“She doesn’t like the way I look.” Coen laughed softly and shifted in the seat. “I noticed.”

I grimaced and rubbed at my forehead. “It doesn’t matter if she does or doesn’t. She obviously got over it. But that’s just it . . . to make it all the more confusing. My family—­who wanted nothing more than for me to start dating—­all about had heart attacks when they thought I was dating someone, and none of them were happy about it. But a ­couple hours later, my mom is taking my son for the night so I can spend time with you, and I have no doubt she’s going to be online picking out my wedding dress once he’s asleep.” I groaned and slapped my hand back on the steering wheel before I gasped in horror. “Not that we’re getting married! Jesus.”

Coen’s loud laugh filled my car, and I was positive I was bright red.

“God, just . . . act like I didn’t say that.”

“No can do, Duchess. It’s replaying in my head over and over.” He laughed when I groaned again, and after a few minutes said, “I get what you’re saying, but I’m going to be honest with you. I know we’re not really anything yet, but I’m just letting you know now that we won’t be anything at all if this is how it’s going to be. You being afraid to tell your family about me. You leaving me to answer the questions about us when you look like you’re going to throw up because I’m in the same room with them. I’m not gonna deal with that shit.”

“Coen, I’m sorry. I hadn’t been ready for that and I couldn’t figure out what to do. Part of me wanted to go into your arms, and the other part was terrified of how my family was going to react. And I just froze.”

He didn’t say anything for the next few minutes until I was in the parking lot of his studio, and next to his car. With a hard breath through his nose, he unclicked his seat belt and got out of the car.

My stomach clenched and my head dropped as I realized I’d somehow made this worse. I needed to learn how to shut up. My head snapped to the left when my door opened and he stepped back.

“Get out.”

“What?” I looked around the otherwise empty parking lot before looking back at him. “Why?”

“Just get out of the car, Duchess.”

I stumbled my way out, and gasped when he pushed me against the back door, pressing both his forearms on the window on either side of my head, caging me in.

“This is where you decide,” he said gruffly. “Hudson told me you were independent, and you just told me you get scared if you can’t do something by yourself. You didn’t have to tell me you don’t like ­people helping you for me to figure that out, but you’re not just stopping ­people from helping you, Reagan. You’re stopping anyone except from your family from getting too close. And that includes me.”

“But—­”

“You’re scared, that’s fine. But why can’t you just see where this goes, huh? For once, let someone else be in control. Let me be there for you, let me help you—­” He must have seen the panic in my eyes, because he quickly added, “by just being there for you. Like tonight. Was it so hard for you that I got Parker to eat the rest of his food? Did that make you feel like you didn’t have control of the situation? And don’t f**king lie to me, I need to know if I messed up by doing—­”

“No,” I whispered, and realized he was right. The same smile I’d had to cover in the restaurant was back, but this time, I just stood there staring at him in awe. “Watching you two together like that was . . . I don’t even know how to describe it, Coen. But not once did it bother me that you were trying to get him to eat. I—­to be honest, I loved watching you.”

Coen’s lips tilted up in a soft smile, and his dark eyes slowly moved over my face. “You need to make the decision. Do you want to try letting me in?” He leaned in close so his breath washed over my lips. “Letting me help you doesn’t mean you can’t do this alone, Reagan. Everyone knows you can, but you shouldn’t have to.”

“Coen . . .”

“Yes or no, Duchess.”

“Yes,” I said without hesitation, and moaned into his mouth when his lips met mine.

Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pulled our bodies closer and groaned my aggravation when his phone rang.

“Yeah?” he answered, and bit down on my bottom lip. “I’m kissing your sister, leave me alone.”

“I can’t believe you just told him that!” I huffed, and pushed back on his chest.

“Yeah, he’s probably going to kick my ass for that one.” Capturing my lips with his again, he ran his tongue along mine and whispered, “Don’t care. But they’re waiting for us at my place, so we should go.”

With one last soft, teasing kiss, he pulled back and I asked, “Why?”

“Uh . . . because then he’d just show up here and beat me up?”

I laughed and pushed against his stomach when he stole another kiss. “No, why did you do all this? It hasn’t even been a week since we’ve actually started talking, so why would you put up with me? I know I’ve embarrassed myself in front of you too many times to count since I first saw you, and we mostly argue, so why would you care to stick around to see what could happen? You could have your pick of girls, ones who wouldn’t have kids. I just—­I just don’t understand why you want to see where this goes so badly.”