Page 55 of Save the Drama for your Mama
Cooper shrugged. “Good point. Speaking of that, I need your help.”
I blinked twice. “You what?”
He furrowing his brow. “Don’t make me say it again.”
“The problem is . . . the CooperIknow never needs anybody’s help,” I said. “He works alone. Solo. Companionless. Unaccompanied. All by his lonesome—”
He cut me off. “Forget that—this is different.”
“How is it different?” I asked.
“Because I’m asking for your help now.”
I laughed. “You accuse me of not making sense sometimes, but—”
Cooper crossed his arms and looked at my hairline. “Please.”
“Whoa—careful the way you throw around that word,” I said. “People might think that you’re a nice guy, and that would ruin your reputation.” I gave him a knowing smile. “How can I help you, Mr. Galloway?”
He sighed. “I want to go through more diaries and—”
“I’m in!” I said a little too eagerly.
“You should cut back on the caffeine,” Cooper said, chuckling. “Let’s plan on getting together at five o’clock for an early dinner, then we can get to work. We can order-in pizza, if that’s okay with you.”
“That’s more than okay with me,” I said. “Get one of those Meathead pizzas from Village Pizzeria.”
“That’s my favorite,” he said.
“I know.”
“How do you . . .” Cooper waved it off. “Never mind. And to drink?”
“Iced tea, please.”
“You got it,” he said.
For some reason, iced tea reminded me of anice tree, and I glanced up at the treehouse, curious.
Cooper followed my gaze upwards. “It’s safe, if you want to check it out sometime. Alfredo built it for me when I was a kid.”
I smiled, surprised by the invitation. “I’d love to see it, but right now I should get back toChipandDale.” I wiggled my brows, then started booty popping against the tree trunk like it was a pole. After a few seconds, I came to my senses and said, “See you at five.”
“Sounds good,” he said, unfazed.
I walked back toward the guys with much more of a bounce in my step. I was excited to meet Cooper for dinner and dig into the mystery that was James.
At five o’clock on the dot, I leaned on the stool next to the kitchen island, checking the time every fifteen seconds, wondering if he was going to be late again.
Thirty seconds later, the doorbell rang, Romeo barked, then the dog and Cooper both strolled into the kitchen, the latter with a giant pizza box and two drinks in his hands.
“Let’s eat.” He set the pizza and drinks on the counter, then pulled out a couple of plates and napkins. He opened the pizza box and slid it in my direction, along with my drink. “Dig in.”
“Thank you,” I said, grabbing a slice and putting it into my mouth. I moaned my approval, savoring the combination of pepperoni, spicy Italian sausage, meatball, and Canadian bacon.
I stopped chewing when I looked up to find Cooper watching me.
He averted his eyes and took a sip of his drink.
