Page 10 of One-of-a-Kind Bride (Home to Texas #1)

“I don’t know, Taye. You and Coop have so much history together.”

She shook her head. “It would never work. Besides, I think he barely tolerates me.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.”

Taylor peered out the window and saw Coop on bended knee speaking with his daughter, thoroughly engaging her in conversation.

Taylor couldn’t hear what he was saying, but there was no mistaking the love between the two of them or the hero worship in Cassie’s eyes.

Coop was meant to be a father, and she had no doubt he was a very good one.

“You can’t take your eyes off of him,” Julie said.

She gave her cousin a withering look. Was she serious? “Julie, do you want me to march my way back to New York on foot?”

“You know I don’t want you to leave. Ever.”

Taylor shrugged. “You’re impossible.”

“But you love me.”

“Like a bratty older sister.”

“I’m only older by two months.”

“And I never let you forget it.”

*

Coop had mixed feelings about tearing down the gazebo.

It held some really good memories for him.

He’d spent a lot of time in this backyard, playing with the girls.

They’d been a threesome, until one day in his seventeenth year it dawned on him that waiting for summer to arrive hadn’t just meant no school or homework or getting up early.

It meant Taylor. Seeing her after a long separation, being with her during those hot, sultry Texas evenings, holding her hand, kissing her.

He’d fallen hard for her, his heart open and bursting with love.

It pained him that he’d had to work with his dad part-time that last summer, but it only resulted in his time with Taylor being more precious, more valuable. And they’d made every second count.

Now, his crew was ripping down that part of his past and hauling it away.

“Cassie, you be careful with that. Those planks have nails in them,” he called to her as she struggled with a partially full wheelbarrow.

“Okay, Daddy,” she called back.

He couldn’t resist smiling. She was determined, and strong, the beautiful result of the powerful love he had with Francine.

Her memory, her spirit was always with him, reminding him how fragile life was.

How one moment, he was doing something as mundane as deciding what to have for dinner, chicken or pork chops, and the next, a horrendous car crash takes her life.

Francine had been vital and young and she hadn’t deserved what happened to her.

Her death was a shock, a blow that destroyed him.

It had been his fault and he would always live with that guilt.

After Francine passed away in the hospital, he’d had to break the news to Cassie.

He’d had to tell her the unfair news that her mommy hadn’t survived the accident.

She’d hung on for days but she just didn’t have any strength left.

He’d had to tell his little girl her mommy wasn’t going to tuck her in at night.

She wouldn’t be there for any more dinners, or baseball games, or school concerts.

She wouldn’t be there to see her graduate from college or see her walk down the aisle at her wedding.

It was a robbery, a cruel crime of events Coop had trouble dealing with, all the while trying to pretend to his daughter everything was going to be all right.

“Hey, boss,” Toby said, walking over holding something in his hand. “I found something in the gazebo remains. You might want to take a look at it.”

Coop came out of his thoughts to focus on what Toby was saying. “What’s that?”

“It’s a box of some sort, though it’s pretty beat-up. Looks like it’s handmade.”

Coop immediately recognized the box. It was the one he’d built for Taylor after that summer they’d made up the promise game.

It was supposed to be Taylor’s treasure box, but they’d found it served a better purpose holding their yearly promises to each other.

Those promises had been their treasures.

They’d bonded them through the years. Julie had never wanted to participate in their game, and that’d been fine with them.

Coop had crafted the box in his father’s barn, home of Cooper Construction, and had etched their initials into the oak, TP and RC, and then stained it a walnut brown.

It had been a source of pride to him and something just between him and Taylor.

Coop stared at it for a few seconds before Toby handed it over.

“Do you know what it is?” Toby asked.

“Yeah, I do. Did you open it?”

“No, sir.”

“Fine. I’ll take care of it. I know…who it belongs to. Thanks.”

“Sure thing.”

Toby walked off and Coop was left standing there, holding the box in his gloved hands.

He’d wait all year long for summer to come, to see Taylor and compare their promises.

Neither one of them had ever failed to keep their promise to each other.

Coop loved the competition it represented, but it was more for Taylor.

She was a staunch believer in keeping her promises.

It was ingrained in her and to his knowledge, she’d never broken one.

But he’d forgotten about the box, putting it out of his mind over the years. It seemed like a lifetime ago now, twelve long years and countless events had happened since.

Cassie walked up, her gaze fixed on what he held in his hand. “What’s that, Daddy?”

“Oh, uh, nothing. It’s just an old box. It got dug up with the gazebo.”

“Really? Can I see it?”

“Uh, sure. But don’t open it.” He handed it over carefully.

“Why not?” Cassie asked.

Because I don’t want to see what’s in it.

Because it had once meant a lot to me.

And because, if it was empty he wouldn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

“It’s not yours to open, Cassie. Remember how we respect other people’s property.”

“Okay,” she said, disappointed. She turned the box over and inspected all sides, then handed it back to him. “It’s just an old box anyway.”

“Right,” he said. “Hey, we’re finishing up out here. Why don’t you clean up and let Taylor know you’re ready for her?”

“Daddy?”

“Yeah, Cass?”

“What’s Taylor’s last name?”

“Preston, why?”

She glanced at the box again, noting the carved initials, and smiled. “No reason.”

Grimacing, he scratched the back of his neck as Cassie walked into the house. Sometimes, his daughter was just too doggone astute for an eight-year-old.

Coop marched over to his truck and set the box inside the glove compartment. He’d decide what to do with it later. Taylor had a right to it, but he wasn’t ready to hand the box over.

He wasn’t ready to lose one more thing from his past.

Not just yet.

*

Taylor set out her sewing box in the parlor, then grabbed her tape measure and notepad.

She could make Cassie’s flower girl dress with her eyes closed, but it’d been a while.

The last time she’d designed a child’s dress had been for Simone’s little sis who’d needed something special for her solo piano performance.

As Taylor recalled, the dress and the recital had been a hit.

And now, here she was, years later, making one for Coop’s eight-year-old daughter.

This one would have to be just as special for Julie’s wedding.

Cassie entered the room and parked herself right smack in the middle of the parlor.

“Are you ready?” Taylor asked.

The girl gazed at the sewing supplies curiously and nodded.

“Okay then, in order for me to make you the perfect dress, I need to take your measurements, so the dress fits you just right. But first of all, we need to take the hard hat off.” Though she looked adorable in it, the hat was a distraction.

The little girl stood steady as a rock, like a frozen statue.

“And second of all, you can breathe, Cassie. Actually, you must breathe.”

Cassie giggled and her smile came out, all toothy and sweet.

Taylor smiled too. “Do you like working with your dad?”

Cassie nodded. “I get to if I get good grades and do all my homework.”

“That seems fair.”

“I’m saving up for a new baseball mitt. Daddy’s going to pay for half and I’ll pay for half. I should have enough by next week.”

“Well, that’s coming up pretty soon. I bet you’re excited.”

Cassie lowered her voice. “I am, but I’d work for Daddy even if he didn’t pay me. It’s fun.”

“Okay, I won’t tell.”

Cassie grinned and Taylor saw so much of Coop in his daughter—the mischievous glow in her eyes and her rock-solid determination. “Thanks.”

“Okay, here we go.” Taylor lifted the hard hat off her head and set it on the sofa. She sat on her knees to get to Cassie’s level, raised Cassie’s arm, and used her battered but trusty measuring tape. “Let’s see this great throwing arm I’m hearing so much about.”

“I’m a leftie,” Cassie said.

“Is that so?” Taylor jotted down the length and then measured her other arm.

“It’s a good thing. Coach says lefties have an advantage if they pitch. It sorta messes up the batters. Everything is backward. And Coach says he’ll teach me how when I’m older.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed that about lefties. I don’t know a lot about baseball.” She measured her shoulder width.

“You don’t?”

Taylor shook her head. “Back home, in the city, I never had the time to learn. Would you believe I’ve never been to a baseball game?”

“Never?” Cassie’s eyes opened wide, as if that was inconceivable.

“I’m afraid so.” Taylor took measurements around her waist and then from her waist to her knees.