Chapter 25
They reached Austin as the sun dipped low, the sky streaked with a mix of red and violet. Rush hour barely slowed them, thanks to Vince’s effortless handling of the bike, navigating the congested streets like he’d been born to it.
When they veered off the busy main road into a quiet neighborhood, Erica straightened. Large homes sat back from the street behind trimmed hedges and towering trees. The farther they rode, the grander the houses became.
He turned onto a curving drive shaded by sprawling live oaks. The house came into view bit by bit: white brick, black shutters, and a deep wraparound porch. Tall windows reflected the last of the light. The entire estate looked expensive but understated. Refined rather than showy.
When he cut the engine, silence returned, broken only by cicadas and the faint ticking of the cooling bike. He dismounted and steadied her as she swung her leg over.
Her knees wobbled but he caught her before she could tip, one arm firm around her waist.
“I’ve got you,” he said, a hint of a grin. “All that horsepower takes some getting used to.”
She pulled off her helmet as soon as she could stand. Her ponytail had loosened, leaving wind-tossed wisps around her face. She smoothed what she could then he stepped in, brushing a stubborn strand from her cheek with his thumb. It was a small gesture, unthinking, easy, but she felt it.
“You’re good,” he murmured.
“Thanks.” She smiled, but it faltered when she looked past him at the house. “You grew up here?”
“Yeah.”
As he grabbed their stuff from the saddlebags, she took in the scale, the manicured grounds, the price tag she couldn’t imagine.
“My mother’s family came from old oil money,” he said. “Comfortable, not obscene. My dad was a successful attorney before he was appointed to the federal bench.”
Austin influence. They came from different worlds entirely.
“You walked away from this?”
He shook his head. “Didn’t walk away. I just didn’t want a desk.”
The front door opened, and an older couple came out onto the porch. She and Vince climbed the front steps to meet them.
“My parents, Ray and Margie Cooper,” he said. “This is Erica.”
Ray had presence. He was tall, composed, and confident in a way that came from decades of authority.
He was also a good-looking older man, giving her a glimpse of the Coop to come.
Margie, in subtle makeup, highlighted blonde hair, a sleeveless button-down, and cuffed khakis, looked younger than she expected and like she played tennis. Or maybe pickleball.
Margie moved first. “Vincent Cooper,” she called. “You made this poor woman ride all the way from San Antonio on that thing?”
“Short ride, beautiful day,” he replied.
“It was my first time,” Erica explained. “But I actually enjoyed it.”
She rarely shook hands. She’d learned better years ago. But something in his mother’s open expression made her extend hers, anyway.
“Mrs. Cooper—”
“None of that. It’s Margie, please.” She ignored her hand entirely and pulled her into a warm hug.
Erica stiffened for a moment, bracing for the usual rush of someone else’s emotions, but nothing happened. No static. No sense of wrongness. Only warmth and a welcome that caught her off-balance.
Ray stepped forward next, but Coop gently caught her right hand before she could extend it, drawing her close to his side. It was deliberate, protective, and not at all subtle.
“Mr. Cooper,” she said softly.
Ray glanced at his son. A moment of silent understanding passed between them. Then he smiled at her, not offering a handshake or a hug.
“It’s nice to meet you. We never get the chance to meet anyone Vince dates all the way down in San Antonio.”
“It’s ninety minutes, Dad.”
“Come in out of this heat,” Margie said as Ray held the door.
Inside, a high-ceilinged foyer opened to a wide wooden staircase and a long hallway lined with shelves of books and original art. On the top shelf sat framed photographs. One caught her eye: a younger Vince in a Ranger Academy uniform, his father beside him, pride unmistakable in both their faces.
Erica looked at him again, recalibrating. He hadn’t rejected this life or been forced into it. He’d been allowed a choice and supported.
“You look like you’re thinking too hard,” he observed, spot-on as usual.
Margie gestured toward the back of the house. “The guest cottage is ready if you’d like to settle in. We’ll have dinner as soon as Tasha arrives.” She gave Vince a wide-eyed look. “She’s bringing her new boyfriend. Caleb. Have you met him?”
“Twice,” he replied. “And before you ask, I’m still reserving judgment.”
“This should be interesting,” Ray muttered as he led the way down the hall.
She glanced at Vince as they brought up the rear. “Cottage?”
He leaned closer. “I prefer breathing room from the folks.”
Her cheeks warmed. “You planned this.”
“I plan most things.”
It wasn’t arrogance, but a man who handled contingencies for a living.
As they left the main house, walking toward the pool and the separate cottage tucked behind it, she understood something clearly: he didn’t become a Ranger because he lacked options. He wanted to, and that choice mattered.
Vince unlocked the door and let her enter first.
It was charming. One large open sitting space, a small kitchenette, and French doors looking out on the pool. Through an open doorway, in the only bedroom, she saw a king-sized bed.
Erica hesitated, a little uncomfortable. He, of course, noticed.
“We’re adults,” he said. “My parents understand that.”
She folded her arms loosely. “You don’t make a habit of this, do you?”
“No.”
She let that sit between them. His denial helped, and he’d never given her any reason not to trust him.
He moved closer. “Are we good?”
“Yeah. Except…” She looked down at her bug-splattered, no-longer-pristine capris. “You were right about the bugs.”
He smirked, refraining from an I told you so.
Best she let it drop. “I should wash up and change for dinner.”
He took their bags to the bedroom and set them inside the door. As she sifted through her things and shook out a summer dress, he leaned against the doorframe.
“Just slip on your suit. Tasha will want to swim after dinner.”
“I’m not eating dinner in a bathing suit.”
“Put on a cover-up.”
“I don’t have one.”
He disappeared into the closet and returned holding a white robe. “When you have a pool, you accumulate things. Suits, half-empty sunscreen bottles, beach towels. We could open a store.”
When she reached for it, he didn’t let go.
“Seems like a crime to cover you in a bikini.”
She gave him a look because that wasn’t happening. “Sorry, handsome. Statute of limitations ran out on me in a bikini years ago.”
His expression sobered. “Who told you that?”
“No one. I’m forty. Which means you get this”—she paused, sweeping her hand down her side—“in a modest one-piece.”
He claimed her space. “I’ve been picturing it in my mind since we left this morning. Not a one-piece. And definitely not modest.”
She patted his chest. “You’ll survive.”
His hand caught hers before she could pull away, holding it there a second longer. “True. Because there’s always after.” He bent and brushed her lips with his. “I’m going to check in with Justin while you change.”
She tipped her head slightly. “Who?”
“O’Reilly,” he said, already pulling his phone from his pocket.
“Ah, so he does have a first name.”
A corner of his mouth lifted as he scrolled. “He claims to hate it.”
“I rather like it,” she said, turning toward the hall. “Makes him seem less cocky.”
“That’ll happen. Maybe when he’s forty.”
She tossed an amused look over her shoulder. “Make your call. I’ll be ready when you’re through.”
Erica walked away, still smiling. Being with him like this felt wonderfully domestic. And real.
***
Coop came out of the cottage, the late-afternoon heat settling over him as the scent of grilled meat drifted across the yard. The fountain in the pool burbled steadily, his dad’s way of keeping the water cool in summer.
From the rustle of fabric, the shift of air as she moved, the light scent of lavender, he sensed Erica before he saw her. When she came alongside him, she took a breath, a bit unsteady.
His hand found hers. “Don’t be nervous. This is just family.”
She looked up at him. “There’s no such thing as just family, which is why I’m nervous.”
He understood. With her upbringing, her nervousness made sense. This was foreign territory, and she wanted to make a good impression. She needn’t worry, though. She already had.
“I can’t believe you convinced me to have dinner with your parents, half dressed.”
His gaze dipped. The cover-up concealed her suit, except for a black shadow beneath the fabric. He’d teased her about a bikini earlier, but the truth was simple: anything on her would look good.
He dragged his attention to her face before he forgot where they were. “You’re more than decent. And, as always, you look beautiful.” He raised her hand to his lips. “It’ll be fine, but no matter what happens, I’ve got you.”
She looked at him, hazel eyes burning. “Keep it up, and you may earn that bikini.”
He was still grinning when they reached the patio.
His dad stood at the grill, flipping burgers with the same precision and quiet control he brought to the bench.
“Vince!” he called when he noticed them. “Get over here and make yourself useful.”
His dad didn’t look up when he approached, just nudged the tongs toward a side table. “Stand by with that platter.”
Coop grabbed it without question then stood by, smoke from the grill rising between them. The meat and the platter weren’t what this was about.
Sure enough, he got to the point a moment later. “You were protective back there. The way you claimed her hand before she could shake mine.”
Coop kept his eyes on the steaks. “She doesn’t like being touched.”
“Hugging your mother didn’t bother her.”
“She read her,” he said simply. “Mom’s safe.”
“And I’m not?”
“I didn’t say that.”