Page 40 of Rebels and Roses

The brothers had many things in common, but Zack had come into town looking for a home and permanence. For all Jane knew, Cooper would simply grab his backpack and go off on more travels at a moment’s notice. She’d just wake up one day, and he’d be gone. It wasn’t his fault; it was just who he was. A man who didn’t like staying in one place too long. She was shocked he’d been in Winslow Heights this long.

“I have the distinct feeling that Cooper isn’t the man he was. Look at how he acted last night. He didn’t want to be there. He’s moved on. Fiona hasn’t.”

There were too many questions and very few answers.

Did Cooper want more than a casual roll in the hay with Jane? And if he did, was she willing to take that sort of chance with him?

And more importantly, what was Fiona doing in Winslow Heights? Jane didn’t buy that the woman had come after her phone. Her handbag alone was worth about several dozen phones. She wouldn’t hop an airplane chasing after it. It didn’t make sense.

Just why was Fiona here? Did she want Cooper back?

And what was Jane willing to do if that was the case?

10

There was a banging sound in Cooper’s head that wouldn’t go away. Persistent as fuck. By the time he was awake enough to register where it was coming from, there was yelling to go along with it.

Someone was pounding on his door. Fiona was that someone. She was currently yelling his name and probably waking up people two blocks away. She’d always had a set of lungs on her.

Throwing off the covers, he tugged on a pair of blue jeans and pulled a t-shirt over his head as she stomped to the door, yelling back that he was coming and to quiet down. Not his proudest moment, but he wasn’t a happy camper.

When he’d dropped Fiona off at the Winslow Heights Inn last night, he’d told her that she needed to get on a plane today and go back home. Tom, too. They didn’t have any reason to be here, and it was time to go.

She’d been crawling all over him, but he’d let her know in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t looking for any sort of reconciliation or even a one-night stand. He’d also told her thather drunken antics might be funny and cute at twenty-two, but now at thirty-two it simply looked pathetic.

She’d come at him then, enraged that he’d called her out. She’d tried to scratch his eyes out like a cat, but he’d managed to push her away without much damage. The night clerk at the desk had eyed him up and down, resting on the deep scratch on his cheek that had been dripping blood. Cooper had ignored the questions in the man’s eyes, simply pulling out his credit card and paid for one night at the inn for Fiona.

One fucking night.

“Shut the fuck up,” Cooper barked when he opened the door. “It’s not even eight in the morning, and people are asleep. What in the hell are you doing here?”

Fiona brushed past him, tossing her handbag down on the couch.

“Tom is gone. He’s not answering his phone. Or my phone. Either of them.”

“He’s probably sleeping it off. He was just as drunk as you,” Cooper replied, walking over to the closed bedroom door of the guest room.

“Did you hear him come home?”

“No, and this is not his home. His home is in Denver. And yours is in Miami. Just in case you forgot.”

“Damn, you haven’t changed a bit. You always were grouchy in the morning.”

He hadn’t been. He was a morning person, and Fiona knew that. She’d been the one who liked sleeping until noon.

He opened the guestroom door to find that the bed was a mess, but Tom wasn’t there. His suitcase was still sitting in the corner, half unpacked.

“Is he here?” Fiona demanded, trying to push her way into the room. “Where is he?”

“If I had to guess, he spent the night with that girl he was with at dinner.”

“But he’s not answering my calls or texts.”

“Maybe he’s busy. Maybe he’s asleep. It’s early still.”

“He should have come back here.”

Cooper was exhausted. He hadn’t slept well last night, and this was the cherry on the goddamn shit sundae. Fiona was itching for a fight. He could see it in her eyes, but she was going to have to argue with herself. He was too fucking tired.

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