“Nope,” said Cooper. “Although the supermarket don’t got no ventilation, so I reckon I might smell a bit funky.”

Peter glanced at Cooper’s sweat stains. If they’d been on the lake he probably would’ve made him wash that T-shirt down at the water’s edge a dozen times over by now. But in these moments, when they were together but not together, distant and outside of each other trying to find a way back in, Cooper’s scent might be the only part of him he could get close to.

Cooper lifted his arm up and took a sniff. “Yup. I honk.”

“Why don’t you put my Dolly Parton one back on? It’s as good as yours now, anyway.”

Cooper tucked his hair back behind his ear and nodded.

“Where is she?” Peter asked.

“In my rucksack still, I guess.”

“I’ll get her for you.”

“No.”

“It’s OK, I don’t mind.”

“I said no.”

Peter winced, shocked by how abrupt that had sounded. And Cooper must’ve realized it too. He set his knife and fork down deliberately as if trying to compose another reaction, a better reaction.

“Why?” Peter asked looking back towards the bedroom. “Is there something in there you don’t want me to find?”

“Don’t be dumb. I just don’t wanna ruin your favourite tee or offend poor Miss Dolly.”

“You wouldn’t ruin it. And I expect she can handle some no-good stinking man.”

“Oh yeah? And what ’bout you? What can you handle?”

“Coop, don’t avoid the—”

“And what can you handle?”

Cooper sat up, at once present and broad inside his chair, with the devil’s twinkle in his eye now his mind was taken over by flirting.

“I dunno,” said Peter. “But Dolly Parton was nobody’s fool. Besides, she only married once.”

“Sounds ’bout right.”

Peter smiled. “Is that so?”

Cooper pretended to draw on a cigar and tipped his chair back so the front legs left the floor.

“I int got no prospects to speak of, Master Peter,” he said, “And your pa will likely have to bail me out of jail on more than one occasion on account of me being a wrongen n’all. But I must confess I want a marry ye.”

“Why, Cooper Donaghue, is that so?”

Cooper blew a trail of hair from his lips. “Reckon so.” He placed both hands behind his head so the hair beneath his armpits poked out beneath the sleeve of his T-shirt, and eased back into the chair yawning. There was a brightness in the depth of his dark eyes that hadn’t been there for what felt like the longest time, and Peter was so relieved to see that he could still inspire those feelings, that the other part of him that knew Cooper was using his wiles to distract him from what he was hiding in the rucksack had no power to take over.