Page 3 of Say I'm Yours
She shakes her head. “You don’t give yourself enough credit.” Her eyes move around the room and then stop. “There’s someone here who sees you. I meanreallysees you.”
I turn in my seat just enough to find who she’s looking at, and I swear my stomach gives a tiny flutter. Cooper Townsend. “I can’t.” I turn back to her, shaking my head in negation. “We’ve been over this. First, he’s Presley’s brother!” I whisper-yell. “Second, even if I’m done with Trent, I still love him.”
Her eyes fill with empathy. “I know you do. Cooper knows you do, too. It’s why he hasn’t pushed harder. The man isn’t blind, but maybe there’s a chance?”
“I don’t want to hurt him.”
Angie’s shoulders rise and then fall. “I think Cooper is more than willing to take that chance. I think he’d have a lot of fun pissing off my brother-in-law as well. There’s no love lost between those two.”
That was an understatement if I’d ever heard one. Cooper and Trent may have been friends their whole lives, but they don’t see eye to eye on almost anything. Over the last month, it’s been even worse. I think Trent knows that Cooper’s feelings for me surpass friendship. The thought makes me sigh. My life is a Southern version of a soap opera.
“Angie, you’re out of your ever-lovin’ mind.”
“The best way to get over a guy is to get under another. That’s my motto.”
My jaw falls slack. “You can’t be serious.”
“Hell yeah I am. You’re not a nun. You’re not with anyone or doing anything wrong. You have every right to sleep with whomever you want. If that happens so that you can teach my new brother-in-law a lesson, good. The Hennington ego is large my friend. It’s time to pop it.”
I twist my head over my shoulder, and Cooper smiles at me. The best I can offer back is a tentative wave before I turn back to Angie. “And hurt Cooper in the process?”
She scoffs. “If you’re honest with him, he won’t be hurt.”
“I think you Yankees forget how things work down here.”
“So you say. I’m going to check on Presley. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Remember, there’s a really great guy who is interested in you . . .”
Angie stands, and I fight the urge to scream. Date Cooper? How would that even work? He’s not my type. He’s nice, caring, attentive . . . normal.
I’m into the broken and unwilling to commit type.
I watch the people move around the dance floor, thinking about how different this all could’ve been. Trent and I could be married, have children, and be happy, but that’s not the case. He pulls away, I pull harder, and eventually, I let go. I look at Angie and Presley smiling and happy, which makes my chest ache.
Swiping the bottle of wine from the center of the table, I refill my glass and then draw a long sip of wine. “Move on.” I huff. “Move on to what? It’s not like there’s a line of guys waiting to date a former Miss Bedford County.” I shake my head and continue my tirade. “Cooper?Pfft. Cooper isn’t interested in—”
“Not interested in what?”
Shit, shit, shit. I have the worst luck ever. Only I would get caught mid-sentence talking aloud like a crazy person. “Cooper, hi.” My cheeks blaze as he grins at me. “Nothing. I was just talking to myself. You know, observing and all that.”
Because I’m an idiot.
His finger brushes against my cheek, causing it to burn hotter. “So, what were you observing about me?”
“You?” I squeak and then clear my throat. “I haven’t the slightest idea what you mean. I wasn’t even lookin’ at you.”
He smirks. “I heard you say my name, Grace Rooney.”
I could crawl under this table and never get out again. Me and my big mouth. “It was nothing. I was commenting on something Angie mentioned before. About you wanting . . . to buy a . . . a . . . horse,” I lie. “Yup. A horse.”
He chuckles. “Sure you were.” Cooper grabs a chair and twists it around so he sits with it backward. “I know Angie, and she is not known for talkin’ horses. Plus, she doesn’t have anything to do with the horse business. So, what exactly am I not interested in?” He pushes.
My pulse quickens as I try to think of something. “It’s nothing.”
“Grace.” His voice is warm and inquisitive.
“Ask the girl to dance, son.” Mrs. Townsend appears out of thin air. “She’s been sittin’ herealonealmost all night.”
Great. Now my best friend’s mother is setting me up. She can probably smell the desperation seeping from my pores. Thirty-six, former beauty queen, never married, and unable to seal the deal. I’m every Southern mother’s dream.
