Sunrise Point (Virgin River #19)(41)

But there was no way for Coop to prepare himself for the new Luke, or his wife.

When these two men had met some fifteen years ago or so, Coop was a kid of twenty-three and Luke was a few years older and a helicopter instructor who was just coming off a really bad marriage. When Luke got back from Somalia he’d found his wife pregnant with another man’s child. And not just any other guy, but an officer in Luke’s command. It screwed Luke up so bad, it was legend. Almost as big a legend as Coop’s brush with disaster over a woman. But at least Coop hadn’t married her. He’d merely gone to jail over her.

To say they had been a scrappy pair was putting it mildly.

And here was Luke now, a changed man. Or rather, a man changing a diaper! That was a sight Coop never expected to see. Oh, Coop had married friends here and there, but not this domesticated. And when Luke’s young knockout of a wife got home from work, Coop almost passed out. Luke had said she was young; he had failed to mention she wasn’t quite thirty years old and a stunner.

“You dirty old man, you,” Coop said with a very large grin. “Where did you find this beauty?”

“Right here, my man,” Luke replied. “Twenty-five years old and ripe for the picking.”

“I thought you’d sworn off.”

“Yeah, so much for big proclamations. The minute I saw her—”

Luke was cut off by the ripple of laughter coming from his wife, Shelby. “He’s such a liar,” she said. “He fought me every step of the way.”

But Coop found this new Luke fascinating. In addition to a pretty young wife and rambunctious little kid whom he clearly adored, Luke was also the guardian to a loveable man in his thirties who had Down Syndrome—Art. While Art set the table, Luke served his wife a glass of wine and turned steaks on the grill. Brett drove his miniature quad around in the yard and the catching up on old times commenced. Then through dinner, there was more of the same. And after Brett was tucked in for the night, Luke lit a fire in the pit in front of the porch.

“What were you and Luke like in the good old days?” Shelby asked. “When you first became friends?”

Coop laughed, a tinge of embarrassment included. He was grateful Shelby wouldn’t be able to see the slight stain on his cheeks. “Nothing like this,” he said. “I was just a kid, that’s my excuse. But you wouldn’t have liked us much, I’m pretty sure. We drank too much, drove too fast, got in the occasional fight when we took a break from chasing women.”

“I have no trouble seeing Luke as a womanizer,” Shelby said.

“Yeah, he wasn’t that slick with women,” Coop told her. “One hit him over the head with a beer pitcher once. I never did find out what his offense was.”

“Breathing,” Luke muttered. “I was coming off a bad relationship. I might’ve been a little bitter… .”

Coop let go a big laugh. “Ya think? At least you never went to jail!”

Shelby sat up straighter and faced Coop. “What did you do?”

“Turned out I did nothing, but since I was passed out, I wasn’t much good in my own defense.”

“Passed out with bruised knuckles…” Luke contributed.

“Yeah, that’s the missing link, I guess. I have no idea how that happened, but there was a time I had a bad habit of losing my cool and punching a door or a wall, because, that’s how intelligent I was back then. It took a few years to occur to me that didn’t hurt anyone but me.”

“But how did you end up in jail?”

“I had this girlfriend—Imogene. She wasn’t a very good girlfriend to start with—extremely high maintenance. But beautiful, very beautiful, with a body you wouldn’t believe. She was a waitress at a dive right off Ft. Benning. I used to ask her all the time why she didn’t look for more upscale work and she said military men were the best tippers. Especially the ones who couldn’t afford it. Hopeful, that’s what I think they were—hoping for a grope or at least a phone number. We were on and off, like oil and water. But one night when we were ‘off’ I’d had an unfortunate amount to drink and passed out, Imogene got knocked around. So, she called this ass**le marine she knew from the bar, cried for him and told him her boyfriend beat her up. Fifteen years after the fact, I think she was looking for more than sympathy from the guy.”

“But you didn’t, did you?” Shelby asked. “Hit her?”

He shook his head. “I still can’t remember what happened to my hand, but no one turned up hurt or dead. No complaints from a door or wall. For a terrible few days I hoped to God I’d never hit a woman. I had a lot of flaws, but that wasn’t one of them. Even I had my limits—I’d never do something that low. And I’d only hit a man who made me. But this ass**le marine called the MP’s and they threw me in jail with a promise of Leavenworth. There are two things in the military that guarantee arrest and jail time—DUI and battery domestic.”

“I guess you got out of it,” Shelby said.

“Not fast. I was in the brig, court marshal pending when a couple of my boys from Airborne training rounded up a few witnesses who said a customer got rough with her at the bar. She was pissed at me for not being there to defend her, or being there and not able to defend her. And I think she had her eye on the marine.” He laughed sardonically. “He shipped out while I was still in the brig, so that didn’t work out for her, I guess.”