The Newcomer (Thunder Point #2)

The Newcomer (Thunder Point #2)
Robyn Carr


One

It was a warm, sunny afternoon in early April, a rarity on the Oregon coast at this time of year. The frequent spring rainstorms meant that the beautiful wildflowers—the best in the country—were on their way. Hank Cooper sat out on the deck of Ben & Cooper’s Bar in his white T-shirt and jeans, his feet propped up on the deck rail. Hamlet, Sarah’s harlequin Great Dane, sat beside him, watching the sea, his ears perking up when a person, a boat or bird caught his eye. Cooper was enjoying a heavily creamed coffee and watching his lovely Sarah Dupre paddleboarding out on the bay. She wore the wet suit—short sleeves, knee-length—he’d given her for Christmas. It kept her warm even though the water hadn’t warmed up yet; it was icy cold. The Pacific was always cold, except maybe down San Diego way. But Sarah was an expert; she rarely got her feet wet.

The way that wet suit hugged her body—it was like art. She had incredibly strong legs, a perfect round tush, br**sts about the size of his palms. She’d been born in a coastal town and was probably as comfortable on the water as she was on the land or in the sky—diver, swimmer, surfer, helicopter pilot.

Cooper and Ham had been watching Sarah for an hour; she’d gone all the way out to the mouth of the bay and back. She was finally coming in, just ahead of the fishing boats headed home to the marina.

This life was the furthest thing from what Cooper had ever envisioned for himself. He had come to Thunder Point last October to look into the death of a good friend, Ben Bailey. To his surprise he had inherited what was Ben’s falling-down bait shop and bar. For lack of a better idea he renovated the place, turning it into a first-class beach bar, and had found himself a new home. He also found a woman in Thunder Point, another surprise he hadn’t been looking for. After all the women in his life, short- or long-term, Sarah was everything he’d been waiting for.

He had officially opened the beach bar—minus the bait—in late February. Now, as the proprietor, there was plenty of time to visit with folks from town, let the gentle lapping of the bay soothe him, watch his woman on her board, gently gliding across the calm water between the huge offshore boulders in the bay. Cooper had a farmer’s tan, stronger shoulders from lifting and hauling bar supplies and a lot of new friends when he’d always considered himself a solitary kind of guy.

Sarah leaned her board and paddle against the dock and came up the stairs. When she reached the deck, Cooper tossed her a towel and she dried off her feet, glad of the warm sunshine.

“What have you been up to?” Sarah asked.

“Absolutely nothing. Just watching my mermaid.”

She laughed. “Did Hamlet behave himself?” Hearing his name, the huge dog got up and walked over to Sarah.

Cooper nodded. “He said he’d prefer to live here, with me.”

“Did he now?” she asked with a laugh, giving Ham a gentle pat. “Get your own dog.”

“There isn’t room for another dog around here. Come here,” Cooper said, pulling her onto his lap.

She went to him, sat down, picked up his coffee and helped herself to a sip.

“Want me to make you a hot cup?” he asked. “You cold?”

She shook her head. “It’s nice out there. Breeze gets a little chilly sometimes, but the sun is so wonderful. You start to crave sun around here after all the winter rains and winds.”

Her cell phone rang. She’d left it on the deck with Cooper when she took her board out. She picked it up and looked at the caller ID then said, “Yes, little brother?” She listened intently and then laughed. “I’m at Cooper’s. I just took my board out—the bay is beautiful. I have the Razor and the dog. Then yes, have fun and I’ll see you later.”

She clicked off.

“How many times a day do you talk to Landon?” Cooper asked. Sarah and sixteen-year-old Landon were a family of two and they kept pretty tight tabs on each other. And with Sarah being a Coast Guard search-and-rescue pilot who worked out of the North Bend station, sometimes it wasn’t easy.

“As many as it takes. Now that he’s dating Deputy Yummy Pants’s daughter, I don’t worry so much. Well, I worry that Mac might shoot him if he gets too frisky with Eve, but I figure that’s a long shot, forgive the pun. I think we check in three or four times a day.”

“At least,” Cooper said. “Did I interpret that last call to mean you’re now free for dinner?”

She grinned at him. “Is the chef preparing something special?”

“It won’t be busy here tonight, at least after seven—it’s a weeknight and by then the sunset will be over. I have some steaks in the freezer, potatoes in the cooler....”

“Do you have anything green?” she asked.

Cooper’s bar menu was based on deli items purchased from Carrie’s deli in town—simple things from pizzas to sandwiches as well as some desserts, things that could be served cold or warmed. His place was not a restaurant per se. Cooper bought himself a grill for his own use, but it was never used to prepare food for the patrons.

Cooper had also inherited a helper, Rawley Goode, a Vietnam vet who was not overly comfortable dealing with the public. While he was a good cook, he was needed for other things—maintenance, cleaning, running errands to the big box stores like Costco. Cooper had to admit that between Rawley and himself personal groceries were often in short supply.