It galled him. Compared to his usual women, she was a guy, for god’s sake. A guy packaged in an incredibly sexy, incredibly appealing, incredibly tough little body. Which basically contradicted everything he’d been trying to tell himself about her.

And that was the reason he couldn’t let Piper Dove waltz out of his life. Because he wanted her, and she refused to want him back. She didn’t flatter him or flirt with him, and she definitely hadn’t fallen for him.

He needed her to do that. Not fall in love for real. He’d hate that. Just fall for him.

“I want an exit interview,” he said when they’d pulled up behind her car in the city. “Tomorrow night at the club.” He handed over the fuses he’d taken from her Sonata without offering to put them back in. She’d know how to do that herself. Of course she would. She was the leading edge of a new civilization, one that rendered the traditional male skills of ex-jocks obsolete.

He left her with her head buried under the hood of her car, rump thrust out, and headed home. His garage door opened soundlessly. He parked next to his Tesla, grabbed his duffel, and let himself out through the side door. The floodlights on the back of the garage had burned out, and the path was dark. He heard a rustle. With no more warning than that, a man leaped from the shrubs and swung something that looked like a tire iron at Coop’s head. Coop spun and jerked. His adrenaline kicked in. He drove his shoulder into the man’s chest and grabbed his arm.

The guy grunted but didn’t fall. He tried to swing the tire iron again but Coop had his arm. He twisted it. The man kicked out, hitting Coop in his bad knee and throwing him off balance. Coop took a hard shot that would have sent him down if his reflexes hadn’t been so sharp. The guy was big. Hulking. Coop ignored the shooting pain in his knee to go after him.

The fight was short but brutal, and the thug had finally had enough. He tore away from Coop’s grasp, screamed something at him, and took off into the alley. Coop started after him, but his knee buckled, and by the time he got his balance again, the thug was gone.

His jaw throbbed. His knee hurt like hell, and his knuckles were bleeding. But instead of calling the cops... instead of going inside to grab some ice for his face... he limped back into the garage and climbed into his car.

***

“Oh my god! What happened to you?” Piper grabbed the edge of the door, her eyes wide with alarm. She was wearing a fucking Bears jersey again. How many of those sons of bitches did she have?