LITMIR.BIZ

      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, breasts 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

Скачать книгу