Page 41 of Ruthless Love

I’m ready to hear the man out because he’s got a lot to say, but he stops cold. No doubt, he’d feel every ounce of the pain he’d unleash if he brought up my family.

The cheating and lies that shredded my family strengthened the bond between Coop and me. He’ll never see it that way, but I do. And I don’t exactly live for my cousin’s approval, but I’d never disappoint him like that. Our matching tattoos say as much.

But I can’t divulge the reason Evie and I are close, so I do what I do best. Improvise with a heavy dose of mostly the truth.

“We were talking,” I say, rushing past the repeated cuddles that occurred through the night or that she’s planning to break off her engagement. Instead, I speed through an explanation, adding just enough exaggeration for effect. “Well, she was talking. Then she was crying. Bawling her eyes out about marrying some guy—”

“The ninth richest man in the world,” Coop says, correcting me before he adds, “and with all the power that goes along with it.”

As if the man’s deep pockets would deter me more than challenge me.

“Fine. Whatever. Anyway, I was just letting her get it out. I don’t know what’s going on, but she really needed someone, anyone, to listen without judgment.”

Coop’s eyes narrow on me, probably because he can sense I’m laying it on thick. But I keep going, appealing to the innate Achilles heel of his hidden soft side.

“Hey, it’s not like you’re any better when the tears start. What could I do?”

“Uh, maybe pat her on the shoulder and keep your distance? Seriously, Austin. Her fiancé is practically the Russian mob.”

Okay, so he knows more about Dimitri than I thought. My operative training kicks in, and I don’t directly deny the knowledge I have, but I don’t acknowledge it either.

“Right. Sure. Whatever. Anyway, at some point we both lay down. Separately. Separate throw pillows. I gave her the blanket. But at some point, I must have fallen asleep. The next thing I know, you’re kicking me like I’m a vagrant, and she’s lying in my arms with a cute little snore in my ear.”

“I don’t snore,” Evie says, shuffling into the kitchen with a sleepy gait and her crazy bed hair that makes her unbelievably hot. On her way to flipping on the Keurig, she shoots me a wink, and I realize she’s taken it upon herself to dig me out of the mess with Coop.

I want to tell her it’s under control. That I don’t need her help. Because, seriously, I’m not sure if she’ll do more harm than good. Or let the cat out of the bag about my involvement, and the sum of all the little half-truths would put me in a world of shit with Coop.

“It was completely innocent, Coop,” Evie says matter-of-factly enough to be convincing. “I just needed to vent.”

Before me, Evie transforms. Waterworks. Trembling lips. And I admit it. I’m impressed. In an Oscar-worthy feat, she throws herself at me, nuzzling her face against my chest and wailing a bit too much.

Patting her back, I toss Coop an I told you so glance and shrug before whispering, “Easy.” I’m not coddling her as much as directing her performance, and instantly, her over-the-top blubbering winds down to whimpering.

Which is the worst possible thing she could do first thing in the morning with her petite body pressed against me. My eyes grow with alarm as my morning wood vies for attention, and Evie muffles her giggles under the pretense of sobs, with pure suggestion lacing her smartass moans.

“How would you like your coffee?” Coop asks Evie, snagging her attention enough that she lifts her head to look at him, but still keeps her warm little body against mine.

Unfazed, she rattles off, “Hazelnut, cream, and four sugar cubes. Unless you have Bailey’s. Then hazelnut and Bailey’s.” Done with her crazy request, she burrows back into my hold, and I swallow hard, using any thought I can to distract myself.

World news. Sports stats. That crazy meme of the two women shouting and the hissing cat replying. But it’s the thought of Gaby that instantly deflates me, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

As Coop busies himself rummaging through cabinets for the Bailey’s, Evie whines in defeat before whispering, “Spoilsport.”

I seriously tamp down the thought of smacking her ass and release my hold, though the spunky little vixen hasn’t released hers. “It’ll be all right,” I say loud enough for Coop to hear.

Handing Evie a mug that smells like cinnamon rolls, Coop says, “Well, looks like we have a quorum for breakfast. So, what are we having?”

As usual, he’s looking right at me, giving me enough of an excuse to pull away from Evie and check out the fridge.

“He shouldn’t be punished for me,” Evie says with enough genuine concern, it’s endearing.

“He’s not being punished.” Coop chuckles as he takes his time with the Keurig and doesn’t bother to offer me a cup.

I notice he’s set aside the last pod of my favorite Illy Intenso, so I forgive the butthead, especially when I notice he’s making a second cup to match Evie’s, and realize he’s preoccupied with taking care of his own guest.

Fixing coffee for a woman? It must be love.

Shaking my head, I reply. “I’m the one avoiding a punishment,” I say while digging in the fridge for eggs, bacon, and some fresh cheddar. “If we let Coop cook, we’ll all be crunching on eggs with bits of shell in them, and a generous side of Beanee Weenees.”

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