"Listen, Cooper..." The wide tree screened them from the audience and mayor's people on the gazebo. "I know you think you are the answer to every woman's prayer in this town, but allow me to be blunt and say I will never make the mistake of getting into your bed again. And for me to like you, you'd have to get a brain transplant, as in an entirely new and palatable personality, because what you are now is insufferable."

He scratched his chin, a wry, half-grin on his face. "What, you think I should get a lobotomy? Sounds about right. No one's opinions are worth more than yours, are they? No matter what, you are always right."

"Out of curiosity, did you hope to start impressing the judges just by showing up today? Is that your secret, superpower? The ability to look like a decent human being when you are actually deceiving people?"

"My superpower is the ability to keep a smile on my face, despite the people around me. And you?" he asked.

"Oh, honey, I have come out alive and on top of every encounter I've ever had with you. No small feat, considering your penchant for playing dirty." She jabbed a finger at his chest, but he didn't even blink.

"And yet, you came running to me last Christmas."

"To my eternal shame. Then again, I went running the other direction when I realized you were still you after all these years." She forced herself to keep eye contact. This close she could make out the golden flecks in his eyes, individual strands of hair, and the fine laugh lines in his cheeks.

He smirked, shaking his head. "You were hoping I'd been lobotomized?"

"I was hoping you had matured since graduating from high school. I was also hoping for a good time. But you left me terribly disappointed."

"You expected me to come at your beck and call like a cocker spaniel. And, as I recall, you were starting to have a pretty good time. You wanted a rebound fling. I was there to give you a rebound fling. You wanted..." His voice trailed off, his eyes glancing downwards. They stayed there, zeroed in on her breasts.

Apparently, Cooper thought she was here today for his viewing pleasure.

Anger flash flooded her body. She took a deep breath, ready to flay him alive when he took her chin in his hand.

"Don't look down right now," he said. "Sandra, look at me and nowhere else."

She froze at the warning in his tone. Something was wrong. Her anger dissipated, leaving her cold. No matter what a pain in the ass he could be, he would also throw himself in front of moving car to save another person. Even her. "Why?"

"Don't look down, no matter what. Do you understand?"

"Don't look down? What the hell? Is it a—" She squeezed her eyes shut. Her muscles clenched, her chest tightened. Heart lodged in her throat, she tried to breathe, but could only get a sliver of air. "Cooper, tell me it isn't a spider."

***

Fibbing wasn't one of Cooper's strengths. He considered himself to be a straight shooter, although he could maneuver his way out of uncomfortable situations with partial truths.

But with Sandra gasping and trembling in his arms, it wasn't the time for mind games.

"Eyes on me." He swallowed. "As for what's wrong, you should know by now I'd never lie to you. Hold very still."

"It is a spider. Get it off me," she said, voice squeaking. "Just hit it off!"

"The spider happens to be on your left breast. I'm not going to hit it off." It had to be the biggest wolf spider he'd ever seen. Not deadly, but any bites would swell and hurt, and it was in between the ruffles of her shirt. Flicking wouldn't be wise.

He cupped his free hand, descending slowly.

She made a keening whimper through her clenched jaw. Sweat glistened on her forehead and her chest heaved for air, which didn't make his task any easier. He'd never witnessed her arachnophobia up close. His movements were also hampered by the death grip she had on his biceps, confined to the small space between their bodies. His muscles bunched hard in response to her nails.

"Try not to tear my arms off," Cooper said through clenched teeth.

She peeked out from narrowed eyelids. "This isn't a prank, is it?"

"Sandra, the treaty still stands. Call Holy Hot Tamales for a truce, or simply look down if you need to."

There was a beat of silence and she shook her head. "No, I believe you. Is it a big one? Is it hairy?"

"It's tiny. The size of a pencil eraser. And no hair. Ignore what my hand is doing and try to think about your next vacation on the beach."

Electric tingles flickered to life in his fingertips at the silk of her shirt when his fingers began to curl. He was only touching her shirt but could have been on her bare skin for the way the muscles in his abdomen clenched. He had to keep calm. Somehow.

Her nipple hardened under his palm. And he hardened in response. His mind knew this was not the time, but his body had other ideas. Every single part of her that was touching him—thighs brushing his, the edge of her hip, her hands on his arms, and the nub of her nipple—lit up his nerves and sent his blood racing. In the wrong direction.

Focus, Cooper.

The change in Sandra was rougher than whiplash. When he had seen her at the back of the audience, he wanted to reach out and see if she had softened since the fiasco of their almost-fling. The answer had been a swift, hard no, and he'd regretted speaking to her. Then the spider had crawled out from nowhere, and she was falling apart in his arms.

He held his breath, his hand on her breast. And he wanted to do so much more than save her from a spider.

***Is it hot in this gazebo, or is it just me? Hit the star if you enjoyed reading!***

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