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Ignoring him, she busied herself by finding her tank top and pulling it on. She tugged his shirt up from between two couch cushions and flung it in his face. Then she grinned and popped from her seat. “Gorge on ice cream, of course.”
He gaped after her as she darted from the room, where she tinkered around in her kitchen. When she returned, she toted two small tubs.
B.J. handed him his own pint, then waited until he took hold of it before she flipped the top off for him. After tossing the lid onto a side table, she shoved a spoon in his face. He accepted it, then watched her, fascinated as she settled herself onto the couch beside him, crossed her legs to get comfortable, then popped open her own ice cream. She scooped up a heaping spoonful and closed her eyes, moaning as she ate.
Appearing as if she’d landed in her natural habitat, she grinned at him. He had to wonder, “So, do you do this ice cream ritual often?”
She shrugged. “Maybe.”
He rolled his eyes and let his head drop back against the back of the couch so he could stare at her ceiling. “Yeah, whatever. What the hell do you have to mope about?”
“None of your damn business.” She sounded so moody he lifted his face to glance at her.
“What?” he teased. “Are you pining after someone yourself? Some man you can’t have?” He snorted over the very idea because, seriously, B.J. Gilmore was by no means the pining type.
She huffed as if insulted, but instead of denying it, she scowled and grumbled, “Shut up,” only to dig deeper into her ice cream with a savage stab.
“Holy shit.” His mouth fell open. “You are.”
His curiosity piqued, he wanted to demand who she was so crazy about and why she couldn’t have him. But she appeared as if she might start crying any moment as she glanced around her living room, looking at everything but him. She dug back into her already half-empty pint and sniffed.
His sympathies rose. Holy shit, he was staring at a kindred soul. What a pathetic pair they made, two depressed loners, camped on a couch, eating ice cream and dreaming about people they couldn’t have. Exhaling heavily, he glanced down at the tub in his hand. The ice cream was starting to melt, so he levered out a spoonful and took a bite.
After swallowing, he asked, “How do you deal with it, day in and day out?”
She shrugged. “I bought an airplane. Now it’s gonna take me the rest of my natural life, working my ass off to pay for it.” Another shrug followed. “I don’t know. That doesn’t really stop me from thinking about him. But it keeps me busy enough I don’t have time to feel so lonely.”
Cooper nodded. “Maybe I should purchase some more farm ground, or get a couple more head of cattle.”
B.J. made an indecisive sound as if letting him know that was one way to go, but she didn’t elaborate on whether she considered it a good choice for him.
She looked deep in thought before her eyes grew big. “Emma Leigh Rawlings,” she cried.
Jolted by the sudden interruption, he blinked at her. “Huh?”
“You said you hadn’t seen your lady love in ten years, and Em’s married now—which obviously means she’s forbidden—plus I know y’all just had your ten-year class reunion cause I heard about what Emma Leigh’s sister did there. And you were always tight with the rowdy twin, so I figured that’s who we’re talking about.”
She was close; he had to give her that. But he muttered, “No.” Then he frowned. “Wait. What did Emma Leigh’s sister do?”
“You mean, you didn’t see the whole drama play out? Way I heard it, everyone at the reunion got a front row seat.”
He shook his head slightly, totally bewildered how Jo Ellen of all people could’ve made any kind of spectacle. Maybe she’d tripped on something and fallen. Had she gotten hurt? Oh, God. What if she wasn’t okay?
“I didn’t go to the reunion.” He lied. “I had already started my harvest and didn’t finish until today. What happened?”
B.J. let out a low impressed whistle. “Wow, bud. Sounds like you missed the show. Her high school sweetheart, what’s-his-name…?”
Ice filling his veins, Cooper froze. Suddenly, he knew what B.J. was going to say—all his classmates had caught them doing exactly what he’d almost seen, maybe more.
Jesus.
Sick to his stomach, he uttered, “Travis Untermeyer.”
B.J. grinned and snapped her fingers. “Untermeyer. Yeah, that’s it. Well, the slimy little shit brought his wife and kids to the party, right?”
Cooper sat up straighter. Untermeyer was married? That he did not know.
“Well, that was all good and normal since that’s what everyone else did. But while his wife and kids were busy schmoozing with a bunch of people they didn’t know, he cornered Jo Ellen off somewhere alone and tried to make out with her. So she hauled off and jacked him between the legs with the tip of a very pointy shoe, from what I heard.”
