The jab to my side wakes me instantly, and it only takes a few sleepy blinks to realize Coop is looming over me like a murderer seconds before the lock of a choke hold. The little snore in my ear reminds me where I am and who I’m with, making my eyes pop open wide awake in an instant. Fuck.
I slide out from under Evie’s little body, gently tucking the throw around her. She stirs but remains asleep.
In seconds, Coop and I are in the kitchen, and it’s all I can do to keep the man from a full-on throat punch. In a show of surrender—and protectively in case that throat punch is still on the table—I throw my hands up.
“It’s not what you think.”
“Right,” Coop says, not buying it at all. “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—”
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.”
“Cooking was never my strong suit,” Coop says with a grin. “And with Alli being culinary challenged like me, that leaves the fate of our meals in Austin’s hands.”
“But Alli does one hell of a bang-up job with pastries,” I say, pointing my chin at the box of fresh Danishes, muffins, and croissants from a local bakery. When Coop checks out the box, distracted by drooling at the selection, I say low to Evie, “But I’m sure they don’t hold a candle to yours.”
Evie smiles in appreciation as she offers me a sip of her coffee. Though tempted, I decline, shaking my head but falling so deep in her bright blue eyes, I totally forget what I was doing.
“Well, I’ll make the eggs,” Evie says, snagging the bowl of eggs from my hand, sliding her fingers against mine and inciting a spark we both ignore.
With the eggs and cheese, she slides everything to a far corner of the white granite island she’s staked a claim on. She keeps her eyes fixed on what she’s doing, the growing pink in her cheeks only making her more beautiful by the second.
“You cook?” Coop asks Evie, disbelief ringing in his tone.
I’m fishing around for a pan when I hear Evie crack several eggs. I’m surprised when she doesn’t bring up her baking. Instead, she brings up her past.
“I was alone a lot with a nanny that I hated and chefs that I absolutely adored. They could’ve gotten fired for it, but they let me help in the kitchen when my parents were away.”
I don’t know if she’s making this up on the fly, but it feels like she’s sharing a piece of her life that’s both lonely and fascinating. The brightness in her cheeks drains, and in an instant, I miss it.
Frozen, she shoots a worried look at Coop. “Don’t tell Gabe I hated his mom.”
Gabe would be the man our cousin Alli brought this weekend. The one she credits with getting her through law school. And the one who obsesses about Alli’s accomplishments at every opportunity.
I wipe my mind of what they might be doing at that very moment and can only think that the two of them are probably headed down here soon. But considering I only just learned of the man, it makes me wonder how Evie knows Gabe, or if she’s just that connected to all the attorneys of Dallas.
“I won’t,” Coop tells her. “But you’re hardly one to hold back. Don’t you think he knows?”
I’m a little taken aback to realize that Coop seems to know Evie much better than I do, as she only takes a second to consider his question before nodding.
“Probably,” she says, then sips her coffee and resumes cracking eggs. She doesn’t look at me, though now I’m clearly staring, fascinated to see her crack two eggs at a time, one in each hand.
My trance is broken when Allison and Gabe wander in, hand in hand but not overtly clingy. Which is a good thing. Coop studies them skeptically for a long minute before giving our cousin a quick hug before shaking Gabe’s hand.
He’s about to make introductions, but I’m sure Margot would appreciate a hot cup of coffee, so I shoo Coop away. Giving me a grateful look, he heads for the stairs carrying two coffee mugs.
Holding out my hand, I say, “I’m Austin. And this is Margot’s friend Evie.” I’m careful with the introductions, not knowing exactly how Gabe and Evie are acquainted.
“Oh, Evie and I go way back.”
Gabe rushes to Evie’s side, snatching both eggs from her hands before grabbing a third one and juggling them. “Please tell me you’re making quiche. Evie makes the best quiche.”
How is it that every man in this house knows Evie—and knows her better than I do?
“That would be an unwarranted carb overload with all the gorgeous pastries. Just scrambled eggs,” she says, holding her hands out for the return of the eggs he’s tossing higher with each pass.
“Fine,” he says, managing to have all three eggs land in his hands without a single crack, then hands them back. “Well, you also make the best scrambled eggs, so that works.” Gabe wraps an arm around Alli.
“How do you all know each other,” I ask while busying myself getting the bacon in the oven.
Gabe grins. “Oh, Evie’s one of those women who, you know . . . has seen me naked.”
A comment like that catches me off guard. Well, hell. Join the club.
With Alli’s broad grin, I half suspect he’s joking until Evie chimes in.
“Um, it’s been a while.”
Seriously?
“What’s a while?” I ask before I can help myself as I wonder about Alli’s glee-filled face.
Gabe and Evie are looking at each other, apparently tackling the mental math problem together.
Evie’s smile is pure evil. “It’s been years.”
“Years. Yes,” Gabe says. “Years, for sure.”
At this point, my arms are tightly folded across my chest, though I have no idea why. I’m certainly not jealous of the twelve-year-old Alli brought home as her date. Or that this very much engaged woman of the world has seen other men naked. But still, it rubs me the wrong way.
Evie’s laughing, but her giggles dry up as she shouts, “Austin!”
Her gaze focuses behind me, and I spin around to a small trail of smoke escaping from the oven. As soon as I open the door, the cloud of smoke has me switch on the super-industrial exhaust fan that I helped Coop install, and I take back everything I said about the ridiculousness of the several-thousand-dollar piece of equipment.
Fanning the remaining smoke with a kitchen mitt, I yank the tray from the oven. Just a grease burn, thank God.
I snatch a piece and chomp. “Hope you all like your bacon crispy.”
Nearly every hand in the kitchen reaches around me to grab a slice, with each person savoring the snap of each bite.
“Mmm,” Evie says as she grabs another one. “Give me three minutes on the eggs, and we can eat,” she says, chomping away.
“What about Coop and Margot?” Gabe asks, all polite and not at all like a man who galivants around in the nude.
“Margot will be all about the pastries,” Evie says.
“Coop too,” I say, lying because I can seriously eat this whole tray of bacon myself. You snooze, you lose, cuz.
Alli and Gabe are all lovey-dovey at the coffee maker, and I grab a pan from the drawer and set it on the stove as Evie comes up with her giant bowl of whipped eggs. She’s busy getting the pan ready, and I hand her a spatula.
“Are naked men a hobby of yours?” I ask, trying not to sound jealous but pointing an accusing piece of bacon at her.
“I wouldn’t exactly call it a hobby. Take you, for example. There I am, minding my own business, when—pow—naked man,” she says in a whisper, giggling before snatching the bacon right out of my hand. Delighted, the little thief gives several exaggerated chomps as she works the eggs to a fluffiness that would rival any chef on the Food Network.
Her bright blue eyes meet mine as her elbow jabs me in the gut. “Gabe’s mom was my nanny, but I liked watching over him. He was like a living, breathing, peeing doll.”
Gabe approaches with two fresh cups of coffee.
“I object to being referred to as a doll. More like a really young hostage. I’m guessing this is yours,” he says as he hands Evie the fragrant, creamy one. Then he offers a dark roast to me. The strong smell is heaven. “Alli said you prefer diesel, but that this would do.”
“She’s right,” I say, savoring the glory of the pure cup of Arabica. “I’m glad to meet you, Gabe. A friend with blackmail-worthy scoop on Evie.”
“Don’t get your bromance hopes high,” Evie says, shutting off the stove and emptying the eggs on a large platter Alli has ready. “I’m the queen of blackmail. I’ve got more dirt on Gabe than a bulldozer. Photos too,” she says with a jovial wink.
“I wouldn’t exactly call my toddler butt blackmail material. My mom posts more embarrassing pics of me on Facebook than you could ever dream of. Bring. It. On.”
“I know,” Evie says, undaunted. “Where do you think I get my material?”