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“You are?”

“Yes, Macie. I am.”

“Oh. Well, that’s really sweet.”

She was met with more silence, so she filled it with some general observations of the houses they passed and the people who lived inside them. Once they turned onto the highway that would lead them to Coop’s ranch, she began discussing her thoughts on politics, then how she thought all of Adele’s songs sounded the same—as did John Mayer’s, which somehow led to her feelings about the latest Star Wars movie. Through it all, Coop nodded, but apart from a word here or there, he didn’t contribute much to the conversation.

Of course, that didn’t bother Macie. Left more room for her to talk. She wrapped the conversation up when they pulled in front of his house. She’d only been to his place a few times in the past—all of them right after Coop’s wife had passed away to bring him food and to visit for a bit.

She reached for her purse and opened the door, about to step out when Coop appeared, his hand reaching to help her down.

“Thanks,” she said, touched by his thoughtfulness. He owned a huge truck, the kind that made her feel like she needed a stepladder to get in and out of it. With any other guy, she probably would have made some joke or given the fella shit for overcompensating for lacking in other areas, but it was clear that was not the case with Coop. He was large, powerful, and intimidating—but not in a scary way. It made sense for him to drive this truck. Hell, he’d look ridiculous driving anything else.

Coop didn’t back up or give her space to walk away from the vehicle once she hit land again. Instead, he leaned closer and pressed her against the side of the truck.

His actions were so unexpected, she responded on instinct, licking her lips when there was no denying he planned to kiss her.

Macie struggled to catch her breath, to keep up with him. The past thirty minutes had been one what the hell? after another.

“You asked me why I wanted to go out with you.”

She nodded. “Yeah. I did.” And he hadn’t answered.

“This is why.”

Rather than offer an explanation, he kissed her, roughly, completely, thoroughly.

Macie’s hands flew to his shoulders, not to push him away, but to hold on for dear life. Good God, the man could kiss.

Coop wasn’t gentle about it either. His hands cupped her cheeks as his lips forced hers apart and his tongue swept in for a taste. Macie tried to breathe through her nose, going light-headed from the lack of air. Too much more of this and Coop’s tongue was going to know the inside of her mouth better than hers did.

Soon, the kiss morphed into something even more. Coop pressed his body more fully against hers, letting her feel his erection against her stomach. She wasn’t a small woman. At five-eleven, she was taller than quite a few of the men in town, and she wouldn’t describe herself as thin either. Her dad liked to refer to her as “sturdy,” which annoyed the shit out of her, even if it was true.

However, with Hank Cooper, she felt like one of those tiny ballerinas, petite, fragile. He towered over her by at least half a foot and the man was built like a brick house. His muscles were made the old-fashioned way, not with weights at a gym, but through hard work, and he was very good at using them to move her exactly where he wanted her.

Which apparently—at this moment—was pushed up against his truck as he gave her the hottest kiss of the century.

When he finally released her lips, he only moved away a few inches, his hot breath tickling her face.

She peered up at him. He’d kissed her senseless, but not silent. “So, just to recap…”

Coop chuckled. “I want to date you because I’m attracted to you, Macie.”

“Sexually?”

If he hadn’t been standing so close, she would have slapped herself on the forehead. With each passing minute, she was sounding more and more like a complete idiot.

“And intellectually. Don’t want you to think I’m only after you for your body.”

She snorted. “Thanks for clearing that up.”

He took her hand and led her toward his house. Once again, she let him lead the way, offering no resistance. She was starting to wonder what she would do if he bypassed the kitchen and dragged her straight to his bedroom. Part of her feared she’d walk right into that lion’s den and drop her granny panties without question, hairy legs or not.

Fortunately, Coop didn’t put her to the test. As they entered the kitchen, he pulled out a chair at the table and gestured for her to sit. She dropped down and took a few minutes to study her surroundings as Coop reached for a bottle of red wine, uncorked it, and poured two glasses.

The kitchen had a homey feel. There were vintage metal signs adorning one wall that advertised Dr. Pepper, Rice Krispies, and Armour Franks. There was a pretty green hutch against another wall and the cabinets appeared to be freshly painted—white—so the whole room was bright and cheerful.

“So you like to cook?” she asked.