From the corner of my eye, I see my brothers trade looks.
A few minutes later, Coop comes back into the family room looking fresh and freakishly hot. His wet, wavy hair is slicked back, and all I want to do is run my hands through it.
And kiss him. I really, really want to kiss him.
“You’re up, Stinky,” Logan says, hitting my foot with his pajamaed one.
“And no touching her while you pass. This isn’t some star-crossed love scene, you creep,” Lucas says. Coop and I swap smiles with matching wide eyes as we walk past each other.
I head into the guest bathroom and shower as fast as I can. I could have slept in my old room last night. Could have used my old shower. But I knew if I went upstairs, I’d run the risk that Dad would hear me.
The fact that he’s not up yet is something of a miracle. He’s an early riser, so he must have slept poorly worrying about me to not be up and grilling Coop now.
The mere thought makes me cut my shower short—no shaved legs for this girl—and I don’t even bother putting makeup on. I twirl my hair into a towel wrap, throw on my favorite (and only) cashmere lounge set, and run out to the family room.
Where Coop is missing.
“What did you do?” I ask my brothers.
“Nothing!” Lucas says.
Logan rolls his eyes. Bear is curled on his lap, and Logan absentmindedly pets him. “Dad came downstairs after his workout and saw Coop?—”
“You let him take Coop? After a workout? He’s gonna kill him.”
“Your boyfriend askedhimif they could talk.” Logan cracks open a tin of mixed nuts.
I rush to the coffee table, getting between my brothers and the TV. “Tell me everything.”
Lucas waves me away. “What’s to tell? Dad came downstairs, saw Coop, looked like an enraged bull, and Coop asked if they could talk.”
“Where are they?”
“Outside.”
I throw my hands over my face. “If Dad kills Coop, I’m calling the cops on all three of you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
COOPER
Inever expected to find myself sitting on a snowplow made for two with Bruce Fischer as we clear his driveway on Christmas Eve.
But here we are.
At least he hasn’t run me over with the thing.
Of course, considering he toldmeto drive, maybe he should be lucky I haven’t runhimover yet.
The sun is covered by clouds, but it’s still bright enough reflecting off the snow that I have to squint to see. The frigid air bites at my cheeks, and I cinch my hood around my ears and use the UTV’s joystick controller to shovel.
“Bruce, I?—”
“How do you know how to use this? Have you plowed snow before?”
“No. My dad worked for Builder’s Bench and he taught me how to drive some of the machines.”
“Builder’s Bench? The hardware store? What, does he own all of the franchises along the West Coast?” he scoffs.
