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“It was that intense, huh?”
Jo Ellen rolled her eyes. “It was crazy. Whenever they were around each other, all the air in the room just kind of sucked in around them until it was literally hard to breath. Their chemistry is just so…so…”
When she couldn’t come up with an appropriate word, Cooper leaned toward her. “So what?” he asked in a low voice that made all the air in the hay loft suck in around them, constricting her lungs until she found it hard to breath.
She looked at him, breathing rapidly, wondering, hoping…was this what it had felt like for Emma Leigh?
Too leery to encourage the sensation as her twin obviously had with Branson, Jo Ellen broke eye contact and forced her gaze out into the starry night.
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “It was just really big and all consuming.” Feeling like the biggest coward ever, she drew her knees up to rest her chin on the tops of them and curled her arms around her legs. “And it’s exactly why every time I’m around Emma Leigh lately, I begin to feel so restless, so alone. I look at her and Branson together, see how happy they are and crave something like that for myself. And I feel like an awful person for it.”
Cooper made a sound of disagreement in his throat. “You have no reason to feel bad about wanting to be happy.”
“But I do,” she argued. “I should be glad for my sister. Never in all the years we were growing up did I think she’d find this kind of life and actually enjoy it. I should rejoice in her happiness. I should—”
“Hey,” he whispered. “Jealousy is an uncontrollable emotion. It attacks all of us. As long as you don’t let it get the best of you, I’m sure you and your envy can live in harmony without anyone getting hurt. So, see? There’s no need to feel bad about it. It makes you normal. Human.”
She settled her cheek on her kneecap to study him from a sidelong glance. “You’re quite the philosopher, Cooper Gerhardt.” She liked that about him; it made her ache on a whole different level.
If her sister were here, she’d say, seize the moment and grab yourself a handful of hunky farm boy. But Jo Ellen couldn’t be like that. She just couldn’t. Disappointed with herself, she blew out a breath and announced, “Let’s change the subject.”
Cooper’s lips tipped with amusement. “Okay. Fine. Tell me about Dallas. What’s your job like?”
She smiled. This she could talk about without any sore feelings. After boring him with the everyday monotony of what she did, she decided to detail the more exciting moments…which suddenly didn’t seem so exciting to her ears when she spoke them aloud.
“The biggest catastrophe I avoided happened at a retirement party. They wanted the Gone Fishin’ theme, so the punch bowl was actually a twenty-gallon fish tank with this huge ice-sculpture trout floating in the blue-colored punch.”
Cooper sputtered out a laugh. “You’re kidding me?”
She shook her head. “No, sir. And yes, it was as tacky as it sounds, but they loved it. The caterer was so proud of his punch recipe, he bragged about it to the retiree just before the party began. So of course, every member of the family wanted to taste a sample. But when his five-year-old grandson leaned over the tank, he threw up because he’d been stealing too many cream-cheese mints—which had all been made in the shape of little fish, mind you.”
“Ah, shit,” Cooper breathed. Then he slapped his hand over his mouth. “Excuse the language,” he added before lowering his hand and demanding, “So what’d you do?”
“Well…” She breathed out a large breath and grinned. “Thankfully, the punch bowl sat on a rolling table, so we rolled it out of the room where a couple of my workers drained and cleaned it. But unfortunately, since it held twenty gallons of liquid, the caterer didn’t have another batch to pour in. So, I dashed to the grocery store down the street, bought them out of all their blue Hawaiian punch and lemon lime pop and high tailed it back to the party. After sending everyone out of the room so they didn’t know what a cheap concoction I used, I dumped the mixture into the tank and threw away my evidence of empty plastic bottles into the dumpsters outside.”
Tickled to find Cooper watching her avidly as he listened to her story, she almost sighed with delight, glad he wasn’t bored out of his gourd.
“Did you get the punch to the party in time?” he asked.
She straightened her back with pride. “Of course. And everyone complimented its taste. The caterer even asked me for the recipe at the end of the night, thinking it was some big, fancy blend like his.”
Cooper chuckled. “And you gave it to him, I suspect.”
Lips tightening with the ecstatic smile that wanted to burst across her face, Jo Ellen winked. “No, I did not.”
This time, his husky chuckle turned into a full laugh. “Good for you.” He shifted her way to bump his shoulder lightly against hers in congratulations. As he did, something plopped onto the surface of the sleeping bag between them.
Jo Ellen glanced down and caught a shadow of its shape—possibly a piece of folded paper—and reached for it. She began to pick it up before she even realized what it was. “Oh, here. You dropped…” She gulped when she focused on not just one but two condoms in her hand. “…this.”
Two?
Cooper cleared his throat and blushed, quickly snagging them from her. “Sorry, they must’ve fallen out. Sorry,” he repeated, sounding utterly humiliated.
Jo Ellen could only stare. Two? He’d come out here with two condoms.
Heat boiled in her belly. When she saw a third foil package peeking out the top of his pocket, her eyes flared. “Oh my God! How many did you bring?”
He shoved all three out of sight. Shifting uncomfortably away from her, he mumbled, “I don’t know. I just grabbed and started stuffing my pockets.”
