Stone Cold Texas Ranger

So he’d found a way to have almost no recognition whatsoever. He’d gotten a strange enjoyment out of going undercover back in the day, knowing no one knew who he was related to.

“You are one screwy piece of work, Cooper,” he muttered, grabbing two cans of soup out of the pantry and digging up the can opener.

“Do you always talk to yourself?”

His hand flew to the butt of his weapon before he even thought about it. Before he recognized the voice, before he had a chance to smooth out the movement so Natalie wouldn’t know what he had meant to do.

Quickly he put his hands back to work opening the soup, and he purposefully didn’t look at her because he didn’t want to see that familiar look on her face. Jenny would cry for days after he had moments like that one, wondering why he couldn’t ever shut it off, that natural reaction.

Why the hell couldn’t he keep his mind off his past? Dad, Jenny. Why was it in his head, mucking things up when he had to be completely clearheaded and one hundred percent in the game right now?

“I’m heating some soup if you’d like some,” he offered, ignoring her previous question.

“Have you been awake this whole time?”

“Someone needs to remain vigilant.”

“You can’t stay awake forever.”

“No, I can’t. Which means at some point, I’ll have to trust you enough to take over the lookout position.”

He finally happened to glance at her, and she had her lips pressed together in a disapproving line. As though she was surprised to hear that he didn’t trust her. He’d been nothing but clear on that front. She shouldn’t be surprised.

“The only option for beverage is water, and you’re going to have to learn to live on the nonperishable staples in the pantry. I don’t think it’s safe to go to town, and certainly not worth it unless we absolutely have to.”

She finally walked from the little opening of the hallway toward the table that acted as the eating area.

She had visible bags under her dark eyes, and her hair was a tangled, curly mass. The smell of smoke drifted toward him even when they were yards apart.

“The soup will keep if you want to take a shower.”

“I don’t suppose there’s a washer and dryer around here, is there?”

“Actually, there is in the hall closet. As isolated as this cabin is, my sister isn’t one to do without the modern conveniences of life. We’ve got a good generator and plenty of appliances.”

She glanced at him then, some unreadable expression on her face. She scratched a fingernail across the corner of the old wooden table that had belonged to his grandparents decades ago. Lucy might be all up in the modern conveniences, but she had a sentimental streak that ran much deeper than his.

“Are you close with your sister?”

There was something in the way that she asked the question... Something that gave him the feeling he got when things on a case weren’t fitting together the way he thought they should.

There was something this woman was hiding. Even if she had nothing to do with The Stallion or Herman, there was something going on here. He needed to figure it out.

“Well, our careers make it pretty hard for us to spend time together, but we like each other well enough. Do you have a sister?”

Her downturned gaze flicked to his and then quickly back to the table again. There was something there. Definitely.

“We were very close growing up. But...”

“But what?”

“She’s...” Natalie swallowed. “Gone.”

And he was an ass. Her sister had died, and he was suspicious of this woman, who probably still had painful feelings over it. “I’m sorry,” he offered, surprised at how genuine it sounded coming out of him.

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