Page 17 of Slick Trip

“Smart-ass,” Cooper muttered. “Don’t worry. I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

“I liked it,” I said before I could stop myself. It reminded me of how he used to act around me—back when his crush was painfully obvious and he couldn’t even hold eye contact without blushing.

Fast-forward to now, and the brat acted like I had rabies.

Wordlessly, Cooper pulled over at the next roadside restaurant. We got out of the car and stretched. Complaining about the heat, he threw his hoodie in the back seat. His crop top revealed an expanse of smooth, pale skin I tried my best to ignore. Then I saw a flash of something shiny at his midriff, and my mouth went dry. He had a navel piercing. A tiny silver bar in the soft dip of his stomach. Fuck. Had someone touched it? Traced their tongue along the flat lines of his stomach? I stopped myself just in time before making a fool of myself and demanding answers to questions I wasn’t entitled to have. Cooper started walking ahead of me, and I caught myself tracking the rhythmic sway of his hips, the loose, unguarded way his body moved.

Christ.

A guy walked past him and did a double-take. I glowered at him until he averted his eyes and kept walking. Even then, I had an urge to pull Cooper closer and make it clear he wasn’t anyone else’s to look at. I really needed to shut this territorial shit down. Now. Cooper deserved more than my bullshit. I didn’t get to want him. Wanting things never ended well for me. I’d known that since I was a child and I’d said out loud that my biggest dream was to have a family. Parents, siblings, and a place I could call home. I was told I didn’t deserve one.

You should be grateful for having a roof over your head while the government waits for you to see yourself out—the same way your parents did. ODing was the one good deed they ever managed for their community.

I watched Cooper smile at an older man who held the door open for him. The man was probably just being polite, but his looks reminded me of that foster dad who liked to pick fights with people half his size. And thinking about that jerk brought to mind the other one who said fear builds character. Cooper came from a different world. There was no violence in the Taylor household. No slammed doors at three in the morning, no need to sleep lightly.

Oblivious to the violent mess currently going on in my mind, Cooper found us a table, and we sat down. The waitress came over, and my jaw almost hit the floor when Cooper ordered the house pancake platter with chocolate sauce and whipped cream.

“Are you quite sure that’s enough sugar?” I asked after ordering my chicken salad with extra protein. I expected him to shoot back something scathing, but he just yawned and rubbed his eyes.

“Did you not sleep well?” The concern was a new, unwelcome development. That wasn’t true. The concern for Cooper had always been there. Voicing it was new.

“Of course I didn’t sleep well,” he snapped. “Knowing I’d be trapped in a car with you. The horror.”

Don’t react—

“Why don’t you tell me how you really feel?” I said gruffly.

Epic fail on not reacting.

Cooper didn’t say anything. In the past, after he got over his initial hero worship, he rarely shut up around me. I wasn’t used to his quiet. I fucking hated it.

“Trust me,” I muttered. “I get it. You hate me.”

I hoped against all hope he’d deny it, but he just shrugged. Fucking shrugged. Like I didn’t even matter anymore. Something in my chest dropped, forcing me to look away before he could see that it hurt.

When our food arrived, Cooper tucked in with a ferocity I hadn’t seen before.

“Wow,” I said, watching him demolish the pancakes. “You really were hungry.”

“Yeah.” He eyed my salad pityingly. “Look at that. Boredom in a bowl.”

“Please unsubscribe me from your opinions.”

“Attempted a joke there, did you?” Cooper asked with a smirk. Fuck, the smirk hit low.

“You can have some,” he added suddenly.

Eyes glinting, he speared a piece of pancake and held it out.

“Go on,” he said, biting his lip. “Take it.”

My entire body went hot. The gesture was intimate, ridiculous, and Cooper Taylor in his prime.

“Thank you,” I said tightly. “I’ll pass.”

“Suit yourself.”

Soon his plate was empty.