away. He was done feeling, done with that part of his life. And his life was good now, having crawled out from under a landslide of grief. He’d survived Francine’s death. Though barely. And he still missed her. But he’d had to go on. He had a daughter that he loved to high heaven and she’d needed her father to fill in the voids in her life.

But seeing that ball come down on Taylor today worried the hell out of him and he’d let all rational sense fly out the window. He couldn’t get to her fast enough. He couldn’t allow anyone else to see to her injury. His heart had pounded like a jackhammer, and he’d raced to her, high-jumping over the fence to be by her side.

He couldn’t bear to lose another… He closed his eyes. Oh man.Don’t think it, don’t say it.

He couldn’t bear to loseher.Not Taylor. His feelings for her had never died. Not really and he’d just realized it as he carried her in his arms to his truck. As he breathed in the sweet scent of her, held her near and prayed she’d be okay. He cared for her. Even though she’d chosen her career over him. Even though she’d tossed away everything he’d wanted. She’d be going back to New York soon, and with her talent, she’d land on her feet. And he’d go on being Cassie’s widower dad.

According to the emergency room doctor, she’d been lucky the ball had only grazed her head. She’d have a bruise for a few days but should be fine. What a relief.

When Julie had shown up at the hospital, Coop hadn’t argued about taking Taylor home. Though it was hard letting her go, it wasn’t his place. They were just barely friends again and he had to remember that.

Coop sighed and glanced at his nightstand, flirting with temptation. It was only a few seconds before he gave in and pulled out his bedside drawer. Inside, he lifted out the promise box and held it in his hand, checking it out again. He ran a finger along the etched initials, RC and TP. He’d been so young then, and the quality of his workmanship made him smile. Not bad for a young kid. He’d worked darn hard on making this for Taylor. And after they’d declared it their promise box, his dad had taught him how to attach hinges and a flip latch onto it. The box had weathered years of isolation under that gazebo, long forgotten. Now he stared at it, wondering what Taylor’s last promise was to him.

He scoffed. “Probably something lame.” But he held on to the box, not ready to open it.

Not ready to have that part of his life over.

“Daddy?” Cassie came into the room dressed in her cozy pajamas. He set the box back into his nightstand and closed the drawer.

“What is it, Cass?”

Cassie put her head down, studying the floor. “How’s Taylor?”

“She’s going to be just fine. The hit wasn’t as hard as it looked. She’ll have a bruise for a few days, but that’s all.”

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