Page 30 of Ruthless Love

“I wanted to give you a heads-up that I’ve got some guests coming with me to Big Sur this weekend.”

“Guests? As in plural? Did you call to gloat about your two scoops of fun, or are you trying to wheedle me into a double date?”

“Well, I’ve got two scoops of fun, all right, but just with one of them,” Coop says, and his smug comment makes me want to vomit. “But the other one can’t be your date. She’s engaged. And I half expected you to be bringing a plus-one, like Alli is.”

Coop is, of course, referring to him setting me up with Simone, the voluptuous attorney he hooked me up with as a peace offering when he had to bail on our dinner plans. With her insane barrage of questions about Coop’s company, I was too close to slipping back into my old life, half ready to whip out the heat lamp and sodium pentothal. What I gathered was enough for me to deem our one and only date “one date too many.”

“No plus-one for me.” Without intending it, my words come out heavy. Which he mistakes for a longing that comes and goes in tidal waves.

Instantly, Coop picks up on my mood. “No word from Gaby?”

“Not yet.” I flip to the photos on my phone, snagging the one I want and taking a good, long look at the most beautiful girl in the world. “But there’s power in hope.”

“There absolutely is.” A second of silence hangs between us before Coop continues. “Listen, if you’re still coming—”

“I am. I need something to do to keep busy.”

“Then I have this idea, but I’ll need your help. I really want to bring Margot up the coast from the airport in a vintage convertible. Which means a two-seater.”

“So you need a second driver. Who will need an identical vintage convertible,” I say, throwing out the small demand.

“Done.”

“Well, I can’t wait to meet Margot. Especially since Alli’s pretty sure she’s the woman who’s got you scratching your watch and winding your cocky ass.”

“To say that Margot’s that woman isn’t the half of it.”

“So it’s serious? Do I hear a butt tattoo calling?”

“Maybe.” Coop’s practically singing the word, and fuck me, but I think the man’s shopping for a place to get inked as we speak.

“This is news. So, is the other guest her friend or family?”

“A friend I think might be family. If Margot doesn’t kill her. They’ve got a weird as fuck relationship, but I think deep down they’re close. At least, as close as you and I are.”

“Got it. Want to hug you one minute and kick your ass the next. Well, sounds like the rest of the family will be sorry they missed out.”

“As long as they don’t miss out on anything important, like a wedding—”

“Or a tattooing—”

“I’m sure they’ll be fine. And Alli’s already met Evie, so that just leaves you.”

My caution contains itself in a tight knot in my neck. I rub it, unsettled at the coincidence. “Did you say Evie?”

“Her real name is Evelyn. Evelyn Banks. But she prefers to be called—”

“Evie,” we say in unison, though I mutter it quietly under my breath. God forbid, the last thing I need is an inquisition from Coop’s nosy ass.

The decision isn’t hard, and I smooth the scruff along my jaw, ready for what has to be a date with destiny. “Look, Coop, I ... I’m all in. For this weekend.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I just need to wrap up some loose ends at work.”

“Sun and sea. You won’t regret it. See you then.”

I let Coop disconnect our call, and I run with an energy that pulls my smile wide and kicks up my pace. The nagging voice that tells me to stay away is fleeting, but it’s there.

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