Page 51 of Ruthless Wars

It’s way too soon for something like that. And who knows? Maybe she’ll be all over me like she was last night. Or maybe she’ll run for the fucking hills because I’m a lunatic, and we barely know each other.

Or maybe, an annoying little voice inside my head says, she’ll find out what I’m really doing here and hate my goddamn guts.

Rather than torture myself by staying next to her, or risk waking her up at the insistence of my morning wood, I decide to head downstairs for a quiet cup of coffee so I can collect my thoughts.

Halfway down the staircase, I notice the fire’s been burning all night. It’s a little dangerous, but not nearly as alarming as the sight of two people curled up with each other on the carpet in front of it.

Seriously, the son of a bitch is goddamn lucky I don’t fucking bludgeon him to death right in the middle of the room.

I stalk over to Austin and kick him in the leg, enough to jolt him awake, but not enough to disturb the woman nestled in his arms. When he blinks awake and sees I’m two seconds from losing my shit, his eyes widen and he slips out of Evie’s arms, softly tucking the throw around her. She stirs but remains asleep.

In seconds, we’re in the kitchen, and it’s all I can do from grabbing him by the throat. Though, knowing my cousin, I’d be in for one hell of a rough ride with the special forces veteran.

His hands fly up in surrender. “It’s not what you think.”

“Right. Evelyn Banks—who’s very much engaged—is in your fucking arms, and it’s not what I think. Because I’ll tell you what I think—”

“We were talking,” he says quickly, rushing through his words to fumble out some lame explanation. “Well, she was talking. Then she was crying. Bawling her eyes out about marrying some guy—”

“The ninth richest man in the world,” I say, correcting him with a warning. “And with all the power that goes along with it.”

“Fine. Whatever. Anyway, I was just letting her get it out. She really needed someone—anyone—to listen without judgment.” When my eyes narrow on him, he keeps going. “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.”

Dismissive, he raises an unimpressed brow. “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 grumpily, interrupting the conversation as she flips on the Keurig.

I didn’t hear her come into the kitchen, and half suspect she’s been listening for a while.

“It was completely innocent, Coop. I just needed to vent.” She averts her gaze but her lower lip trembles, a sure sign the waterworks are about to start.

God help me, now I’m fighting the uncontrollable urge to hug her.

Luckily for me, she throws herself at Austin, tucking her face in his neck and crying on his shoulder until his arms wrap around her. And not some delicate little-girl cry. A big, desperate, genuinely ugly cry of a woman seriously tormented.

Helplessly, Austin gives me an I told you so glance and shrugs.

I roll my eyes as he rocks her gently and strokes her back, and I have to admit, it does look innocent. At least, as innocent as me babying Allison must have looked.

Fine. So, Austin’s not the total asshole I thought he was a minute ago, but I still shoot him the stink eye as a warning. We might share the same blood, but I’ll be at the head of the goddamn line if he needs a reminder to steer clear of engaged women.

“How would you like your coffee?” I ask Evie, snagging her attention in the hope she just needs a jolt of caffeine to get herself focused and out of her own head.

She looks up just long enough to say, “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 Austin’s hold.

I search through two cabinets before finding the Bailey’s that I’m not exactly sure how long has been here. Unscrewing the cap, I take a sniff and decide it’s fine, but give the bottle a swirl for good measure.

“It’ll be all right,” Austin tells her. At least he’s not kissing her temple. Or any other part of her body.

I hand Evie the mug that smells like a candy shop. “Well, looks like we have a quorum for breakfast. So,” I ask Austin, “what are we having?”

As Austin pulls away from Evie to check out the fridge, she immediately objects.

“He shouldn’t be punished for me.”

“He’s not being punished,” I say, chuckling as I fix my own cup of coffee.

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