Free The Wanderer by Robyn Carr

beach, he’s a senior. Team captain. He was counting on three things this year—being all-conference, being homecoming king and getting laid by every cheerleader in Coos County.”
    Cooper had a strange reaction to that. First of all, being the new kid felt all too familiar to him. Getting in fights, though long ago, was fiercely memorable. Homecoming king—not Cooper! And cheerleaders? When he was in high school, he hadn’t been lucky enough to even date one, let alone anything more. He thought about Mac’s daughter, whom he’d met when he’d had dinner with the McCains a few nights ago. Eve was a lovely, virginal, delightful sixteen-year-old cheerleader who no one should be allowed to touch. Just to be ornery, he asked, “How many of those things are you going to rack up?”
    The kid looked at him incredulously. “Seriously? Like I could ever get all-conference or get a date. Come on.”
    “The kid who shoved you—who is he?”
    A bitter laugh. “Jag Morrison. Crown prince of Thunder Point. And yes, that’s short for Jaguar, if you can believe anyone would name their kid that.”
    “Shew,” Cooper said, shaking his head.
    “Yeah.”
    Cooper let that settle a little bit. Obviously there was some very bad blood there. It could be about anything—about this kid being a better ball player, about a girl, about anything. Finally Cooper asked, “Your dog have a name, kid?”
    He laughed without humor. “Are you ready for it? Hamlet. It’s Danish.”
    “You could use a tougher dog.”
    “Tell me about it,” he said.
    “How about you? Name?”
    “How about you? ” he shot back.
    “Sorry,” he said, putting out his hand. “Hank Cooper. People just call me Cooper.”
    The kid relaxed a little. “Landon Dupre.” He shot a glance at the teenagers on the beach, who were not going anywhere. It occurred to Cooper that they were looking for a second chance at bullying and intimidating Landon.
    “Nice to meet you, Landon. So, what do your parents have to say about this new-kid issue you’ve got going on?”
    “I don’t have parents.”
    “Ah. So who do you report to?”
    “Report to?” he mimicked with a mean laugh. “Gimme a break.”
    “Look, I’m trying to figure out, in the nicest possible way, if your parents back you up, if you’re a street urchin, in foster care or just plain contrary.”
    “I live with my sister,” he said. His voice dropped, as did his chin. It was either a measure of respect or misery.
    “Ah, the girl in the red slicker.”
    Landon looked up at him. “You know her?”
    “I know the dog—she’s had him out on the beach a couple of times. He’s hard to miss, big as a horse.”
    “And dumb as a stump.”
    “Now, you shouldn’t put him down like that,” Cooper said. “You might damage his self-esteem.” Then grinned at the kid. “Why’d you get him?”
    “My sister got him for me. He was a rescue—his owner had to deploy. It was her idea of some kind of consolation prize because she moved me right before my best season ever.”
    The dog was back, dropping the ball, sitting expectantly, saliva running out of his jowls. “Hamlet, here, he has a drooling issue.”
    “It’s horrible. I don’t know what was wrong with a good old German shepherd.”
    Cooper laughed in spite of himself, happy he was not this kid’s guardian. “Why’d you move here?”
    “Divorce.”
    “You’re divorced?” Cooper asked facetiously.
    Landon’s head snapped around at Cooper and, seeing his smile, melted a little bit. “ She got divorced, couldn’t afford so much house, wanted a smaller town so she could keep track of me better—which I so appreciate, if you can understand. And she didn’t enjoy running into the ex. Now I get that, but really, do we have to move to Podunk, Oregon, where the natives just want to kick the shit out of me every day? Seriously?”
    “Have you told her?” Cooper asked. He almost looked over his shoulder to see who was talking. This was the