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He wasn’t going there, he decided. There was something about Miss Sarah Fox that had every male instinct inside him rioting. And he wasn’t the man this delicate woman needed. No, Miss Sarah needed a forever kind of guy, and Cooper just wasn’t the forever kind. “Good evening, Miss Sarah.”
“Mr. Cooper.” Her voice stopped him.
He turned back to her, his brow arching at the confidence, the sudden look of a woman who sees more than she ever shows the world.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“My name is Sarah. Not Miss Sar
ah. Or Miss Fox if you prefer. But after two years, uncounted plates of cookies, and bowls of soup, I think you can call me by my name.”
There was no censure in her voice, just quiet command. That quiet command almost had him chuckling. She wasn’t a pushover and she was finally letting him know it.
“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded back to her. “I’ll see you around.”
“‘Ma’am’ wasn’t one of the choices,” he heard her mutter as the scrape of the storm door told him she was going into the house.
It slammed behind her as he stepped into his truck and let a low burst of laughter pass his lips. Damn if she didn’t have spirit. Maybe Miss Sarah wasn’t the timid miss everyone had grown to believe she was since moving here. Seemed to him, she just might have a little fire in her.
Hell, he knew she had fire. Too much fire for a man to step into without giving it a hell of a lot of thought first. And for a man like Cooper, it took more than just thought on his part. More than just fire on her part.
Too damned bad. He wouldn’t have minded sharing her bed, her pool, and anything else she wanted to give up to him. For a little while.
Sarah closed the door to her house and leaned back against it to let out a long, slow breath. Oh Lord, that man was seriously hot. She dropped her keys onto the side table, dropped the bag of groceries to the floor, and waved her hands over her flushed face.
Those jeans were snug. They cupped his ass. His T-shirt highlighted a six-pack that would make any woman’s eyes bug out. And those arms, serious biceps; that face, rugged and tough. He wasn’t a pretty boy. He looked dangerous and hard and so hot that he made her perspire.
Damn.
Just the sound of his voice had her creaming her panties. And that was so not fair, because she still just hadn’t gotten the hang of masturbation. She could get to a certain point, she’d get almost there, but only sometimes did she actually manage to go over.
She had all the books. And she practiced. There had to be a trick to it. And she really wished she could find that trick, because her neighbor made her so hot she was changing panties several times a day and driving herself crazy with the arousal.
She picked up her canvas bag, slid off her sandals, and padded barefoot through the house to the large, airy kitchen in the back. There were a lot of windows spaced around the room, making it seem as though the backyard was a part of the room.
The pool had been the selling point. She loved the pool. She loved the way the sun spilled in the kitchen at dawn and how cozy and warm she felt in the house.
And it was all hers.
She put away the milk and eggs, the bag of coffee, the sugar and cream. A pack of cookies and some sweet rolls went on the counter, a carefully wrapped steak went in the fridge, with the wine and a baking potato on the counter.
Dinner.
One steak, one potato, one glass of wine, perhaps on the deck.
She stared out at the deck, bracing her arms on the counter and watching the water in the pool as she frowned and considered her neighbor Ethan Cooper. He’d introduced himself right after she moved in. Told her if she had any problems to let him know. And if any of his friends who came over sometimes bothered her or offended her, then he definitely wanted to know. And he’d been serious.
His friends weren’t that bad though. They were rough-looking, funny, and always joking with her. She thought perhaps they talked to her more than Ethan had over the years. But they never flirted with her, they never came on to her. She could be everyone’s kid sister for the way they treated her.
Not that she wanted his friends. She wanted Ethan. But, she glared at the pool, it was enough to make a woman wonder if perhaps she was completely unattractive to the opposite sex.
She pushed back from the counter, stared at the potato, and sighed again. A meal alone. On a Friday night. She’d lived here for two years and had never really noticed how little other people wanted anything to do with her, until now.
And she went out every day, she made sure she did, if only to buy her dinner. She was friendly, wasn’t she?
She was lonely. She trailed her fingers over the wide kitchen island, drifted through the house, and frowned at the odd feeling. She hadn’t been lonely in a very long time. She’d been too busy, too concerned with surviving to worry about loneliness.
Her hand lifted to her chest as she stopped in the middle of the living room and stared at the floor. She rubbed the scars, almost as though she could feel the horrendous fear and pain that she had felt when they had been made.
