Tidal by Emily Snow Page B

given me took us to a
    homeless shelter for women and children
    —but he sure as hell was right about the
    shoes. While I found out that I wasn’t
    scheduled to do any community service
    today, Dave, my boss, took me on a two
    hour orientation of the shelter. By the time
    we went through our third rotation of the
    grounds, I was caught between wanting
    desperately to kick off my shoes and
    wondering if Cooper had given up on me
    and gone home.
    I hoped not because I’d stupidly left
    my bag and phone sitting on the front seat
    of his Jeep.
    “So do you think you’ve got a grasp on
    what you’ll be doing?” Dave asked.
    I nodded. “Kitchen duties.” Cleaning,
    serving, and helping unload deliveries, to
    be exact. I glanced around the massive
    dining room one final time as we shuffled
    through it. To be honest, it reminded me of
    the one at my court-ordered rehab—
    bleach-scented, with three rows of plain,
    scuffed wooden tables and chairs, and a
    kitchen with a serving window at the front
    of the room.
    Thinking of rehab brought a swell of
    hysteria into my throat, but I gulped it back
    because of the group of kids huddled at the
    end of the table at the other side of the
    room. They were staring at Dave and me,
    whispering loudly, and I gave a tiny wave
    in their direction.
    “It seems you have fans,” Dave said,
    as we left the large room. The sound of
    excited giggling followed us. “We’ve got
    quite a few of your older movies on
    DVD.”
    Back before you turned into just
    another party girl, I added for him.
    “It’s the first time I’ve been
    recognized since coming here,” I admitted.
    He belly laughed, and walked me
    outside to the front of the building.
    Cooper’s Jeep was still parked across the
    street, thank God. “With your movie about
    to start, I’m sure you’ll be recognized
    everywhere you turn,” Dave said.
    I knew he didn’t mean anything by it,
    but my muscles went rigid anyway. “I
    can’t wait,” I said in a voice that was
    detached. Robotic.
    “Do you have any idea when you’ll be
    able to begin working at Harmony
    House?” Dave asked.
    “Monday,” I answered quickly. I
    wanted to knock out my community
    service as quickly as possible. And I
    wanted something to focus my attention on
    other than surfing and work and being
    alone. “I’ll have my bodyguard drop me
    off after work.”
    He looked pleased with my response.
    Pumping my hand in his, he said, “We’ll
    see you then.” As I walked to the edge of
    the sidewalk, he cleared his throat. I
    turned, shifting one of my eyebrows up.
    “You should probably wear . . . work
    clothes.”
    I nodded my understanding. “I will.”
    When I got into Cooper’s Jeep he cast me
    a questioning look. “How do your feet
    feel, Wills?”
    “Like I could paddleboard all day,
    Billabong.”
    A grin crept its way across his face,
    and his shoulders shook slightly. “Nice,
    but I’m cancelling the lesson for today.”
    “What—why?”
    He raked his hand across his chest,
    ruffling the front of the gray Alternative
    Apparel shirt he wore. “Because I’ve
    been thinking about you too much.”
    “You’re getting paid to train me,” I
    pointed out.
    He paid attention to merging onto the
    highway, and the Incubus song playing on
    the radio. I crossed my arms over my
    chest because I was more interested in
    hearing what Cooper had to say than listen
    to Brandon Boyd sing about picturing
    someone’s face in the back of his mind.
    The lyrics were way too close to my own
    dilemma with the guy sitting beside me.
    When the song ended, and a commercial
    for a night club replaced it, Cooper
    sighed.
    “There’s a forty year old cougar
    paying me to train her and I don’t give her
    a second thought after our lessons,” he
    told me.
    “Cooper, I—”
    “I’m not going to beg you to be with
    me, Wills. I’m not going to chase you or
    do any of that. But just know that I want
    you, and before you say it—fuck the rule.”
    He