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Irritated, he shot Charlie a look and then glared at his brother. “You want to call her off?”

Maverick grinned and shook his head. “I’m not getting involved.”

“You’re a pussy,” Cooper shot at him.

“Maybe.” Maverick nuzzled his wife’s neck. “But I’m a happy pussy.”

Charlie ignored her husband’s mouth and cranked her neck so that Cooper was able to see the look quite clearly. “Seriously, Cooper. Sara Campbell is high maintenance. Always has been. And the split from her husband hasn’t exactly been smooth. There’s a lot of unfinished business there, and it’s really not a good idea.” She narrowed her eyes. “I know you like ’em married because you think the strings are cut. Makes it easy to ignore. But trust me, Sara Campbell has strings, even if she’s trying to hide them. If you get involved with her, it will be messy and…”

Cooper was scowling at Charlie, and Charlie was focused on him, so neither one of them saw Sara approach until she was right there by his side.

“Hi, Charlie. Maverick.”

They all turned to Sara, but her attention was solely on Cooper. That sultry smile was still in place, and she licked her lips slowly. “I was wondering if you’d come out for St. Patty’s Day.”

He couldn’t help himself. He gave her a killer smile in return. “It’s Sara, right?”

Charlie snorted, which he ignored, and Maverick pulled his wife away, which he was grateful for. Because right about now, he was thinking, to hell with the consequences. He’d take an ass kicking from his sister-in-law if it meant relieving some of that stress he was feeling.

“So you do remember me.”

“I do.” He paused, glancing over her shoulder toward the bar. Her eyes were clear, not coy or hopeful. This woman wasn’t looking for happily ever after. She was looking for a night of sin. Seemed as if his luck had changed. He was just about to ask Sara if she wanted a drink when he spied…

“Is that your sister?” he asked, angling his head for a better look.

Sara followed his gaze. “What do you know. Guess Hank finally convinced her to go out with him.”

Cooper recognized the man with Morgan. “He works for your father, doesn’t he?” Hank’s head was bent low as Morgan said something and shook her head. The guy’s interest was obvious, yet Morgan looked anything but thrilled to be here. In fact, it looked as if she was go

ing to head for the exit when she glanced up and caught Cooper’s gaze.

Her hair was loose, falling in waves around her shoulders, and once again she was covered from head to toe—but the jeans fit better than anything he’d seen her in, and the dark green turtleneck she wore showed off a surprisingly curvy figure. Huh. Who knew?

The fire hall was nearly full—it was loud and chaotic. There was music and laughter and people jostling by as they headed to the makeshift dance floor. Green beer flowed, and Irish whiskey kept the crowd animated. Yet in those few moments when he gazed across the room at Morgan, Cooper felt a certain sort of quiet he’d never felt before. It centered him, calmed that part of him that was tight and stressed.

It was a little unsettling.

Hank leaned in once again, and their connection was severed as she turned her body so that Cooper couldn’t see her face.

“Are they dating?” he found himself asking.

“I hope this is the start of something,” Sara murmured, sliding up beside him. “Hank’s a good guy, and, let’s face it, with all of Morgan’s issues, it’s going to take one hell of a special man to look after her.”

Cooper frowned and turned to Sara. “What do you mean by that?” From what little he’d seen, Morgan Campbell didn’t need anyone looking after her. She was a tough nut to crack—he’d give her that. But the woman had strength. Call it intuition or something else entirely, he sensed this about her. Yet there was more. The shadows that lived in her eyes told him she’d experienced something dark. And the one thing he’d learned so far in this life he’d been living, was that when touched by darkness, you either choose to live or you die.

Sometimes the dying can take a lifetime. Sometimes the dying is all you can cope with until something or someone gives you a reason to live again.

“Don’t get me wrong. I love my sister. How could I not? She was the golden child. The girl no one could touch.” Something in Sara’s tone changed, and Cooper watched her face closely. He was beginning to suspect the Campbell family was a hell of a lot more complicated than he’d originally imagined.

Sara stared across the room. “I’m older than her by two years, and yet as long as I can remember, I wanted to be her. And now…”

“Now?” he prompted.

Sara’s gaze fell away from his. “Now I don’t even recognize the person she’s become.” She smiled, a sad, wistful curve of her lips. “She wasn’t always like this.” Sara’s head shot up, her gaze on her sister. Cooper thought she was going to share more, but then the blonde squared her shoulders, slid her arm through his, and insisted he buy her a drink.

Cooper was, if anything, a gentleman. Sure there were varying degrees as to what constituted the term, but he wasn’t the kind of man to leave a woman wanting. Already feeling as if he’d somehow killed the St. Patty’s Day mood, he headed to the bar, Sara in tow. He took another Guinness, while Sara ordered a white wine.

The beer was cold and good, and he was going to assume the pinot grigio was as well—judging by the large gulp Sara tossed back. He was just about to suggest they head over to where his brother was, when she nodded toward the far side of the hall.

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