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Violet had had enough of his arguments and her excuses. She grabbed hold of those pearly snaps covering that muscular chest, yanked him forward, and kissed him with all the abandon of the woman she used to be.
*
Vivi is definitely no delicate flower.
And for that, Coop was grateful.
Vivi’s kiss was all-in. This was no tentative approach. No polite brush of lips. She kissed him the way a woman did when she’d been wondering about the experience and couldn’t walk away without knowing—
She stepped back, panting a little, sweet face aflame with color.
—what their kiss would be like.
A smile built on Coop’s face, the kind that etched itself into cheeks and memories. He wanted her to kiss him again. Longer. Slower.
“I’ll be going now,” Vivi said, gaze traveling everywhere but across his face.
She didn’t move.
“You’ll think about that kiss later,” Coop said softly, teasingly. There was something brewing between them, like a summer storm over the Hamptons when the wind stalled. Attraction was thick in the air between them, keeping them standing within touching—kissing—distance. And he, for one, knew exactly what he wanted to do about it—kiss Vivi again! “I’ll call you later.”
Her shocked gaze landed on his face. “You don’t have my number.”
Oh, he had her number, all right. She was a woman who paid too much attention to appearances. But she was ready for romance and the right man to keep her on her toes, the way she’d keep her man on his.
“The name Vivi suits you. Violet is the business-like professor. Vi is the caring granddaughter. But Vivi…” Coop resisted reaching for a lock of her thick, wayward hair. “Vivi trusts the tide to take her somewhere new and exciting. Vivi isn’t scared to climb into a sailboat without a destination. Vivi doesn’t wait for the man she’s interested in to set the pace. She’s in charge of the play, just like Shakespeare.”
Her jaw dropped open, but she said nothing.
Coop pried Yancy’s reins from her tensely-curled fingers, tipped his hat, and swung up in the saddle.
He rode off, not exactly into the sunset. But he could feel Vivi’s gaze upon him and he didn’t look back.
*
“Look at my Xuri jacket, Vi.” Grandma Dotty was waiting for Violet in the living room when she returned from her little ride with Chuck.
She could no longer refer to him asnot-Chuck. Not after that wowzer of a kiss.
No. He was Chuck, who was interested in and familiar with Shakespeare. He was Chuck, who made her wish she’d met him a year from now after she’d achieved tenure. He was Chuck, who kissed exactly as that mischievous smile promised.
And speaking of promises, he’d promised to call her. Now, Violet would look at every unfamiliar number that showed up on her cell phone screen and wonder if it was him or a pre-recorded message reminding her that her car warranty had lapsed and needed renewing. Not that she owned a car anymore, but those spammers couldn’t even target car owners. They called her all the time.
“Ain’t I bombin’, Vi?” Grandma Dotty wore a black one piece bathing suit underneath an oversized white denim, puffy jacket with cute blue bunnies painted on the back and blue-gray faux fur trimming the sleeves and hood. The jacket hem hung down to her knobby knees. Overall, the coat was so large, it could have fit two Grandma Dotties inside.
“You aredabomb,” Violet confirmed, flopping onto the couch and staring at her table out by the pool where her work awaited. And would wait. Racing memories of charming cowboys weren’t going to allow her to concentrate just yet. Somewhere, music was playing, but Vi’s jumbled thoughts wouldn’t let her identify the song. She was adrift in the feeling of being held by strong arms and kissed like she was Chuck’s brand of hotness.
Dr. Violet Summer wasn’t hot. She was a well-respected, up-and-coming professor.
And yet…
She covered her face with her hands and groaned.
“Vi! Are you listening to me?” Her grandmother backed into Violet’s line of sight, trying to do the running man. “And one. And two. And three. And four.” Her cheeks were bright red and sweat had finally defeated her short mohawk.
“The coat is awesome.” But looked out of place on her grandmother. And something else was out of place. “Why are you dancing to the soundtrack fromWest Side Story?” The music came from the stereo across the room.
“That hip hop music was giving me a headache.” Grandma Dotty sank on the sofa, practically disappearing inside her jacket with the hood flipped up. “Did I miss our horseback ride?”
