He huffed and puffed, feeling more and more like a blustering idiot. Finally, he made himself shut up. “Fine!” he said, exactly like a sulky teenager. “Have it your way.”

But even as he stormed out, he knew what he had to do.

10

Her car wouldn’t start! Of all the mornings for this to happen, why did it have to be today? Faiza sat in the passenger seat, clutching her precious passport and darting nervous glances at the cars traveling past Piper’s old condo building. If it weren’t for Coop and his counterfeit Super Bowl ring, Faiza’s employers would almost certainly ignore her defection. Still, Piper couldn’t fault Coop for what he’d done. She’d imagined his celebrity status would be enough to get the prince to hand Faiza over as a gift, but Coop understood wealthy egotists better than she did. A bad miscalculation on her part.

While Faiza gnawed at her bottom lip, Piper poked around under the hood of her Sonata, but it wasn’t until she inspected the fuse box that she saw the problem. A couple of the fuses were missing. Who the hell had—?

A car stopped next to her, window down. “Get in.”

It was Coop, sitting behind the wheel of a silver Audi sedan and looking like the king of the city. “You did this!” she exclaimed. “Where are my fuses?”

“I’ll give ’em back when I’m ready,” he drawled.

He got out of his car and opened the passenger door of her Sonata. “Good morning, Ms. Jamali. I’m driving you ladies to Canada today.”

“No!” Spending hours in a car with him would take too much work on her part. She didn’t want him to be decent. She wanted him to keep on being the self-absorbed, arrogant, entitled jock she’d invented in her head when she’d first started to follow him.

But Faiza was glad to see him and eagerly transferred cars, leaving Piper with no option other than to follow. He overrode Faiza’s protests about sitting in the Audi’s front passenger seat and relegated Piper to the rear. She snatched up the seat belt. “Not only am I perfectly capable of driving to Minnesota by myself, but I guarantee I’m a better driver than you.”

“How do you figure?” he said as he pulled away.

“I’ve been following you, remember? You’re hard on the brakes, you tailgate when you get frustrated, and in general, you’re too aggressive. I, on the other hand, am trained in evasive driving, ambush avoidance, and offensive contact driving.”

“Impressive, but I don’t get speeding tickets. I happen to know you can’t say the same.”

“Only because there’s not a cop in the state of Illinois who’s going to give a ticket to the great Cooper Graham. But let’s see how the Wisconsin Highway Patrol feels about you when we cross into Packers territory.”

“Even there,” he said smugly. “When you’re a big-name athlete like yours truly, you can get away with just about anything.”

“Life is so unfair,” she muttered. “And where’s your Tesla?”

“In the garage. It has to be recharged about every three hundred miles, so road trips require some planning.”

“Whose car is this?”

“Mine.”

She forced her teeth to unclench. “How many do you have?”

“Only two. Unless you count my truck.”

“Why do you need a truck?”

“Haul stuff. Every man needs a truck.”

She sighed and started picking the fuzz off her sweater.

As they drove toward the Wisconsin border, Faiza told them about her conversation with her aunt the previous night. Coop used all the charm he never bothered to expend on Piper to chat with her. Faiza maintained her modesty, not looking directly at him, but she clearly adored him. Only as he ventured into politics did Faiza grow fiery.

“The word Islam means ‘peace, purity, submission, and obedience,’” she said. “What has terrorism to do with any of those things?”

They talked more about the Middle East, about food and music. Near Madison, they ordered lunch at a Burger King drive-through. Faiza was enchanted with the idea of getting a meal through a window. Coop refused Piper’s money, as well as her offer to take over the driving. “If you get any ketchup on my seat covers, I’m leaving you by the side of the road,” he said.

Faiza took his threat seriously and promised she’d be very careful. “Not you, Faiza,” he said. “Only her.”

“You do not like Piper?” Faiza sounded genuinely distressed.

“It’s complicated,” he said. “You see, Piper’s crazy in love with me. I have to keep her at a distance.”

Piper snorted.

“Oh, no,” Faiza cried. “Piper is not crazy. She is very intelligent.”

This launched Coop into an explanation of American slang. By the time they’d cleared the Wisconsin Dells, he’d taught Faiza not to take words like crazy or awesome literally, as well as explaining the meanings of cool, chill, hang, and What up?

Faiza’s giggles made Piper’s heart sing, so she was shocked at how peevish she sounded when she said, “Knowing American slang won’t do her much good in Canada.”

“They have American television in Canada,” he pointed out.

Piper was ashamed of herself. Just because she’d been feeling left out was no reason to be so churlish.

Like most men, Coop hated to stop the car, and she accused him of timing them when she and Faiza ran into a service station restroom.

“Glancing at my watch doesn’t mean I was timing you,” he said righteously.

She gave him the hairy eyeball. “How long did we take?”

“Six minutes and thirty-two seconds.”

As irritating as she sometimes found him, he could still make her laugh.

“Buckle up, ladies,” he said. “This spaceship is taking off.”

They reached Duluth midafternoon, and he finally let Piper take the wheel—mainly because she was sitting behind it when he reappeared from his own restroom trip. “Five minutes, fifty-two seconds,” she said. “You’re holding us up.”

Faiza giggled from the backseat.

“Four minutes tops. You’re lying.” But he climbed into the passenger seat without protesting.

The wild beauty of Minnesota’s North Shore, with its rocky bluffs, cobblestone beaches, and breathtaking views of Lake Superior, was a well-kept secret from most of America, but Duke had brought Piper to the North Shore on several camping trips when she was a kid, and she’d always loved the area. The signs they passed for fried walleye, smoked whitefish, and wild rice pancakes made her desperately miss the old chauvinist with all his flaws and all his love. Coop was more taken with the advertisements for homemade pies.