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Shit. He knew the logistics of small-town talk, but hell, already people were talking?
“Mom only called once.” He paused, suddenly alarmed, his thoughts on her cancer. “She okay?”
“Mom’s fine.”
“You sure?”
“Positive.”
“Then what the hell is the emergency?”
“We should talk.” Maverick sounded way too serious for a Sunday night.
“I don’t like the sound of that.”
“Where you at?”
“Devil’s Gate. Parking lot.”
“Okay. Give me ten minutes. I just want to see Charlie before I take off.”
Frowning, Cooper got out of his truck. Unease sat in the pit of his gut, and though he tried to shake it off, he couldn’t. He checked his phone—noticing his mother had actually called twice. He debated whether to return the call, but then pocketed the damn thing before heading inside. If his brother said their mother was fine, she was. He’d call her from home.
Less than five minutes later, he was settled at the end of the bar, ordering up a couple of Bud Lights from the largest bartender he’d ever seen. The guy had shoulders any linebacker would be envious of, a beard that would make most bikers jealous, and a mane of hair his cousin Grace would kill for.
“Thanks,” Cooper said, taking the beers from him.
The brute’s eyebrow lifted. “You Maverick’s brother?”
“I am.” Of course, the guy knew he was. This was Fisherman’s Landing after all.
“I like him.”
Cooper nodded. “He’s a good guy.”
The bartender gave him a long look as if sizing him up, but said no more. He moved to the other end as a few more customers sidled up for drinks, and Cooper took a long pull from his beer and waited for his brother. Wasn’t a long wait—you could walk from one end of the damn town to the other in under thirty minutes.
Maverick slid onto the stool beside him and grabbed the second beer. He tipped it back, took a long drink, and then set it down in front of him. He toyed with the label for a few moments and then leaned back, tapping his long fingers against the bar top.
It was a signature move, and Cooper waited for it. He didn’t have to wait long.
“So, Morgan Campbell.”
Cooper took another sip of Bud, hiding the small smile that had sprung up at the mention of her name. “Yeah. Morgan Campbell.”
“Didn’t see that one coming.” A few seconds passed. “You spend the entire weekend with her?”
“I did.”
“The whole town’s talking about it.”
“Can’t say I’m surprised.”
“Hell, I stopped in at the bakery yesterday to get some of those cinnamon rolls Charlie eats every day, and it was all Mr. Pico could talk about.”
Maverick continued to tap his fingers, and Cooper frowned. His brother was awfully quiet. “You got something to say about it?”
Maverick shrugged. “Not really. Your business is your own, but…” He scooped up his drink, then put it back without taking a sip.
