Chapter Eight

Cooper

As Greta makes her way to the restroom, I wander back into the surgery, my head bowed, and for the second time in twenty-four hours, I wonder what just happened.

There was a moment back then when I felt like I'd lost my mind. It's something that seems to happen all too often these days, but in that moment of madness, I think I asked Mallory to come to the Fall Festival with me. No… I don't think I did. I know I did. I can remember saying the words… planning to collect her from her apartment at noon tomorrow.

What on earth made me do that?

I already told her I'm not the kind of guy who makes the first move. And I'm not.

In the past, my relationships – if they can be called that – have just kind of happened, with no intervention from me. Like when I met Meredith in Dawson's Bar and she wandered over to my table. It's always been like that. Brady wasn't kidding when he said that to Laurel the other night.

So what possessed me to change my ways?

And why am I thinking about relationships and Mallory at the same time?

Is this another of those ‘losing my mind' moments? Or is it that I'm still in shock after discovering she doesn't have a boyfriend? It's possible. Although that doesn't account for why I asked her to the Fall Festival in the first place. I'd already put the invitation out there by the time she revealed that little nugget of information. She seemed confused by why I'd asked… but nowhere near as confused as I was. Not just by the fact that the question had left my lips, but by her answer.

She doesn't have a boyfriend.

I didn't know how to react when she said that. After all, I've spent the last week trying to forget what I heard on Sunday night when I got back from Brady and Laurel's place. I've done my best not to imagine her in the arms of another man, in the throes of ecstasy… not to picture her naked whenever I've seen her, and not to feel jealous of whoever the lucky guy was who got to make her come so hard.

I've also jerked off every night, and sometimes in the mornings, too. That's made it even harder to look at her, knowing she fuels my fantasies. There have been a couple of days when she's looked particularly alluring for some reason. I can't say what that reason is, but she's looked too sexy for words, and when we've finished work, I've rushed up to my apartment, the door barely closed behind me before I've had my dick in my hand.

I don't remember being this horny, even when I was a teenager.

It's like I can't get enough… like I'll never get enough.

I don't remember coming so hard, either. Every time is just like it was in the shower on Sunday night… like my body is possessed.

By Mallory. By thoughts of Mallory, dreams of Mallory…

Which is why looking her in the eye has become practically impossible over the last few days… just like I knew it would.

Although it's not just about sex. That's what makes this situation even more weird.

Not only do I fantasize about stripping her out of her clothes, discovering her with my tongue, lying her naked beneath me, and burying myself deep inside her, I've also dreamed of other things. Things like taking romantic walks, sitting across from her at a candlelit table, cradling her in my arms while she sleeps…

I know it's weird, and I never thought I'd say this, but for the first time in my life, I want more.

It's a concept I've always shied away from. Meredith could testify to that, as could every other woman I've ever dated, and I wonder if that's why I'm struggling… if that's why I feel so strange.

I move over to the other side of the room, leaning against the countertop that runs around two of the walls, shaking my head, even though I can't help smiling.

Why?

Because discovering Mallory doesn't have a boyfriend can only mean one thing… and that's enough to make any man smile. It means there's no need to agonize over picturing her in the arms of another man. Instead, I can dream of her lying naked, her legs spread wide, her fingers strumming across her clit. I like to think she wouldn't be gentle with herself, but that she'd rub ferociously, and maybe dip her fingers inside her soaking entrance. She'd be dripping with need, and she'd gather up her juices and smear them over her shaved pussy. In my dreams she's shaved, you see, and I let out a groan, my dick as hard as nails, as the thought crosses my mind that maybe she's so good at making herself come because she's never had a boyfriend to do it for her.

I reach down and stroke my cock through my pants, struggling not to come.

What if she's a virgin?

"Oh fuck," I whisper, pulling my hand away.

I shouldn't be thinking like that. And I should stop this nonsense. Except it isn't nonsense, is it?

Yes, it is.

Mallory's my receptionist. She works for me. I have a position of responsibility here…

Even if I can't stop thinking about her. Even if I want her so much, it hurts.

I shake my head.

I need to think of something else, other than Mallory, naked or otherwise. If I don't, I'll still have a raging hard-on when my next patient arrives.

The problem is, she's become a constant thought in my head… one I can't seem to shift, even when I'm supposed to be thinking about other things.

Although Meredith isn't one of them.

She was… at least somewhere in the back of my mind. But she's not anymore.

I meant it when I said to Mallory that she didn't have to worry about Meredith… because she's a thing of the past after a conversation I had earlier today. It wasn't a conversation with Meredith. I still haven't heard a word from her, but I've heard of her, from Angela. She's the receptionist at the Hart's Creek Courier, and I met her by chance on Main Street.

I'd heard Mallory leave for lunch, and had gone out myself just a few minutes later, knowing she wouldn't be at her desk, and I wouldn't have to run the gauntlet of trying not to look at her. That's something I've struggled with all week. I've struggled to the extent that I've even eaten lunch upstairs in my apartment on a couple of occasions, rather than spend too much time with her. I know that makes it sound like I don't want to be with her, when I do. The problem is, I want more than lunch and idle chatter, friendly smiles and occasional touches over the kitchen sink. I want to devour her… to have her whisper her deepest, darkest needs to me, and then to fulfill them. Every single one. I want her to scream my name and beg me for more. And then, when I've given her everything she needs, I want to hold her in my arms and caress her soft skin until she falls asleep… and dreams of me.

And that's the problem. When you want it all, having nothing is like torture. Imagine being a child in a candy store, feasting your eyes on all the brightly colored confections, only to be told none of it is for you. That's what this feels like. There's all the temptation, and none of the satisfaction.

The problem this lunchtime was, I needed some fresh air, so once I'd heard the front door close, I wandered out into the reception, waiting until I saw Mallory cross the street before I went out myself, turning left along the sidewalk.

I'd only gone a few paces when Angela came out of the newspaper's offices, and we practically bumped into each other. I don't know what her excuse was for not paying attention. Mine was Mallory. Either way, we apologized, and then she looked up at me, with a sympathetic smile on her face, which I found confusing.

"I was sorry to hear about you and Meredith."

"Me and Meredith?" I didn't want to admit I'd barely given her a thought since the weekend, and I did my best to sound interested.

"Yes." Angela's brow furrowed, and she looked as confused as I felt. "She told me you'd split up. Not in so many words, but…" She stopped talking, and I did my best to keep a blank expression on my face.

"Oh," I said. I couldn't think of anything else that wouldn't give away that this was news to me. As far as I was concerned, Meredith was still mad at me. She hadn't broken up with me. But clearly Angela knew something I didn't. "What did she say?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

"She called asking if I could move her stall at the festival. I'm helping to organize it this year, you see, and Meredith asked if her pitch could be put next to Zeke Hooper's."

"And who is Zeke Hooper?" I asked.

"He's a guy who makes pottery. It's quite nice, actually."

"That's lovely, but what's the connection with Meredith?"

She smiled. "According to her, they're an item. That's why she wanted her pitch moved. So they could be together."

"I see," I said, nodding my head, trying to look disinterested.

Angela darted off then, saying something about getting to Willmont Vale and back before one-thirty, and I wandered slowly down Main Street.

Meredith's involvement with Zeke Hooper made sense of why she hadn't been in touch since our fight, although there was a part of me that couldn't help wondering if he'd been on the sidelines all along. It seemed unlikely, given our most recent fight, but the truth was, I had no way of knowing. And I sure as hell wasn't about to call her. Aside from it not being my style, I was happy at the prospect of being free of her. In fact, I was fucking delirious, and I returned to the office with a spring in my step.

Maybe that explains why I asked Mallory to the Fall Festival.

Who knows?

Either way, it's too late to worry about it now.

I move over, standing in front of the computer screen to check my schedule. Mr. Bryant is due in in ten minutes, but I can't decide how to fill the time… other than thinking about Mallory. I let my head fall into my hands. Even if I am a free agent, and even if she fills my every thought, should I have invited her to the Fall Festival with me? Was that the right thing to do, knowing what I want… and since when did I worry so much about right and wrong? Jesus… what's happening to me? I stand up straight and turn around, shaking my head, just as Greta comes into the room. She closes the door and turns, scowling at me.

"Was that fair?" she says, keeping her voice low.

"Was what fair?"

"Asking that young girl on a date."

"It's not a date," I say, going on the defensive, even though I've been thinking of it as just that ever since I issued the invitation.

"You tell Mallory that." Greta comes closer, narrowing her eyes at me. "She's a lovely girl. She's sweet and kind, and far too good for you."

"Thanks."

"Well, she is. You're still mooning over Meredith."

"I've never mooned over anyone."

"Okay," she says, holding up her hand. "But you're still trying to work things out with her, aren't you?"

"No. We're through. I wasn't lying when I told Mallory that."

"I wasn't aware you had told her that. You skirted around it."

"She understood." If she hadn't, there's no way she'd have agreed to come out with me. I can see that, even if Greta can't. It's why she asked about Meredith in the first place.

She shakes her head, evidently still less than satisfied. "She was never right for you."

"Who? Meredith?"

"Of course. If she'd been right for you, you wouldn't have spent so much time looking at other women."

"It wasn't that much time," I say, feeling uncomfortable.

"Yes, it was. It was certainly more time than should be devoted to other women when you're supposed to be in a relationship."

I can't deny that, but I'm not sure I like having my life choices scrutinized by someone who works for me.

"What's your point, Greta?"

"My point is that Mallory deserves better."

"Better than me?"

"Better than the way you've always behaved around women." She shakes her head, like a disapproving school mistress, who's just caught her favorite student cheating, and she goes over toward the storeroom, before she turns and looks back at me. "Don't hurt her, Cooper."

I want to say I won't, but with all the uncertainties rolling around my head, I can't be sure of anything…

I can't even be sure I won't hurt her.

But I know if I do, I'll never forgive myself.

My last patient of the day is a complicated extraction. It should have been straightforward, but as with most things in my life right now, it hasn't run to plan, and by the time Mr. Reynolds is ready to leave, it's nearly six-fifteen. We should have been finished forty-five minutes ago, and he's as relieved to get out of here as the rest of us.

Greta leads him out to the reception, with a leaflet of follow-up instructions, which she's repeating to him almost verbatim, while I start clearing up. There's quite a lot to do, but when Greta returns, I'm most of the way through it.

"Is he booked in to come back?" I ask.

"Yes." She doesn't tell me when, and just gets on with helping. Part of me wants to tell her not to bother, but I'm tired and don't feel like finishing all this by myself.

With two of us, it takes a lot less time, and before long, she's ready to go.

"I don't think I told you, but I'll need to leave early next Friday," she says as I follow her out.

"Oh?"

"I have a doctor's appointment."

I know better than to ask for details, and wait while she fetches her things from the lunchroom, locking the front door after she's gone.

As I walk back past, I glance down at Mallory's desk. She's already gone for the day, but I know she'll only be up in her apartment, and I can't help wondering if I should go up there and withdraw my invitation to the festival. I still don't know why I made it. I'm her boss, and I'd hate for anyone – particularly Mallory – to think I'm taking advantage of her… especially as I know that my thoughts about her aren't entirely innocent. They're far from it. They're about as sordid as it gets.

I switch off the lights and climb the stairs, by-passing my door and heading for the next flight, up to Mallory's place. Putting my foot on the first step, I stop, taking a deep breath. What will I say to her? I mean, Greta might have thought it was unfair of me to invite her, but would it be kinder to go back on that?

No. No, it wouldn't.

I step back and retreat to my own front door, opening it and letting myself in.

As I flop onto the couch, I wonder if it would be easier if I didn't want Mallory so much. Obviously, there's every chance I wouldn't have asked her to the festival with me, if that were the case. But if I had, would it be simpler not to want her? Would it be less complicated if I could allow my feelings for her to grow, rather than starting off at the deep end, like this? Or is that merely a part of what makes it so confusing? Is it more difficult because she's been a regular feature in my life for the last three months, and yet I've only really noticed her – only really wanted her – since last weekend?

Why are there so many questions?

I close my eyes, although they pop open again almost immediately, fixing on the ceiling above my head. There it is… that same sound I heard last Sunday night. I haven't heard it since, but I know exactly what it is. It's Mallory. And now I know she doesn't have a boyfriend, I know exactly what she's doing.

Instinctively, I lower my pants, freeing my bone-hard cock and wrapping my hand around it.

"Oh, yeah, babe…" I whisper the words, imagining her sprawled on my bed, gazing up at me, as she fingers herself. Her mouth is open, and while I'm tempted by that, I find it hard to resist everything else that's on offer. I want to taste her. I want to feel her come on my tongue right before I bury myself deep inside her. More than anything, though, I want to claim her ass. Oh, shit… that's gonna make me come already. I open my eyes, just to erase that thought… to delay things, but I can't, and I stifle a cry as my body convulses into yet another almighty orgasm.

I want her so fucking much, but even as I'm drifting back down to earth, my senses returning to something like normal, I hear a cry from above, and although I have to strain, I can definitely make out the words, "More… give me more…" between Mallory's gasps and sighs.

I'd happily give her anything she wants, and I have to smile, even though I'm a mess now. It's the first time we've shared something like that… and I just wish there didn't have to be a ceiling between us. Or anything else, for that matter.

I don't know why I'm awake so early, other than the fact I've barely been to sleep. After I showered last night, I fixed something to eat and watched a movie, aware of Mallory's presence upstairs the entire time. I'd have heard if she'd gone out, and she didn't. The temptation to climb the stairs and offer her the ‘more' she'd been crying out for was almost too much for me, and in the end I came to bed, hoping sleep would get the better of me.

It was a vain hope, because all I did was lie awake, thinking about her.

It's like I'm obsessed. But I'm still not sure, even now, in the cold morning light, that I should be thinking about her like that. I'm still not sure it's ‘right'.

I get up and shower again, resisting the urge to jerk off. I'm not sure my body can take much more, so I try to think of something else… anything to take my mind off of Mallory. It seems to switch to thinking of Meredith instead, and that has the desired effect on my cock. It's impossible not to wonder about her and the guy she's with now, and I'll admit I'm curious… partly about whether he's been around for longer than she might like to admit, but mostly about who he is. I remember someone attending the festival last year who sold pottery, but I can't remember his name, or what he looked like. It could have been Zeke Hooper. It could have been anyone. I wasn't paying attention at the time.

Still… I guess I'll find out later. They clearly can't bear to be separated, even for an afternoon. Not if Meredith's call to Angela is anything to go by.

When I'm done, all thoughts of Mallory and Meredith set aside, I get out of the shower, and dress in jeans and a button-down shirt. The weather forecast says it's going to be warm today, so I won't need a sweater, and I head out into the kitchen, fixing myself some breakfast.

I've got an entire morning to kill, but there's plenty to do. My absence last weekend and my preoccupation with Mallory throughout the week means the apartment needs tidying, and I've got enough laundry to keep me busy for more than a few hours.

The time passes quickly, though, and before I know it, I'm climbing the stairs to Mallory's apartment, surprised by how nervous I feel… to the extent that I have to take a deep breath and shake out my hands before knocking on her door.

She answers almost immediately, and even as I'm taking in how beautiful she looks, the strangest thing happens. There's a lightness in my chest, and although neither of us moves an inch, I can feel myself being pulled toward her. I can't fight it. I should, but I don't want to.

"You look lovely," I say, remembering to speak, my eyes dropping to her knee-length black dress, which has a floral pattern around the hemline. It's cinched in at the waist, and low-cut enough that I don't need to use too much imagination to visualize what's underneath.

"Thank you." She stares up at me, her baby-blue eyes blinking back, and I suck in a breath, just gazing at her, until she coughs, and I realize she's waiting for me to move, so she can get out of her apartment.

"Sorry," I murmur, feeling a fool, but she doesn't seem to notice and just steps out, closing the door behind her.

I let her go down the stairs ahead of me, reminding myself I'm not seventeen anymore, and that I wasn't this pathetic, even when I was.

Once we get onto the sidewalk, we walk side-by-side, crossing over the street together. I can't think of a single thing to say, but fortunately Mallory can.

"Does anything else happen here? Apart from the Fall Festival, I mean?" She nods toward Hart's Green as she's speaking and I smile down at her.

"There's the Christmas Fair, and the Fourth of July picnic. I guess you only missed that by a few days."

"Yeah. I got here on July tenth. But it sounds like it would have been fun." She pauses for a second, tilting her head at me. "Did you go with Meredith?"

"No. I went with Brady and Laurel. Meredith was busy doing something with some friends of hers." That's what she told me, although I guess it's possible she was with Zeke Hooper, and I glance around as we walk onto the green, my eyes landing on her stall, which is right next to his, as expected.

From here, the pottery looks nice enough, and it's certainly more pleasing to the eye than Meredith's paintings. I've never liked them. Abstract art has never been my thing, but Meredith seems to have plumbed new depths with the definition of that term, and even from here, I can feel myself getting a headache. I'm not sure I want to go any closer, but a sudden influx of people seems to carry us in that direction, and I can't help observing how my ex-girlfriend is currently clinging to the man beside her. He's got his arms around her, and she's gazing up at him with a look I remember well. She used to stare at me like that… usually when she wanted something from me.

As for Zeke Hooper… he's nothing like I expected. He's slim, with a goatee beard and shoulder-length hair. I also notice he's got very long fingers. Maybe that's a useful attribute if you're a potter. Who knows? Who cares? I know I don't, and I'm just about to turn away when Meredith looks up at him and he dips his head, their lips meeting in a passionate kiss.

I don't think she's aware of my presence, so I can't believe this is being done for my benefit… and even if it is, seeing her like that, in the arms of another man, doesn't hurt. It doesn't do anything, other than make me regret the time I've wasted waiting for her to come back. I can't blame her for that. She wasn't to know I'd wait. Although she could have let me know we were over. She could have told me she was with someone else. I wouldn't have minded. I just feel a fool for having assumed she still wanted me, when all the while she's been with this other guy.

Still, that's my fault, not hers. It's my arrogance that's to blame. I shouldn't have made assumptions, should I? She said she'd had enough, and she clearly meant it.

And that's just fine.

I turn, looking down at Mallory, who's standing beside me and doesn't seem to have noticed my distraction. She's gazing around at the other stalls, a smile etched on her perfect face, her eyes sparkling, and I feel that lightness in my chest again… that same sensation of being drawn to her.

"Do you want to—" I say, just as someone taps me on the shoulder and I spin around, coming face to face with Ryan Andrews. He's got his sleeping baby son in one of those baby carriers, strapped to his front, and is accompanied by Peony, who looks up at me, smiling. Like everyone else in Hart's Creek, Peony is someone I've known for years, mostly from a distance, thanks to the age gap between us… although we've become better acquainted since Laurel and Brady got together.

"We've been calling to you," she says.

"Sorry. I was distracted."

"Clearly." She looks at Mallory, smiling, and I wonder if she's seen through me. I don't think it would be too hard right now. "We haven't met before, have we?" she says, tilting her head.

"Not unless you've had any dental work done in the last three months," Mallory says with a smile. "I'm Cooper's receptionist."

"Ahh… I see."

"Mallory… this is Peony and Ryan…" I stop talking, realizing the mistake I was about to make. "I was gonna say Peony and Ryan Andrews, but Peony kept her maiden name when they got married, so she's still Peony Hart."

Mallory looks up at me and says, "That wasn't at all confusing, Cooper."

Everyone laughs, which makes the baby stir, and Ryan rubs his back, whispering softly, and kissing his head. For a second, I feel another pang of something, and although I'm not sure what it is, I'm not going to question it. Today has been weird enough already.