depressed. Clinically.” He put air quotes around the word with his fingers. “I mean, you’re not in the dark, rocking in the fetal position. That we know of. But your life did just get upended. So your not jumping right back onto the MSP roster’s set off alarms for everyone. Even me.”
“I’m not depressed.” Once Doug was killed, the MSP made him visit with a therapist for a couple of weeks before they cleared him for active duty. Then once he started training, the Secret Service put him through multiple rounds of psychiatric testing and evaluation. Coop’s brain felt like an overscrubbed toilet. They’d practically used a plunger to churn up every damn emotion he’d ever had. So there was no goddamned way he was depressed. “I’m taking stock.”
“I think your mother is scared you’ll move to some shack in Montana and grow a foot-long beard. That would put a serious crimp in her plans for more grandkids.”
Coop pulled his arms overhead, interlaced his fingers and stretched into a back bend. Looking at the cloudless sky was a lot easier than looking at his cousin during this conversation. “My life does not revolve around procreating the next generation of Hudsons.”
“No kidding.” Brad smirked. “I saw that giant box of condoms in the bathroom.”
Okay. Maybe he’d bought some in anticipation of his date with Darcy last night. And thanks to all the college kids hooking up their way from dune to dune, they hadn’t been easy to find. Three stores were sold out. He’d finally bought the jumbo box at a gas station. Didn’t mean he planned to use them. At least, not all in one night. “You went all the way through Eagle Scouts with me. Tell me that being prepared hasn’t saved your hide more than once.”
“No argument here. But the whole family drilled me about how you’re so sensitive and moody that you might as well have PMS. I expected to find a box of tampons in the bathroom, not rubbers.”
“Very funny.” Hot and sweaty, Coop splashed through the low breakers until he could dunk himself. When he surfaced, spluttering, Brad was right there next to him. As were two kids sitting in oversized inner tubes, and three boys with boogie boards lined up in front of them. Coop kept on eye on them. One decent-sized wave could spell trouble for the tubers. He decided to bob for a while, now that he’d gotten used to the cold nip of the water, until they headed back to shore.
“I’m relieved you’re thinking with your dick again.” Brad kicked his feet up to float next to Coop.
“Right back at ya. Those weren’t smooth moves you used on Trina, but at least they were moves. Way to get back in the game.”
“She’s great. Spunky. Cute.”
“Uh huh. Don’t you really mean that she’s the complete opposite of your ex-fiancée?”
“Maybe. So what?”
Coop hated this. Hated that two of his sisters had texted him this morning with instructions on how to “handle” Brad. How to draw him out, boot him out of his doldrums and reset his self-esteem. And the dire threats of what would happen if Coop screwed up and made Brad even more sad. Courtney and Caroline probably wouldn’t approve of Brad attempting to fix himself by taking a couple of doses of a free-spirited strawberry blonde.
“So...Dana pretty much chopped your balls off and carried them off in her suitcase when she left.”
“You don’t need to remind me. I was less interesting than her career. She’d rather spend time racking up dollars than rolling in bed with me. I get it. But Trina doesn’t sound like she cares about a career. She’s just having fun. Running around, pretending to be a private eye, playing dress-up. She’s cute.”
“Yeah.” Just cute enough to get herself—and Darcy—into a whole lot of trouble. “And she seems to have the attention span of a goldfish. Are you ready to go straight from being engaged to being just a beach fling?”
“Wow.” Brad kicked none too gently at Coop’s
“I’m not depressed.” Once Doug was killed, the MSP made him visit with a therapist for a couple of weeks before they cleared him for active duty. Then once he started training, the Secret Service put him through multiple rounds of psychiatric testing and evaluation. Coop’s brain felt like an overscrubbed toilet. They’d practically used a plunger to churn up every damn emotion he’d ever had. So there was no goddamned way he was depressed. “I’m taking stock.”
“I think your mother is scared you’ll move to some shack in Montana and grow a foot-long beard. That would put a serious crimp in her plans for more grandkids.”
Coop pulled his arms overhead, interlaced his fingers and stretched into a back bend. Looking at the cloudless sky was a lot easier than looking at his cousin during this conversation. “My life does not revolve around procreating the next generation of Hudsons.”
“No kidding.” Brad smirked. “I saw that giant box of condoms in the bathroom.”
Okay. Maybe he’d bought some in anticipation of his date with Darcy last night. And thanks to all the college kids hooking up their way from dune to dune, they hadn’t been easy to find. Three stores were sold out. He’d finally bought the jumbo box at a gas station. Didn’t mean he planned to use them. At least, not all in one night. “You went all the way through Eagle Scouts with me. Tell me that being prepared hasn’t saved your hide more than once.”
“No argument here. But the whole family drilled me about how you’re so sensitive and moody that you might as well have PMS. I expected to find a box of tampons in the bathroom, not rubbers.”
“Very funny.” Hot and sweaty, Coop splashed through the low breakers until he could dunk himself. When he surfaced, spluttering, Brad was right there next to him. As were two kids sitting in oversized inner tubes, and three boys with boogie boards lined up in front of them. Coop kept on eye on them. One decent-sized wave could spell trouble for the tubers. He decided to bob for a while, now that he’d gotten used to the cold nip of the water, until they headed back to shore.
“I’m relieved you’re thinking with your dick again.” Brad kicked his feet up to float next to Coop.
“Right back at ya. Those weren’t smooth moves you used on Trina, but at least they were moves. Way to get back in the game.”
“She’s great. Spunky. Cute.”
“Uh huh. Don’t you really mean that she’s the complete opposite of your ex-fiancée?”
“Maybe. So what?”
Coop hated this. Hated that two of his sisters had texted him this morning with instructions on how to “handle” Brad. How to draw him out, boot him out of his doldrums and reset his self-esteem. And the dire threats of what would happen if Coop screwed up and made Brad even more sad. Courtney and Caroline probably wouldn’t approve of Brad attempting to fix himself by taking a couple of doses of a free-spirited strawberry blonde.
“So...Dana pretty much chopped your balls off and carried them off in her suitcase when she left.”
“You don’t need to remind me. I was less interesting than her career. She’d rather spend time racking up dollars than rolling in bed with me. I get it. But Trina doesn’t sound like she cares about a career. She’s just having fun. Running around, pretending to be a private eye, playing dress-up. She’s cute.”
“Yeah.” Just cute enough to get herself—and Darcy—into a whole lot of trouble. “And she seems to have the attention span of a goldfish. Are you ready to go straight from being engaged to being just a beach fling?”
“Wow.” Brad kicked none too gently at Coop’s
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