A couple of days later, Cooper stood on his porch, weighing the pros and cons of what he was about to do. For the past two nights, he’d stopped himself from going over to Shelby’s porch, even though he could practically see her tears from his own cabin as she sat bundled in that same blanket, curled up on her porch swing.
Showing up with spaghetti once was an excusable act of neighborliness. Doing it on a daily basis would only raise all of her suspicious flags, so he’d sat tight, waiting for just the right moment to approach her again. When the sun had risen on yet another gorgeous day, and when it seemed like she was going to spend that day inside once again, he decided he’d had enough of waiting.
Plus, he was going frigging stir-crazy.
He’d verified that all guests were out on the trails right now, and he’d asked Cole to leave Pegasus and Bandit behind. Cooper had no idea whether Shelby had ever ridden a horse, had ever wanted to ride a horse, or had any desire to leave her cabin today, but he’d be damned if he’d let another day go by without trying to coerce her into coming outside and riding.
He walked across the grass, bounded up her steps, and knocked on her door. A few moments later, the curtain fluttered, and he tipped his hand to his hat like an old-West cowboy as she peeked out.
“Good morning,” he said as she opened the door a foot.
“Hi.”
Her eyes were red-rimmed, and underneath, her skin was smudged purple and gray. Her cheeks were pale, and he could see her collarbone jutting through the soft T-shirt she had on. Damn. It was going to take more than Jenny’s donuts to get this woman back to fighting weight.
“You okay?” he asked, as if he couldn’t see the obvious answer to that in her face.
“Sure. Yeah. Thank you.”
Over her shoulder, he could see a mug and plate on the table. The plate held edges of bread, like a little kid had just eaten jam toast there but couldn’t stomach the crusts.
“I see you mastered the toaster?”
“Very funny. Yes, I managed.”
He smiled. “I was hopeful, given that it’s been days since we’ve had to call 911 for you.”
“Cooper?” Her eyebrows went upward. “Is there something I can do for you?”
“Yes. You can come out for a ride.”
“Huh?” She shook her head quickly, like she really didn’t understand.
“A ride. On a horse.” He pointed down the hill, toward the stables. “All of the guests are out on the trails for the day. Cole left us two perfect horses. I wondered if maybe you’d like to get out of this cabin and go for a ride.”
“I—don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
“Because.” She fumbled with the curtain. “I just…I’m okay here, inside.”
“No offense, Shelby, but if you’re going to come all the way to Montana—which is, I guess, pretty far from where you live—you cannot stay inside for a month. Not with these skies. Not with those mountains.” He pointed toward the Rockies, which rose like jagged sapphires against the western skyline. “It’d be criminal.”
She smiled sadly. “Really.”
“Absolutely.”
“I just—I’m sorry. It’s hard to explain. I’m kind of trying to keep to myself here. Not sure heading out on horseback is a good idea.”
Cooper shook his head. “I beg to differ. Heading out on horseback is always a good idea.”
“Maybe another time.”
She moved to close the door, but Cooper put one finger on it. “I’ll have your horse saddled and ready in fifteen minutes. Nobody but me will see you, if that’s a concern.”
He knew damn well it was a concern, but he wasn’t supposed to know that, so he had to play it like he was just the regular-Joe spurned fiancé who wanted to take her out riding.
She tipped her head, but she didn’t close the door. Good. “Why do you want so badly for me to come?”
“Because you’re here, and I’m here, and the sky is blue, and the horses need exercise.” He shrugged like that was all there was to it, rather than admitting she looked like a ghost who he was afraid might just float away on the next stiff breeze if he didn’t do something to stop her.
“Maybe…maybe another time.”
She closed the door softly, and he stood there for a long moment, cursing coercion skills that had apparently gone to crap. Then he sighed and turned around, headed back for another day of doing hell knew what.
But he’d get through to her. He’d done it once, under the guise of having too much spaghetti. He could do it again.
He just needed to figure out how.
Later that evening, the clanking of grill tools in the evening air startled Shelby as she sat on the tiny back porch of her cabin, staring out at the flowers up on the hillside. She’d sat down an hour ago, intending to try the yoga breathing some trainer had taught her back in some Midwestern city somewhere along. But three breaths in, she’d sighed and given up, no more convinced than ever that counting breaths could calm a body that didn’t even remember what calm felt like.
Hearing the clanking of metal had her jerking her head toward Cooper’s cabin, where he’d lit his grill and seemed determined not to look her way as he waited for it to heat up.
As she watched, he slid four enormous burgers onto the grill, and her mouth watered at the sound of the sizzle. She swallowed, thinking about the fridge just inside her cabin—the one filled with food she usually forced herself to eat because someone had decided it was the correct balance of carbohydrates, fiber, and vitamins.
That someone was just never…her.
Cooper closed the grill, uncapping a frosty beer and lifting it to his lips as he sat down in a beat-up old chair on his own back porch. Shelby smiled at the sight of its tattered arms, wondering how in the world a piece of furniture that ugly had ended up at the honeymoon cabin.
“I know you’re lusting after my chair, but you can’t have it.” He didn’t look at her—just tipped his beer toward her before taking another drink.
She smiled. “Wasn’t lusting.”
“Yeah, you were. You’re sitting there on pressure-treated steps, and you’ve been there long enough that your butt’s probably asleep, and you want this chair.”
“I don’t.”
He winked. “Would if you tried it. It’s a damn good chair.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“I’d let you sit in it, but I barely know you.”
She laughed. “Good strategy. You know what they say about strangers and old chairs.”
“What do they say?” He looked over finally, eyebrows raised. He paused, then sipped his beer. “Never mind. They don’t say anything. There isn’t a thing about old chairs. Except that they’re awesome.”
“Let me guess. You found that thing out on some trail ride, and you dragged it back here? And that’s why it looks so fabulous?”
Cooper lifted his arms and looked down at the chair. “I resent your implication. And your adjective.”
“Are you always this attached to furniture you just met?”
“Nah. Takes me a good long time to get a chair worked in just right. And this one’s me-shaped perfection.”
Shelby felt her eyebrows come together. “But I thought you just got here, like, a week ago.”
“Yeah. Well.” The grill suddenly needed his attention. “Some chairs mold faster than others.”
He flipped the burgers over, and Shelby’s stomach let out an embarrassingly loud growl she hoped he couldn’t hear.
“You eat dinner yet?”
“Not yet.” She shrugged. “Not really hungry.”
He looked over, eyebrows up again. “So that grumble I just heard from clear over here? That was maybe a bear in the woods? Not your stomach?”
She rolled her eyes. “Must be.”
“You want a burger?”
God, yes, she wanted a burger. With a big, carb-loaded bun, gobs of ketchup, and some potato chips on the side.
“Thanks. I’m all set. There’s plenty of food in my cabin.”
“Suit yourself.” He shrugged. “But whatever I don’t eat is going to Moose. He’ll be along in about twenty minutes to see what I saved.”
“Who’s Moose?” she asked, trying not to look around too obviously for a giant, antlered creature.
“He’s a dog. I think. Hard to tell, under all the fur. He’s a Whisper Creek fixture, and he can smell a burger about six miles out.”
“And he’s why you make four giant hamburgers?”
Cooper looked her straight in the eye. “Yeah. Has nothing to do with the fact that I figured you’ve had—what—a piece of toast and an apple today? And I thought you might be starving? So I put an extra burger on for you, hoping maybe you’d come over and eat it?”
Shelby swallowed. “Oh. That was…really nice of you.”
“I have ketchup, if that makes your decision easier. Pickles, too.”
She smiled as the sizzle did her in. It wasn’t his smile.
Wasn’t.
“Do you have any cheese?”
He smiled, deftly slapping square slices of cheese onto the burgers. “Come on over and have a burger, Shelby. I’ll even let you drink one of my beers, but don’t even think about sitting in my chair.”