Falling Like Leaves (Bramble Falls, #1)(19)

“Nothing to be sorry for,” I say, trying to smile through the pain.

“Harley, get over here,” Dorothy calls.

Harley comes barreling over, and Dorothy makes him apologize, even though he clearly has no idea what he did wrong.

“I think we ought to head back and get some ice on that ankle,” Dorothy says.

Without warning, Harley jumps on Cooper’s back, climbing him like he climbed the apple tree.

“Nope,” Cooper says, unwrapping Harley’s arms from around him. Harley’s feet drop to the ground. “It’s Ellis’s turn. Can you lead the way, though? I don’t think I know how to get back.”

“What are you talking about? I’m not getting on your shoulders,” I say.

“You can’t walk all the way back on that ankle,” he says. “I’ll carry you on my back.”

“Isn’t there, like, a golf cart we can use or something?”

Cooper stares at me.

“Fine,” I grumble. “But that’s a long way for you to carry me.”

“I’ll be just fine,” he says, kneeling down.

I limp over and set my hands on his shoulders as he reaches back and scoops his hands under my thighs and stands effortlessly.

“Are you going to be okay, Dorothy?” I ask.

“I’m not as spry as I once was, but I’m not bedridden yet, honey. Didn’t I tell you about my daily walks with my girls?”

“Okay, point taken,” I laugh. “But the ground is uneven, like you said, so please be careful.”

Cooper walks slowly in the direction of the orchard shop, trying not to outpace Dorothy, while Harley runs figure eights around trees.

“Doesn’t he ever get tired?” I ask Dorothy.

“Oh no. He’s like the Energizer Bunny,” she says. “In fact, it seems the more he does, the more energy he has, like the activity charges his internal battery.”

Harley runs by with his arms spread wide, pretending to be an airplane, and I try not to think about Cooper’s muscles beneath my palms. Or how he smells like sugar and citrus and laundry detergent. Or the heat radiating from him, warming me from the inside out.

Instead I try to focus on my throbbing ankle. Because I can’t be attracted to a guy who wants nothing to do with me. A guy I’ll likely never see again after I leave Bramble Falls.

“You know,” I say to Cooper, “the last time I was here, I was the one giving you a piggyback ride.”

Cooper laughs. “Don’t remind me.”

“Oh, but I’m going to. You’d just jumped off the floating dock at the lake…”

“Ellis, come on,” he whines, but I can hear his smile.

“And you burst out of the water crying.”

“I had a rusty fish hook in my toe!” he exclaims.

“Yeah, but I didn’t have to carry you because of the injury. You ended up on my back because you were sobbing so hard about the possibility of getting tetanus.”

“A legitimate concern,” he says in his own defense.

“The hook barely broke your skin. You didn’t even bleed,” I laugh. “There was no reason you couldn’t have walked.”

“Did you go to the doctor?” Dorothy asks, reminding me that we’re not alone.

“Don’t, Ellis,” Cooper says quickly.

“Three times!” I say, cracking up. “He went three times that week because he said the doctor was wrong. He was convinced he was dying.”

Dorothy laughs with me, and Cooper squeezes my thighs, making my insides crackle and hiss like a blazing fire.

“Yeah, yeah,” he chuckles. He shakes his head. “I hate you.”

The sentiment snaps me right back to reality. He can’t see me, but I nod, my smile faltering and my voice becoming quiet. “Yeah, I know.” And I can’t stand it, despite trying to convince myself I don’t care.

Once we’re out of the field, Dorothy and I wait in the parking lot with Harley while Cooper goes inside to get a bag of apples for them to take home since apple-picking didn’t go as planned.

“Dorothy, it was so nice meeting you,” I say as Cooper gives her the free apples.

“It was lovely meeting you, too,” she tells me.

Dorothy wrangles her grandson into the car, and they drive off. Cooper carries me inside, toward a hallway at the back, and sets me down in a small employee break room.

“Sit.” He nods at a chair. “I’ll be right back.”

“O-kay…”

Cooper returns five minutes later carrying a first aid kit and an ice pack wrapped in a thin towel. He sits in a chair across from me, scoots close, and pats his leg, nodding at my foot.

I reluctantly lift it, and he takes it in his hands, slipping off my boot and dropping it onto the floor. He pushes up my pant leg, and I shiver when his soft fingertips graze my leg.

“I can do this myself,” I tell him.

He looks up through his thick lashes, giving me a look that says, Shut up.

I look away because those hypnotizing eyes might kill me otherwise.

“Where does it hurt?” he asks.

I touch the outside of my ankle. He nods and places the ice pack on it, holding it as he clears his throat.

“I’m sorry,” he says.