Chapter Two

Cooper

I let out a groan at the sound of the alarm and reach over to turn it off, cursing under my breath.

I'd been having a fabulous dream. It involved a shapely blonde with the most perfect ass in the world, and no boundaries whatsoever. If only real life could be like that, and you could have everything you've ever wanted, all at once…

But it was only a dream, ended far too soon, by the buzzing of my alarm, which is more than infuriating.

It's Saturday, goddammit, and if I hadn't said I'd help Brady and Laurel move into their new home, I'd have been able to sleep for at least another two hours. I'd have been able to dream of that delectable ass, and everything I could do with it, but as it is…

I turn over, knowing I can spare thirty minutes, and contemplate what I can do with my hard-on, and Meredith, even if her ass is strictly out of bounds. The smile that's tweaking at my lips soon becomes a frown when I realize she's not lying beside me, where I'd expected her to be. Instead, she's sitting with her back against the post at the corner of the bed, and even if she's naked, there's something defensive in her pose… her legs bent up and her arms wrapped around them.

"Come back to bed." I hold out one hand and pull back the covers with the other to reveal my arousal. She glances down for a second, her eyes widening, but then raises her auburn head again, and shakes it.

"Not right now," she says, which feels ominous.

"What's wrong?" I ask, regretting my words before they've even left my lips. Of course, if I'd been a little more awake, I'd have said something different… something that wouldn't have involved Meredith giving me an answer I don't want to hear.

"We need to talk."

I knew it. I knew she'd say that… or something like it.

Although to be fair, I don't think any man wants to hear those four words… especially first thing in the morning. Or last thing at night, come to that, and I roll onto my back, staring up at the ceiling. I've got a fair idea of what's coming, so I might as well get comfortable.

"What now?" I say, unable to keep the frustration out of my voice. That's got nothing to do with my hard-on and what we could have been doing with it. It's got everything to do with me not wanting to have this conversation. I never do. Although I know I don't have any choice. Meredith's got that look in her eyes that tells me there's no escape.

"Why do you say it like that?" she says, raising her voice a little.

This is going well. We haven't even gotten to the crux of the problem, and she's already mad at me.

"Like what?" I can't help myself, and rather than placating the situation, I escalate it. Not that I think Meredith's in the mood for being placated.

"Like this is something that happens all the time… like talking to me is the worst thing in the world. The truth is, you never want to talk."

I sit up, glaring at her. "No. The truth is, you never want to do anything but talk."

She kneels, exposing herself to me, reminding me of the various reasons I tolerate her. They're all on display… all within reach. But I'm not distracted by her. I'm getting ready to defend myself against the onslaught.

"Can I remind you about last night?" she says. "There wasn't much talking going on then."

I can't deny she's right about that. When I went downstairs to let her in, I noticed the familiar sparkle in her eyes. I'd seen it before, many times. I knew exactly what it meant, and didn't object to her dragging me back up here to my apartment. The moment the door closed, she threw herself into my arms, and while I wouldn't say I caught her, I certainly held her. I hadn't changed out of my scrubs, and even while we were kissing, she was already pulling off my top and yanking down my pants, her hands on my butt. I carried her to the couch, removing her jeans and t-shirt, and then we were all over each other… my dick in her mouth, my tongue on her clit, my fingers inside her wet pussy. After her first orgasm, I moved things in here so we could be more comfortable, and we fucked for as long as I could, before I finally came. I lost count of the number of orgasms she had, or how many times she screamed at me for more… but that's Meredith for you. She's always demanding something. Which is one of the things I find most infuriating about her. She's put up boundaries and limitations, all of which I've accepted… and yet she still wants more.

"Sure," I say. "But you started that. I didn't. You're the one who ripped my clothes off, Meredith."

"Yeah. Because I hadn't seen you all week."

"I know. Just like every other week. There was nothing different about last night."

"Exactly," she says, raising her voice yet again, and waving her arms this time, just for emphasis. "That's my point, Cooper."

"What is?"

"We never see each other."

"Yes, we do. Every weekend."

"Precisely."

I know where she's going with this. It's exactly what I expected her to say, and it's become a well-trodden path over the last few months. It was one we occasionally wandered down before that, but lately, she's raised this subject more and more often.

"This is what you wanted, Meredith. During the week, you get to paint, I do my job, and…"

"Why do you always refer to my painting like it's a hobby?" she says, interrupting me. "You do a job, but I just ‘paint'." She puts air quotes around that last word, pulling a face at the same time, and I want to tell her to stop being a child… except I know that won't end well.

"Okay. We both work during the week. Does that sound better?" She nods her head. "Fine. But the point is, we don't interfere in each other's schedules. That was your idea, if you remember? You're the one who insisted that me coming to your place during the week was too distracting. You like to be alone while you're painting, and I get that."

"I know, but…"

"But what?"

"The very least you could do is devote yourself to me – and to us – at the weekends."

I'm not too sure about the idea of devotion in any form. It has a ring of commitment to it that I find terrifying.

"Is this because I'm not gonna be here today?"

"Partly," she says, pouting. "We get so little time, and you're…"

"Helping a friend. That's all I'm doing. I gave you fair warning, and I said you could come along too, if you wanted."

She shakes her head. "It's not my thing. I explained that."

"And that's fine, Meredith. But you can't expect me to abandon my friends, when…"

"When you can abandon me instead," she says.

"I'm not abandoning you. It's one weekend, for fuck's sake." I push my fingers back through my hair, feeling exasperated.

"Maybe. But what about the next time… and the time after that?" She's sounding more and more like a child, and it's really starting to grate.

"You wanna fight about things that haven't even happened yet?"

"You know what I want. I want something more… something permanent."

‘More', and ‘permanent'. Two words that are like fingernails running down a chalkboard as far as I'm concerned.

"Why?"

"Why not? You're coming up for thirty-eight, Cooper. I'm gonna be thirty-four in January. Isn't it time we thought about settling down?"

Jesus… she's never used that phrase before. Settling down? Those two words are worse than ‘more' and ‘permanent' and have always filled me with dread.

"Why would we want to do that to do that?" Why would anyone?

"Because I don't like things the way they are. I want more, Cooper."

"I heard you the first time. And the second time… and every other time after that."

"And? What are you going to do about it?"

"Nothing."

She narrows her eyes, then sidles to the edge of the bed, climbing off. "So that's it? You're not going to change?"

"Why should I? I thought you liked me as I am."

"Not forever, Cooper." Who the hell said anything about ‘forever'? "You're not supposed to stay the same. You're supposed to grow… or at the very least, grow up."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome." She gives me a slight bob curtsey, which is purely ironic, and then she looks around the room. I guess she's wondering where her clothes are, and has forgotten we undressed in the living room. It clearly dawns on her after a second or two and she turns, flouncing through the door. I could lie here, but that would be childish, and besides, I need to shower, so I get up and follow her, leaning against the bedroom doorframe and watching as she pulls on her underwear.

"Before you say anything," she says, looking up at me. "This isn't my fault."

"Then whose is it? You're the one who started it, Meredith. You're the one who wanted to talk. Remember?"

"Yes. Because I thought you were enough of an adult to want to listen."

"I am. I just don't happen to agree."

She's pulling on her jeans, but turns to face me, managing not to fall over. "What does that mean?"

"It means I am who I am. You are who you are. If we can't be those people and be together, then…"

"Then maybe we're better off apart," she says, finishing my sentence for me. "I was thinking that myself."

She quickly fastens her jeans before grabbing her t-shirt and pulling it on over her head. Without another word, or even a glance in my direction, she slips on her shoes, and marches to the door, picking up her purse from the floor, where she dropped it last night as she threw herself at me. The contrast between then and now is too marked not to notice, but she's gone before I can say anything. Not that I know what I would have said. It certainly wouldn't have been ‘stay', or ‘come back', or ‘let's talk this through'. It wouldn't even have been ‘I'm sorry'. That's not my style. Neither is going after her, so that won't happen. I've never gone after anyone in my life, and there's no way I'm making an exception for Meredith.

Besides, she'll call later, once she's calmed down. She always does.

I know that sounds arrogant, but I'm just talking from experience. We've had fights before – more times than I want to think about. But one way or the other, she always comes back.

She'll call or text before the day is out. That's always the way… well, nearly always. A couple of times she's made me wait longer, but those were about her work, not about us. No… she'll call, no doubt telling me she didn't mean it. That was what she said the last time we fought about this, which is why I don't understand. What's the point in discussing this time after time, if all she's going to do is say she didn't mean it? Still, if it's anything like it has been in the past, she'll offer to make it up to me next weekend, and probably suggest how, and she'll even acknowledge that she'd go crazy if I was under her feet all time. Because she would. She's always made that clear, despite everything she's just said…

She's addicted to her art and usually hates it when people call it a ‘job'. To her, it's a way of life, and I've learned to accommodate that.

I didn't realize it when we first started seeing each other, but I guess that was because the attraction was physical… for both of us. She'd come over to Hart's Creek that Friday night and had spent the evening at Dawson's Bar with a friend of hers. I was there by myself. That hadn't been planned. I was supposed to be meeting Brady, but he'd been called out on an emergency and I'd decided to stay there, rather than going home. Throughout the evening, I couldn't escape the feeling that I was being watched, and eventually, I realized it was the pretty redhead at the bar who was doing the watching. She made the first move, jumping down from the barstool she was sitting on, and walking over to me, a sexy smile etched on her generous lips. I'll admit, though, that my attention was mostly drawn to her breasts. I may be an ass man, down to my very core, but I was willing to make an exception for the delights before me, which were barely encased in a white blouse, the buttons of which were straining to cover them. In a vague attempt to appear gentlemanly, I stood, and she looked up, licking her lips as she introduced herself, and when I offered her a seat, she accepted with a flutter of her eyelashes. I don't think either of us was in any doubt about where the evening was going, and we barely made it through the drinks I bought before impatience got the better of us.

She stayed the night, although we got little sleep, and as her friend had driven back to Willmont Vale, I gave her a ride home in the morning.

"Can I see you again?" she asked, looking up at me.

"Sure, if you want." I didn't see why not. We'd had fun. She seemed fairly easy-going, and her breasts certainly hadn't disappointed.

"Hmm… I want," she murmured, reaching over and resting her hand on my dick. I'd only fucked her about an hour earlier, in the shower, but I was ready to go again, and that must have been obvious to her. Her eyes lit up as she invited me inside, and who was I to say ‘no'?

I didn't stay for long. Just long enough to make my first mistake.

She had a painting hanging on the wall in her bedroom, and as I lay there, getting my breath back, I asked what it was supposed to be.

"It's not supposed to be anything," she said, throwing me a glare as she got out of bed. "That's not how art works."

It was to me, but I didn't say so.

When I left, she told me she had plans for the rest of the weekend. "But I can see you next Friday, if you like?"

"Sure."

We swapped numbers, and she called on the Thursday evening to make the arrangements.

"I'll come to your place," she said. "It'll be easier."

I wasn't about to argue, and after that, we got into an easy routine of seeing each other on the weekends. We didn't spend all our time together in those early days, but she'd usually come over on a Friday night and stay until Saturday evening, or sometimes Sunday morning. Our time wasn't spent exclusively in bed, either. We went out occasionally, too. But I have to say there was a lot of sex involved… and I mean a lot.

It seemed to work well for us… until we'd been together for about six weeks, I guess. I'd had a rough Tuesday at work, and I needed to unwind. By that, I mean I needed to have sex. I needed the release and I'm not going to apologize for that. Obviously, I knew I could have jerked off, but that would never have been enough. I could also have gone out and found whatever I needed in the arms of another woman, but that felt like hard work when I knew Meredith was just a car ride away. I didn't see the harm in going over there. The problem was, she hadn't been expecting me, and she made that very clear the moment she opened the door.

"I'm right in the middle of something," she said, glaring up at me.

"Sorry. Do you want me to go?"

She gave that some thought and then shook her head. "You're here now."

It was hardly the greeting I'd hoped for, but she let me in and insisted I had to wait downstairs in the living room while she went up to her studio and finished what she was working on. She was gone for nearly an hour, and I'll be honest… I thought about leaving. I hadn't driven over there to sit by myself. If that was all I'd wanted, I could have done it at home. Eventually, though, she reappeared, wiping her hands on a towel.

"You shouldn't just turn up like that," she said, shaking her head at me.

"Why? Have you got another man upstairs?"

Neither of us had talked about being exclusive, and while I wasn't keen on the idea that I might have been sitting downstairs while she was upstairs with someone else, I could hardly have complained.

She smiled, dropping the towel, and walked over, her hips swaying seductively. "No. I'm not like that, Cooper."

It seemed unreasonable to say I wasn't either, bearing in mind the only reason I wasn't spending my evening with someone else was because I was too lazy. Instead, I smiled and said, "In that case, come here."

I nodded toward the bulge in my jeans, and she licked her lips, kneeling before me.

I didn't leave until the early hours of the following morning. She seemed reluctant to let me go, but we both needed some sleep and it didn't seem like we were going to get any if I stayed. She kissed me goodbye on her doorstep, neither of us mentioning her outburst of the previous night.

I guess that's why I thought it would be okay when I went over there a couple of weeks later. I can't remember what made me do it, but something did, and when she opened her door, I realized my mistake.

"Cooper? Seriously? I've told you about coming over here when I'm busy."

"Shall I leave?"

"I think it would be best. I'm working on an enormous canvas, and I can't stop, just because you've decided…"

I held up my hand, and she stopped talking.

"I get the message, Meredith."

I turned and left, driving home and feeling disgruntled. I didn't mind accommodating her work. It was her attitude I objected to. So, when she called about an hour later, I ignored her. She called again, and in a moment of childish petulance, I switched off my phone and poured myself a beer. I found a half decent movie, and I lay out on the couch to watch it, jumping out of my skin when the intercom buzzed about thirty minutes later.

"Who is it?" I said into the mouthpiece.

"It's me."

I recognized Meredith's voice, and although part of me felt like telling her to go away, I decided not to be as rude as her, and told her to hold on while I went down to let her in. One of the few disadvantages of the layout at my place is that the entrance to the apartment is via the clinic. That meant I had to go downstairs and through the reception to get to the front door, and I'll admit, I didn't hurry. She was waiting, wearing a knee-length coat tied with a belt at the waist, and high-heeled pumps, and she looked up at me, biting on her bottom lip.

"Am I forgiven?" she said, and slowly undid the belt around her coat, holding it open to reveal she was wearing nothing other than a lacy black bra and matching panties.

I pulled her inside and straight up the stairs, where I let her make it up to me for a couple of hours.

After that, we agreed that meeting up during the week wasn't a good idea.

"I know you probably think I'm being selfish, but I love what I do," she said, her hand resting on my dick as she lay beside me, her head on my chest.

"I love what I do, too."

"Then I think it's for the best, don't you?"

I nodded my head. I wasn't keen to be balled out again, just for going to see her, and I have to say, as time's gone on, it's worked out okay. We've perfected the art of living separately during the week, working fairly long hours, doing whatever chores need doing, and seeing our friends. We don't even call each other. But from Friday night onward, she's here, usually in my bed… until around nine on Sunday evening, when she goes home again to start another week.

We're vaguely exclusive now… by which I mean I don't see anyone else. That doesn't mean I don't look. I look quite a lot, if I'm being honest. Meredith probably does the same, even if she doesn't do anything about it, because she's not like that. I don't make a move on anyone else because it's not my style, and because I'm still too lazy to make the effort. I can't see anything wrong with that, or with the way we are. It works for us. Or I thought it did… until about ten minutes ago.

Sure, Meredith's talked about wanting more before. She's even walked out on me a few times. Not just about this, but about other things, too… like me not appreciating her paintings as much as she thinks I should, and her ass being out of bounds. Still, that's a whole other story, and it's going to have to wait. I've wasted enough time thinking about things that don't matter, when I know what I should be doing is taking a shower. I'll admit I'd been hoping to share that particular pleasure with Meredith, but she's not here anymore, so I guess I'll just have to wait.

It won't be for long.

It never is with Meredith.