She moved out of the room and he followed. In spite of his mixed emotions while watching Laramie’s bedtime routine, Coop enjoyed walking behind Bristol. She helped keep his libido healthy. He thought now what he’d thought a number of times before. She looked good in jeans. He wondered if his son’s birth was the reason behind all those curves that now looked even more delectable to him.
“Coffee or beer?”
Bristol’s question thrown over her shoulder drew his attention. He had a feeling he would need something stronger than coffee. Probably even stronger than beer, so he would take the alcohol. “Beer.”
She kept walking toward the kitchen while he remained in the living room. With her no longer in sight, he turned his attention to the Christmas tree. He might be wrong but it looked like she’d added more ornaments than were there yesterday. The tree looked all bright and festive, recalling to his mind how perfunctorily the tradition was observed in his own family. His parents, or rather the housekeeper, put up a tree every year. And it remained up until New Year’s whether anyone was there to enjoy it or not.
He couldn’t help but recall his telephone call to his parents earlier today, to let them know about Laramie. They were surprised he’d been so careless with protection and his father had strongly suggested Coop get a blood test before claiming anyone. His mother had stated that if Laramie was truly his, then they would give the little boy all the love they’d given to Coop. He’d had to chuckle at that.
When his mother asked what was funny, he’d respectfully said nothing. They just didn’t get it, but at this point in his life, he didn’t care. His parents weren’t going to change and he was used to their behavior.
A part of him wondered if he would one day find his soul mate, like his father had. Coop knew well the story of how his parents had met in college and fallen in love, apparently at first sight. He often wondered if his parents had really planned for him, although they claimed they had. One thing was for certain, if Coop ever did meet his soul mate, he wouldn’t get so wrapped up in her that he wouldn’t love with equal intensity any child they’d made together.
He drew in a deep breath. Why was he thinking about soul mates? As far as he was concerned, one didn’t exist for him. Laramie would most likely be his only child. He was satisfied with that.
“Here you are.”
He turned and Bristol handed him his beer. It was cold, but what he felt was the warmth of her hand when they touched. She had a beer for herself, as well. This was the first time he’d seen her drink beer instead of tea.
“I didn’t know you drank beer,” he said, tempted to reach out and touch that lone dimple in one of her cheeks.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Coop.”
She had him there. “What do you want to talk about?” he asked.
She moved past him to sit down on the sofa and, as usual, he watched her movements. He wanted to go sit beside her, but knew he shouldn’t. For two people who’d made a baby together, they were as far apart as ever. He felt it. She was upset about something and he couldn’t wait to hear what it was. He moved to sit down in the chair across from her.
“I want to talk about what you told Laramie.”
He lifted a brow. “And what did I tell Laramie?”
The lamp in the room cast a soft light on her features. She wore her hair up in a ponytail with little curls fanning her face. He remembered her wearing a similar style three years ago. He’d taken the band out of her hair so it could fan around her shoulders. His fingers itched to do the same thing now.
“That you would always come back to him.”
“I will.”
She frowned. “You don’t know that.”
Now he was the one who frowned. “Do you think I’d deliberately stay away after seeing him? After getting to know him? You think I’d shuck my responsibilities? Even worse—that I could stop loving him and forget about him?”
“That’s not what I’m insinuating, Coop. You’re missing the point.”
He leaned forward, needing to study her expression. To try deciphering what the hell she was talking about. “So what is the point? Why don’t I know that I will always come back to him?”
“Because.”
He lifted a brow. “Because what?”
He watched her bury her face in her hands and draw in a deep breath before looking back up at him. The anguish he saw in her gaze made his insides clench when she said, “Because you could die.”
Coop didn’t say anything. Flashes of a time when everyone thought he had died, when he’d lived each day extremely close to death, filtered through his mind. He pushed the memories back and concentrated on the real fear he saw in Bristol’s eyes. That was what he would address. “Yes, I could die. But so could you.”
He saw the shiver pass through her before she lifted her chin. “Don’t even try to compare what I do with what you do. I paint. You and others like you carry the weight of the world and all of the country’s problems on your shoulders. You constantly put your life in danger, Coop. Do you deny that?”
He shook his head. “No, I don’t deny it. But whenever I leave for any mission, I have every intention of coming back. Would you have preferred me to tell my son I won’t be coming back?”
“No, but I wish you wouldn’t make promises you might not be able to keep. If anything ever happens to you, I will be the one who has to explain what happened.”
Why were they talking about him dying? Thanks to his son, he had every reason to live, not that he’d ever taken life lightly. But now he had someone in his life who made living doubly important. “I think you’re going to the extreme with this, Bristol.”
It was clear his words angered her. “You think I’m going to the extreme? You aren’t the one who got word while four months pregnant that the father of her child was dead. Dead, Coop. I thought you’d died like all the others.”
He frowned. “What others?”
“It doesn’t matter. I prefer you don’t make promises to Laramie you might not be able to keep.”
He stood, feeling angry now, as well. “Then I suggest you do the same. Stop telling him at bedtime that you’ll see him in the morning. Anything can happen to you overnight. You could even die in your sleep.”
She narrowed her gaze at him. “Stop being ridiculous.”
His jaw tightened. “Then I suggest you stop being ridiculous, too. There are no guarantees in life. People die every day. When your time comes, there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.”
She took a step forward. Got in his face. “I guess of all people you should know, since you had a chance to beat death.”
Not good, he thought, meeting her eyes. He wished she didn’t smell so good and he definitely preferred her not standing so close. As if it had a will of its own, his gaze moved from her face to her body. She was beautiful even when she was
