Page 89 of The Love Lie
Not ahead.
Not at the horizon.
Not at whatever waits beyond.
But behind.
At his house.
At her.
In a sudden rush, he finally understands why his father constantly used to look over his shoulder, why he always went to the main house first instead of the stables, even if it added an extra twenty minutes to his day, why he now seems so lost. It’s the same reason his mother sat out on the porch every night waiting for her husband to return. Cooper gets it in a way henever has before. He gets it the way his mother always said he would.
She was right.
Hewassearching for all the wrong things in all the wrong places. Looking for an escape, for a thrill, for another life, for anything and everything that would free him from the binds of his birthright for even a moment. But he sees the truth with perfect clarity now. It was never freedom that he needed.
It was an anchor.
A person.
Someone who would turn this place from a jail cell into a home.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
sam
The bed feelscold without him. It’s an unwelcome realization—both that he’s gone, and that she cares.
A taste of my own damn medicine.
She frowns and scrubs the sleep from her eyes. Bright sun streaks through the windows. She knows his days start early, but it’s Saturday, and she’s in town. She’d thought maybe…
Maybe he’d rearrange his entire life for me?
She snorts.
No tomorrow. That’s her rule, not his. This weekend is a glorified booty call to stave off Nina’s machinations for a little while longer. Nothing more. Nothing less.
So why does her heart start to flutter as if she’s a fourteen-year-old on Valentine’s Day when she sees a note on the kitchen island held in place by a single blue iris? She lifts the bloom to her nose and inhales the sweet, earthy scent.
Iris spuria, she thinks, drawing on a childhood spent surrounded by the flowers at her mother’s store.Represents faith, devotion, and trust.
There’s no way Cooper knows that. There’s no way he’d think she does either. Just as he couldn’t possibly know it’s oneof her favorite flowers—complex, underutilized, able to stand completely on its own, and not nearly as cliché as a rose. Still, she can’t help but wonder what, if anything, it means.
Sam flips open the note.
The vet is coming this morning to check the last of the herd. I couldn’t skip it, but I should be back by midday. Make yourself at home. There’s a milk frother by the coffee machine. Your fireballs are next to the fridge. And in case you were wondering, no, I don’t have a second truck. You’re stuck with me, Cuj. Unless of course you want to try your luck with the chopper…
She rolls her eyes and locates the coffeepot, surprised to see it’s already on. The milk frother rests beside it, shiny and seemingly brand new. And right next to that, there’s an unopened box of sugar. Now that her curiosity is piqued, Sam can’t help but scan the rest of the kitchen as she plucks a fresh carton of almond milk from his refrigerator. There’s the massive plastic tub of Atomic Fireballs, the two bags of dried mango beside them, the four canisters of nuts and an empty bowl sitting next to them, presumably for mixing—all things she asked for—but some other choice items catch her eye as well. The fresh vase of irises in the window. The two suspiciously clean dish towels hanging from the oven. The completely full bottle of hand soap by the sink. The dozen lemons sitting in a bowl. When she glances at the living room and notices the two mismatched pillows plus a cozy throw with the tag still on, a warm sensation spreads across her chest. She lifts her fingers to her lips as if covering them could erase her silly grin as she pictures Cooper stalking down the aisles of a Walmart, feverishly throwing half the store into his cart just to make sure she’s comfortable in his home.
It’s sweet—so sweet it’s almost painful as this feeling she refuses to acknowledge thrums beneath her skin, all heat and goodness and joy, as if her blood has turned to warm honey.
That’s enough of that.
Sam swipes the croissant from the kitchen island and marches toward the patio with her computer and coffee in tow. At the last second, she grabs the blanket. When she wraps it around her shoulders, she’s unable to wipe the smile from her lips, imagining it’s his arms instead.
Work.
