Falling Like Leaves (Bramble Falls, #1)(71)

Mom takes a deep breath. “Okay, go. Be back by ten. Text if you need me to come get you.”

“Good luck, honey,” Aunt Naomi says.

“If he tries to tell you Jake is more important, tell him to remember that I know how to get rid of a body,” Sloane says.

I grab a jacket and head a few blocks over to Cooper’s house. I’m about to knock on the front door when the garage door opens.

Cooper walks out and spots me. We stand there staring at each other for a moment.

“Did you talk to Jake?” I ask, like I’m tearing off a Band-Aid.

“Yeah.” He gestures to the garage. “Come.”

I huff out a breath. Not knowing where things stand between us is killing me. He grabs a bag that was sitting in the driveway, and I follow him into the garage, where his truck is parked.

He hits a button on the wall, and the garage door lowers. As soon as it’s closed, Cooper strides over, lifts my chin between his thumb and forefinger, and kisses me.

“We’ve only kissed in the dark wilderness,” he says. “I had to fix that.”

I look at him through my lashes. “No complaints here.”

He grins at me, but it’s hard to reciprocate when I don’t know what’s going on.

“Does this mean things are okay with Jake?” I ask.

He sighs. “They’re as good as can be expected, I think.” I wilt. “But I think we’ll be okay. Eventually.”

“What’d he say?” I ask.

“Just that I should have told him I liked you, which… he’s not wrong.” He runs his hand through his hair, leaving it disheveled. “And that I should have told him when I was even considering acting on how I was feeling, which, again, he’s not wrong. I messed up.”

“It was a complicated situation.”

“All I had to do was be honest. That part wasn’t complicated.” He turns and leans against his truck. “But since you apparently had a talk with him already, it helped that he knew who you were to me years ago.”

“So… what about us?” I ask.

He draws his eyebrows together. “What about us?”

I look at the floor. “I don’t know. I mean, Jake was a big concern of yours from the start. If he’s upset…”

Cooper pushes off the truck and stands in front of me. He tucks my hair behind my ear, then gently lifts my chin so I’m looking at him. “I already told you I’m not letting you leave without trying to see what this could be.”

“Okay, but—”

He puts his finger over my lips. “Stop. Jake will be fine. Jake and I will be fine.”

I nod, and he moves his finger. “Now, I told you to come over for a reason.”

“A reason other than ending my panic attack?”

“Yes.” He points to plastic bags lining the wall. “I went to the store today and bought, well, everything.”

“For…?”

“For the parade. We’re transforming the truck, right?”

“Oh. Yeah. Okay.”

“But I have no idea what I’m doing,” he says.

I walk over to the bags and start pulling stuff out, checking what he bought.

“All right, well, I’ve never made a float, but I do like designing fun stuff,” I say.

“Exactly. I need that creative eye of yours.”

“I think our best bet is going to be to wrap the whole truck in this green floral sheeting,” I say, picking up a package from the floor. “So, let’s do that—then we can wrap the foil fringe and vinyl twist around the bottom of the frame.”

Cooper stares at me. “You lost me at ‘floral sheeting.’?”

I roll my eyes and grin at his befuddled expression. “Okay, you just stand there and hand me the tools.”

“And look pretty?”

“Exactly.”

I tear open the sheeting. “Typically, I’d say we should use a staple gun to secure this, but that won’t work on metal. Do you have any heavy-duty double-sided tape maybe?”

“I didn’t buy any, but we might have some in the house. Be right back.”

Cooper runs in to get the tape, and I lay out the silver fringe around the truck. When he comes out with a new roll, we get the truck wrapped in the floral sheeting. Then we wrap the base of the truck in the silver foil fringe. Once we finish, the truck is well on its way to being transformed into a parade float.

“Now what?” Cooper asks.

“I’m not sure. I’d love to make it whimsical and fun, but…” I gasp, my eyes widening with an idea. “Oh snap. I got it.” I start tearing the fringe off the truck.

“What are you doing?” he asks. “We literally just finished that.”

“Get the brown foil fringe from over there instead.”

“Yes, boss,” he says, but he looks skeptical.

We get the brown fringe on instead. Then we stand back.

“Okay,” I say, waving my hands at the truck, “The brown is the dirt path, the green is the grass, where—drumroll, please—” Cooper grins and shakes his head but indulges me, drumming his hands on his thighs—“the gingerbread house sits, covered in baked goods. Oversized, fake, giant ones, of course.”