Piper woke to the sound of a halyard slapping the metal flagpole outside her window. During the night, a deep sense of disappointment had burrowed inside her, and she did her best to shake it off. His failure to execute might have been humiliating for him, but it was a gift to her. Things had gone far enough—much too far—without that final intimacy.

What had she been thinking? She hadn’t been thinking. That was the problem. Something about Cooper Graham made her disengage her brain. One thing was blindingly clear: despite their banter, despite the attraction he undeniably held for her, she wasn’t going down that path with him again, no matter how good it had been. Almost fantastic. The hard tension of his body under her palms. Those skillful hands that knew just where to go. She shivered.

They barely spoke over a breakfast of strawberry muffins and a delicious ham and cheese frittata she could only pick at. Piper dreaded the hours she’d be locked in the car alone with him, and as they set off from Two Harbors, she was as tightly wound as an ignition coil.

Instead of berating herself about what had happened, she should be happy that she’d made the great Cooper Graham lose control. But she didn’t feel happy. She could only hope he wouldn’t bring up last night because if he did, she’d have to play all her smart-ass cards, and she wasn’t sure how many she had left.

They’d barely cleared the iron ore docks before he released a diabolical chuckle. “Face it, Sherlock. You’re easy pickin’s. All I have to do is take off my shirt, and you’re pretty much a lost cause.”

And here they went again. Off to the wisecrack races.

“That’s true,” she said. “Male chests have always been my weakness. Seriously, Coop, if you get any more muscular, you’ll be scratching your armpits and wolfing down bananas.”

“You let me worry about that while you figure out how you’re going to help me with my little problem.”

“Excellent idea. Shut up for the next four hundred miles so I can ponder it.”

Another chuckle, which was fine with her, as long as they didn’t talk.

***

He should have tossed her right back on the bed and screwed her brains out until she begged him to get to the finish line. Instead, he’d been too mortified to think straight, and he’d dueled with her. Winning was in his blood, and he hated feeling like a loser. Hated even more knowing she had to be seeing him that way. He couldn’t pull off to the side of the road and throw her in the backseat like he wanted, but the silence in the car was getting to him. Somehow he had to show her he was still the quarterback of their team.