once more. There was murmuring, then
laughter.
She set her hairbrush down and went to the kitchen. Through
the window on her back door she could see Cooper helping RJ lift huge chunks of
what was left of that branch into a wheelbarrow. He was wearing a breast-cancer
awareness t-shirt and running shoes with the jeans he’d had on the night
before, and there was a ratty White Sox cap turned backward on his head.
She’d woken up an hour earlier thinking he’d left without
saying goodbye, but he hadn’t. He was right there in her yard, cheerfully doing
manual labor after keeping her up most of the night, and apparently getting
along swimmingly with the oldest of her three brothers.
She wasn’t fully aware that she’d opened the door and
wandered outside until RJ looked over at her and said, “I told you I was coming
over at two, so you can’t be mad at me if I woke you up.”
She’d been working nights for so long that she stuck to her
up-all-night, sleep-until-the-middle-of-the-afternoon schedule, even on her
days off, and he knew it.
Cooper had turned as RJ was speaking. The front of his shirt
had “Save the Ta-Tas” written in hot pink letters across his chest. There was
sawdust in the dark hair on his forearms and stuck to his jeans over his
thighs. When she looked up she found his eyes were more green than brown in the
daylight.
“I take it introductions aren’t necessary,” she observed
mildly.
Cooper peeled back the cuff of the work glove he was wearing
and looked at his watch pointedly. As though they’d formed some kind of
smartass tag team, RJ said, “We’ve been out here more than an hour while you
were doing heaven only knows what inside.” He dropped a log on top of the pile.
“Cooper here was at the same World Series game when the Sox won in 2005,” he
told her with an impressed grin.
“I’ll bet your seats were much better,” she said, speaking
so that only Cooper could hear. “I bet your family has box seats.”
“Aw, come on now.” He took off his hat and wiped his sweaty
forehead with the inside of his forearm. “My family isn’t that bad. We get
stadium seats and sit among the peasants once in awhile.”
“Turns out his seats were only a few rows over from ours,”
RJ said, oblivious to their conversation.
Cooper made a face as if to say “See?” and she smiled.
“Careful or he’s going to want to play catch next.” She
meant it as a warning, but he smiled as though he liked the idea. “I’m going to
run a couple of errands, then I’ll bring back Chinese,” she said loud enough
for RJ to hear. “What do you want?”
“I could go for some General Tso’s,” he called back,
navigating the wheelbarrow toward the gate leading from the side of her house
to her driveway. “Extra spicy.”
“And you?” she asked Cooper.
“I like General Tso’s,” he said. “Extra spicy.”
“Great. My brother and…”
Good lord, what was he to her now?
“The guy who made you forget your name a couple of times
last night?” he suggested helpfully. “And once more this morning?”
She let him have that one because it was true.
“Are long lost soul mates,” she finished with a shake of her
head.
“Well, if it makes you feel better, he wasn’t exactly
pleased to see me come out of your room in nothing but my jeans when he let
himself in earlier.”
Bree sighed. “Looks like I’m going to have to have the
boundaries talk with RJ again.” She wrinkled her nose. “Sorry.”
He shrugged. “I’ve got a trick or two up my sleeve for
diffusing tense situations.”
She’d seen him turn Mama Bears—frightened mothers who
occasionally went into a full-on rage when the doctors failed to come up with
an immediate cure for their sick or injured child—into at least calm, if not
rational, versions of themselves.
“It’s a proven fact that if you offer to help a guy do free
labor for his sister he’s ten times more likely to let you hang around on his
good
laughter.
She set her hairbrush down and went to the kitchen. Through
the window on her back door she could see Cooper helping RJ lift huge chunks of
what was left of that branch into a wheelbarrow. He was wearing a breast-cancer
awareness t-shirt and running shoes with the jeans he’d had on the night
before, and there was a ratty White Sox cap turned backward on his head.
She’d woken up an hour earlier thinking he’d left without
saying goodbye, but he hadn’t. He was right there in her yard, cheerfully doing
manual labor after keeping her up most of the night, and apparently getting
along swimmingly with the oldest of her three brothers.
She wasn’t fully aware that she’d opened the door and
wandered outside until RJ looked over at her and said, “I told you I was coming
over at two, so you can’t be mad at me if I woke you up.”
She’d been working nights for so long that she stuck to her
up-all-night, sleep-until-the-middle-of-the-afternoon schedule, even on her
days off, and he knew it.
Cooper had turned as RJ was speaking. The front of his shirt
had “Save the Ta-Tas” written in hot pink letters across his chest. There was
sawdust in the dark hair on his forearms and stuck to his jeans over his
thighs. When she looked up she found his eyes were more green than brown in the
daylight.
“I take it introductions aren’t necessary,” she observed
mildly.
Cooper peeled back the cuff of the work glove he was wearing
and looked at his watch pointedly. As though they’d formed some kind of
smartass tag team, RJ said, “We’ve been out here more than an hour while you
were doing heaven only knows what inside.” He dropped a log on top of the pile.
“Cooper here was at the same World Series game when the Sox won in 2005,” he
told her with an impressed grin.
“I’ll bet your seats were much better,” she said, speaking
so that only Cooper could hear. “I bet your family has box seats.”
“Aw, come on now.” He took off his hat and wiped his sweaty
forehead with the inside of his forearm. “My family isn’t that bad. We get
stadium seats and sit among the peasants once in awhile.”
“Turns out his seats were only a few rows over from ours,”
RJ said, oblivious to their conversation.
Cooper made a face as if to say “See?” and she smiled.
“Careful or he’s going to want to play catch next.” She
meant it as a warning, but he smiled as though he liked the idea. “I’m going to
run a couple of errands, then I’ll bring back Chinese,” she said loud enough
for RJ to hear. “What do you want?”
“I could go for some General Tso’s,” he called back,
navigating the wheelbarrow toward the gate leading from the side of her house
to her driveway. “Extra spicy.”
“And you?” she asked Cooper.
“I like General Tso’s,” he said. “Extra spicy.”
“Great. My brother and…”
Good lord, what was he to her now?
“The guy who made you forget your name a couple of times
last night?” he suggested helpfully. “And once more this morning?”
She let him have that one because it was true.
“Are long lost soul mates,” she finished with a shake of her
head.
“Well, if it makes you feel better, he wasn’t exactly
pleased to see me come out of your room in nothing but my jeans when he let
himself in earlier.”
Bree sighed. “Looks like I’m going to have to have the
boundaries talk with RJ again.” She wrinkled her nose. “Sorry.”
He shrugged. “I’ve got a trick or two up my sleeve for
diffusing tense situations.”
She’d seen him turn Mama Bears—frightened mothers who
occasionally went into a full-on rage when the doctors failed to come up with
an immediate cure for their sick or injured child—into at least calm, if not
rational, versions of themselves.
“It’s a proven fact that if you offer to help a guy do free
labor for his sister he’s ten times more likely to let you hang around on his
good
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