The One Real Thing
Page 106

She curled her lip in disgust. “She must think every woman is exactly like her.”
“She’s an idiot. And an annoyance. But I don’t think we should give her any of our time. Like you said, we just need to watch out for her.”
“But your license—Cooper, we need to do something about that now. Devlin . . .” She sighed, giving him a wary look. “Ian Devlin approached me the day I broke up with you.”
What the . . . Cooper tensed.
“He knows about what I did to my uncle. Like I said, those records are sealed because I was a juvenile, so he must have paid off someone to get his grubby hands on them.”
“What are you talking about?” he bit out, trying for her sake to hold on to a semblance of calm.
“He tried to blackmail me. He said he’d tell you what I was hiding unless I convinced you to give up the bar.”
He was going to kill him.
He was going to fucking kill him!
His anger exploded and he pushed off the bed with every intention of finding the piece of shit and tearing him apart.
Who the fuck used something like what Jess had been through against a person?
“Coop!” Jess threw herself at his back as he was storming out, wrapping her whole body around him like a monkey. It would have been funny if he weren’t so mad. “No!”
He trembled with his fury. “Get off me, Jessica.”
“No! He is not worth it!”
“You’re worth it!”
Her arms tightened around his neck. “Coop,” she whispered. “Calm down.”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his blood still too hot. “He can’t get away with this.”
“Sweetheart.” She slid off him and moved around to face him, cupping his face in her hands. “The only way to defeat someone like Devlin is to save your bar and to stop him from getting his hands on anything on our boardwalk.”
Cooper considered her words and slowly he started to tremble a little less. He nodded. “Tremaine said something.”
“Yeah?”
“He really doesn’t want Devlin getting his hands on boardwalk property. We can use him. Maybe he can help put a stop to whatever Devlin is planning.”
“Good.” Jessica gave him a relieved smile, pressing her body into his. “Now promise me you aren’t going to go after Devlin. With your fists.”
He wanted to punch the smug look off the conniving, soulless bastard’s face.
But for her . . . “I promise.”
She relaxed against him. “Good.” She pressed her cheek against his chest. “I’m so tired, Coop. Do you think we can start fighting him tomorrow?”
A rush of love crashed over him, washing every other feeling away. He kissed the side of her head and then turned to lead her back to his bed. “Anything for you, Doc.”
And he meant it.
But best of all it no longer made him uneasy to mean it.
He was sure.
He was certain.
Because the doc was a good woman and Cooper was wise enough now to know that a good woman was the most beautiful woman any man could have for his own.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Jessica
Bailey stared at me, her face pale, eyes gone round with a sadness that turned to tears as I told her my story.
Cooper had assured me that I didn’t owe my story to anyone—but also that he knew Bailey and he knew Bailey loved me. He said if I told my friend, all she would do was accept me and help me realize that I wasn’t destined to spend my whole life being rejected by the people I loved. He’d also urged me to contact Theresa.
“She’s your family, Jess. Give her a chance.”
I’d decided to be brave and take his advice.
First, I was starting with Bailey.
When I was done telling her everything I had gone through, she just shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks, and then she reached for me, hauling me close for a hug so tight I almost couldn’t breathe.
Bailey pulled back to cup my face in an almost motherly way. “How?” she whispered. “How can someone like you have been through so much?” She gave me a watery smile. “Bravest person I know, Jess. Bravest person I know.”
Relief poured through me. It was my turn to hug the oxygen out of her. “Thank you,” I choked out.
“I can’t believe you’ve been holding on to this so long.” She pulled back. “I wish you’d come to me sooner just so I could knock some sense into you about Cooper.”
I laughed. “Yeah. I’m an idiot. But I’m over that now.”
She grinned. “Good. So . . . about the inn? Does this mean I’ve got you back?”
I gave her a shaky, apologetic smile. “Actually . . . I was thinking about applying for the position at Dr. Duggan’s clinic.”
“Really?” She grabbed my hands in hers, looking genuinely delighted.
I laughed again. “Yes. I’m guessing you’re okay with that?”
“Of course I am. Jess! You’re a doctor! Not an innkeeper. Not that I won’t miss the help,” she hurried to assure me, “I’ll just need to find someone else I can trust.”
“You will,” I assured her back.
“So this is exciting.” She gave me a wicked smile. “You have no idea what you’re in for as a small-town doctor.”
“What do you mean?” I said, concerned by the mischief in her eyes.
“Being a small-town doc is being a full-time doc. No matter where you are—out for lunch, canoodling with Coop on the beach—people will come up to you with all their ailments, expecting a diagnosis.”