The One Night(9)

And I thought this night was going to be a complete bust.

Looks like things just got interesting.

But what’s even more interesting? Cooper is not the man I remember from a year ago. He’s stacked on some muscles he never had before. He changed out his glasses from a round silver frame to a more stylish square black frame. And instead of the clean-shaven man I’ve seen in many pictures, he’s now sporting a solid scruff, which toes the line of full beard.

Someone had a bit of a glow up after their divorce, and it’s doing him good.

Really good.

And you probably shouldn’t be looking at him in that way . . . Nora.

Sighing heavily, he flops onto a stool and drapes his large arms on the bar top. “Whiskey, please,” he says to Earl, head turned down.

When he took a seat, he left a stool between us, which is telling me two things—he’s willing to have a conversation, but he also doesn’t want to be completely open to talking.

But this is too much fun for me not to have a conversation with the man.

“So . . . your parents as wingmen. That’s a first,” I say.

Slowly, he tilts his head to the side until our eyes meet. “Not by my choice.”

“I gathered that by your ever-present sulking. You know, some might feel quite lucky that their parents care so much about their love lives.”

“Mine are too involved.”

I shrug. “I think it’s cute. Trolling the streets for nice girls—feels like a YouTube series. I can see the opening credits. You three, linked arm in arm, skipping down the sidewalk together.”

Cooper scrubs his hand over his face. “I should have gone with option number one.”

“Huh?” I ask.

Earl places a glass of whiskey in front of Cooper, and with one swift motion, he tilts his head back and downs the entire glass. When he sets it back on the bar top, he clears his throat. “Could I have another? Thanks.”

“Oh, that kind of night, huh?”

“What do you think?”

“I think you’re looking at this all wrong.”

He turns on his stool to face me, his expression suddenly intent. “Oh yeah, please tell me how exactly I’m looking at this all wrong.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” I lift my beer and finish it off before holding up the empty bottle to Earl. “Could I get another?” He nods with a wink and quickly delivers. Such a good man. I twist the cap off the bottle. “Your parents are taking the hard work out of your hands. Not sure how far you are into the dating scene, but it’s rather unpleasant, trying to meet people. You spend all this time talking to them, trying to gauge if they’re a decent enough person, only to find out that they collect toenail clippings in their spare time.” He cringes at that. “But your parents are taking that work away from you,” I continue. “They’re doing the dirty work, and you’re reaping the benefits. I think that’s a pretty decent deal if you ask me.”

“But they’re my parents.”

“Yes, there seems to be a certain stigma to that, but any intelligent woman would be able to look past such a thing.” I fluff my hair with a smirk.

“Are you saying you’re intelligent?” he asks, lifting his glass to his lips.

“Are you saying I’m not?” I quirk a brow at him.

“I don’t know enough about you to make an honest assessment.”

“And whose fault is that?” I ask. “You know, you were married to my best friend, but we’ve also known each other for years, since our parents are good friends and all. You’ve had plenty of time to assess my intelligence.”

“Never noticed.”

Not surprised. Cooper has always had a one-track mind. It’s one of the things I find fascinating about him. He gets so incredibly fixated on something that nothing else around him exists. I know it’s one of the things that bothered Dealia. She wanted Cooper to multitask, to focus on more than one thing at a time. But that’s not how his mind works. When he’s set on something, he’s set in stone. I’ve never seen such undivided attention . . . it’s quite captivating, actually.

“I’d take that as an insult if I didn’t know as much as I know about you.”

That makes him sit taller. “What do you know about me?”

I playfully tap my chin. “Well, I know you have a hard time focusing on anything but the task that’s set in your mind. I know you have a tendency to not notice the things around you when you’re zeroed in. And I know that you once jumped into my parents’ pool and lost your swim trunks because you forgot to tie them, and Josie Gregory saw your bare butt.”

“I borrowed Ford’s swim trunks. Big mistake.” He sips his whiskey. “Not sure about the other things, though. I notice what’s going on around me.”

I smile. “Is that so?”

He nods. “Yeah, I’m not as tunnel visioned as you make me out to be.”

“I see.” I bring my beer to my lips. “So, you’re telling me you knew your parents left the bar about three minutes ago?”

“What?” he says, spinning around to find that his parents and their bag are very much gone. “What the actual fuck?”

I chuckle. “Yup, not tunnel visioned at all.”