Big Sur, California
From the airport, the drive up the narrow, winding turns along the seaside cliffs of Highway 1 is equal parts nerve-racking and delightful in the classic convertible Coop had waiting for us on the tarmac.
With my hair pulled back in a ponytail, I draw in deep breaths filled with fresh sea air, enjoying the drive with the top down. Traveling is second nature for me, but the coastline of California is new for me and is unlike anything I’ve ever seen.
Wine hasn’t been my interest. Europe's my usual stomping ground, where I can hopscotch across half a dozen countries on a whim. But the crisp kaleidoscope of sun-kissed colors makes this different. Gorgeous. Paradise.
The sun’s soft brightness turns the sky bluer and all the other colors deeper. The tiny two-lane road we’re driving may be a far departure from the everything’s bigger in Texas experience I grew up with, but every mile of the coastal drive overlooking the tranquil sparkling waters of the Pacific Ocean is breathtaking.
I nudge the passenger side mirror just a hair, adjusting it to get a better look at the two people in the equally pristine classic convertible behind us.
When was the last time Evie laughed that hard? Or smiled, for that matter? The closer she is to walking down the aisle, the sadder she seems to be.
As I check the driver, it’s clear that Coop’s cousin Austin is having just as good a time. “I can’t believe you got your cousin to chauffeur Evie.”
“He wanted to. We all love the idea of the California lifestyle. Convertibles along the coast. Flip-flops. The beach. Freedom,” Coop says enthusiastically to the sky.
“How did your family end up coming here for vacations?” I ask, enjoying his easygoing handling of the vintage Mercedes. One hand rests on the wheel while his other elbow hangs over the open window frame.
“It was our escape,” he says with a wry smile that seems sad at the same time. “My parents had times when the fighting got bad.”
I smooth a hand over his thigh, removing any suggestiveness from my touch, soothing him as I quietly listen.
Coop’s straight lips turn to a slight smile as he notices my touch. “Mom would load us all up in a van—me, Aiden, and Avery—and somehow we landed here. We’d usually stay a week or two, or sometimes longer,” he says, his smile fading.
“And you were the oldest,” I say, somehow feeling the truth of it.
Unusually bashful, he shrugs. “Do I have that look about me?”
“Takes one to know one.”
“You’re the oldest?” he asks, surprise ringing in his tone.
“Mm-hmm.” I uncap my water bottle for a sip. “Jaclyn and I are only a few years apart, but even early on, I could see the ambition brewing behind her eyes. It was something I’d never have, and I didn’t want to compete with her. After her mother passed—”
Coop rubs my hand. “Margot, I'm sorry. I had no idea your mother passed.”
“No,” I say quickly, realizing my faux pas in assuming everyone already knows. “Jaclyn's mother passed, not mine. Jaclyn, Wyatt, and I all share the same father, but each have a different mother. And people say the only thing my dad's interested in is money,” I say with a laugh, but Coop doesn't return it. A strange expression flashes across his face, but he turns away before I can study it more.
I go back to what I was saying. “I just wanted to be there for Jaclyn. Sometimes like a sister, sometimes like a mom. So, I looked after her and my brother, Wyatt. But not like you.”
“How do you mean?” Coop lifts a brow.
“If your mom was whisking you away from a rough situation, you’d have to grow up fast. Be more protective. Like you are with Alli.”
He chuckles. “Alli’s the easy one. Sweet. Hard-working. Pushes herself way harder than she needs to. She gets that from her mom.”
“And her uncle.”
“Maybe a little,” Coop says proudly. “Aiden and Avery were Mom’s little angels and pure hell for me. Avery would dare Aiden into doing something stupid, like flip-kicking a skateboard down the stairs. Next time, Aiden would dare Avery to slip a can of beer under her coat at the gas station. Between emergency rooms and posting bail, it was always something with them. You?”
“Wyatt laid pretty low, hiding himself away in the world of art and architecture. My challenge was finding inventive ways to coax him out. Lure him away from his tendency to lose himself in a painting or book.”
“How’d you get him to spend time with you?”
With a giggle, I recall a story. “Well, I once told him I was taking him to an art gallery but dragged him to Pottery Barn. Sure, he was disappointed at first, but we had fun jumping on a bed, and when they shooed us away, I made it all better with a Blizzard and pretzel bites from the food court. Now, Jaclyn was my hellion.”
Coop gives me an incredulous look. “Jaclyn? The future CEO of Long Multinational?”
“When her head wasn’t in a book, she was in one fight or another.”
“You were bailing her out?”
“Hell no. I was having her back, especially in college. Poor Wyatt was our one phone call. Every time.”
With a tight turn, we head away from the ocean, driving inland up a steep hill. As we round a curve bordered by a thin line of trees, a luxury seaside mansion appears.
As soon as Coop parks, I hop out of the car, grateful for my casual deck shoes as I shuffle along the pebbled drive. “It’s gorgeous,” I say, taking in the lavish home. The sleek lines and rounded angles offset its grandeur, blending perfectly into the nature around it.
“Alli has a fresh pitcher of sangria waiting, and some other goodies in the kitchen. She and Gabe headed to the beach since Evie’s already slacking on the job,” Coop says, shooting her a scolding glare over the rim of his Ray-Bans.
“O, ye of little faith,” Evie says, handing him her phone opened to what seems to be a GIF starring Evie and Austin.
I lean in for a closer look, immediately captured by Coop’s strong arm swooping me tightly against his easygoing T-shirt that I’m sure was made exclusively to cuddle against.
“I already texted Gabe.” In the six-second video, Evie’s making a V of her fingers, moving them back and forth between her eyes and the camera, mouthing, “I see you.” Behind her is Austin, mirroring her movements with, “Me too,” coming from his smiling lips.
“Fine,” Coop says. “You earned your keep.”
When he tightens his hold on me, I melt into the wall of his heat, ready to hump his leg if he keeps it up. After hooking his shades onto the neckline of his shirt, he presses his lips to mine.
Pulling away before he’s ready for me to go is hopeless. He’s not done kissing me yet, no matter who’s watching.
Coop’s kiss is rough and hungry, his fresh stubble rubbing my lips. The sensation makes me tingle, almost as much as his solid cock makes me wet as it presses into my belly.
Breathless, I moan into his mouth.
“Shhh,” he whispers against my lips. “As much as I’d like you to break the sound barrier tonight, we’ve got a house full of my family.”
Seductively, I bite my lower lip. “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. You want me quiet? That’s your problem to solve.”
“Hey, Austin,” Coop hollers, though the man is just a few feet away. He seems to have unloaded luggage from both convertibles while I’ve been in Coop’s arms, and just shut the trunk of ours. “I know you’re dying to hit the beach, and I’ll bet Evie would enjoy the sand between her toes.”
Austin’s chuckle ends in a nervous huff. “You’re not actually trying to set me up with an engaged woman, right?”
“No.” Coop’s tone is stern and certain. “But we only have a couple of days here, and you’re not exactly a homebody. And Evie—”
“And nothing.” Austin crosses his arms over his chest. “If you want me and Evie out of your hair, you’ll have to throw money at the problem.”
Coop pulls me closer, and instantly I know that no matter what outrageous demand flies out of Austin’s mouth, Coop’s ready, willing, and—by the boldness of his erection against me—more than happy to pay.
Confident, Coop gives his cousin a shark’s grin. “Name your price.”
“Your black card.” Austin’s words prompt a questioning brow to lift clear to Coop’s hairline, so he clarifies his outrageous demand. “For the afternoon. That includes a few hours renting a premium sailboat—the only one left in the marina at this hour—shopping, a supremely expensive seafood dinner, and whatever else I can do to squeeze this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for all it’s worth.”
Coop fishes the card from his wallet, not hesitating for a second to hand it over. “You drive a hard bargain. But are you sure Evie’s okay with this?”
The slam of the house’s front door draws everyone’s attention to Evie. In denim capris and a loose white T-shirt, she’s beaming from ear to ear as she skips over, quickly knotting her hair in a low bun at her nape before securing it with a scrunchie. “I’m ready.”
“Ready?” I ask, piecing together the puzzle of two obvious co-conspirators who probably used the drive from the airport to work out the details well ahead of Coop’s suggestion.
He looks down on me sweetly, pressing a light peck to my forehead, silently insisting he’s fine with being duped.
“I’m finally going to learn to sail,” Evie says with a huge grin. “Can you believe it?”
“You’ve wanted to go sailing?” Glancing at her outfit, I link an arm through hers and pull her to our car. The light denim jacket I brought should be enough to keep her from getting too cold out on the water.
“Yes!” Evie’s response is ecstatic and vengeful at the same time. “Ever since Alan got a four-week all-expense-paid sailing getaway in Australia, and I got stuck with Granny Duncan, learning how to fucking crochet.” With a regretful frown, she adds, “I still have that Victorian doily, God rest her soul.”
I shake out the jacket, freeing it of wrinkles, and Evie slips her arms into the sleeves. Her smile’s so big, I’m positive I’ve never seen her this happy. Ever. Something about her dancing eyes and hardly any makeup makes her look different. Lighter somehow.
Maybe Coop’s right. This is a place for freedom from whatever cage we’re desperate to escape.
Before Austin can make it to the driver’s side of their convertible, a practiced whistle flies from Evie’s lips . . . the type that’s usually only used on police dogs and New York City cab drivers.
“Not so fast, hotshot. I’m driving,” she says, thumbing at herself adamantly.
Austin lobs the keys over his shoulder, catching them behind his back before winding up for a light underhand toss to Evie.
I breathe a loud sigh of relief when she catches them, her scornful glare hitting me when I do.
“Don’t be so surprised. I may not exactly be a pro athlete, but if I can juggle more balls working for the Longs than a circus performer, I can certainly catch a little pair of keys.”
“That’s you, Evie. Ball-handler extraordinaire.” I use the excuse of a light hug to whisper in her ear. “There’s Dramamine in the pocket if you need some.”
Giving me a light peck on my cheek, she rolls her eyes, saying, “Thanks, Mom,” then scurries to the driver’s side, where the door’s been left open and waiting.
Austin’s ball cap and sunglasses are in place, masking most of his uncomfortable wince when Evie grinds the car into gear.