“Yes, you do. Cole wants you here, which means we all want you here.”
“Correct.”
Cole appeared behind her. She hadn’t even heard his bedroom door open. She chewed on her lip when he briefly stroked a hand down her arm as he passed. It sent a frisson of pleasure scattering across her skin. The unexpected feeling both shocked and delighted her but, like Laurella said, Cole was a nice man with a large heart. She shouldn’t be reading anything more into his kindness toward her than that.
And… no men, remember?
But what if the feelings stirring inside at every look, every touch Cole sent her way were real? What if she could mine deep and find it within herself to trust again?
Cole passed her a glass of orange juice, jerking her away from her inner musings. “What’ll you have to eat?”
“I asked her that,” Laurella said before Millie could respond. “She blabbed on something ridiculous about going to the deli across the street. I told her we feed our guests.”
“But I’m not—”
Millie didn’t get to finish her sentence, because Laurella’s expression silenced her.
“If you’d rather go out for breakfast, we can do that,” Cole said. “But I should tell you, Laurella makes okay pancakes—for an Italian.”
Laurella rewarded him with a teasing slap to his arm. He laughed, dodging out of her reach. A warm feeling spread over Millie as she watched the banter play out between them.
“Okay, then,” she said quietly. “Pancakes it is.”
Laurella’s answering smile almost blinded her. “Bacon and eggs, too?” she asked.
Millie got the distinct impression it wasn’t really a question and so decided to give in. Looking after people clearly made Laurella happy. It had been a long time since anyone had fussed over Millie, and she had to admit it felt good.
“Sounds awesome. Over easy for me.”
Laurella busied herself in the kitchen. Cole took the seat next to hers. He went to say something, changed his mind, and then clearly changed it back again.
“Got any plans for today?”
“Um, no. I was actually going to get out of your hair. I’m sure you all have things to do, and you don’t need me cluttering up the place.”
He cocked a brow. “Did you want to walk the streets of Manhattan all day?”
A hint of a smile appeared on Cole’s lips. He was teasing her. She nudged him with her elbow.
“Not particularly.”
He grinned. “Good. Because I have just the thing to put some color into your cheeks.”
* * *
“You never told me you could sail?”
Cole took her hand and helped her onto the boat. She tried to ignore the scattering of goosebumps his touch sent careering up her arm.
“I couldn’t back then. Dad used to take me out occasionally when he had time. None of the others were interested, and Mom was scared of open water because she almost drowned as a child. But I loved it. When I joined the cadets, I took proper sailing lessons.”
Millie trailed her fingertips over the pristine white paintwork. “This was your dad’s boat?”
Cole nodded. “She’s a little old now, but I couldn’t bring myself to sell her on, even if I did have the cash to buy a new one.”
Millie chuckled. “I’ve always wondered why boats are a ‘she’.”
Cole set his bag on the deck. “I remember asking Dad that. I don’t think anyone knows for sure. One theory is that it’s all about the protective role females play in society and how that links to the ship protecting its crew.” He fondly touched the ropes for the sails. “Boats will always be ‘she’ to me.”
“What’s she called?”
“Rebecca. After my mom.”
For a moment, his strong, tough exterior dropped, and behind the pain in his eyes she saw the little boy who’d lost his mother at a key time in his life. She remembered their parents dying, of course. They’d held a minute’s silence before class when the news filtered through. When the boys had returned to school a few weeks later, he’d told her he didn’t want to talk about it. She’d honored his wishes.
She touched his arm, and once she laid her hand on him, she didn’t want to remove it, especially when his hand came over the top of hers. He stared out across the Hudson toward New Jersey, a muscle twitching in his cheek where, she guessed, he was clenching his teeth in an attempt to get a hold of his emotions. If she was braver, she’d pull him into her arms and give him a hug, but she wasn’t brave. She was a coward who’d put up with being treated like a doormat for a decade when she should have stood up for herself much earlier.
“I’m sorry you lost your parents,” she finally said when several minutes had passed without either of them uttering a word. Not that she minded silence. In fact, a lot of the time, she craved it. Tanner liked noise—loud music, slamming doors, yelling— everything he did was at a deafening volume. There was something about Cole’s quiet yet confident demeanor that was fast becoming like a drug to her, or at least an antidote to the woman Tanner had turned her into. Somewhere, deep inside, the girl she’d once been was still there, trying to get out. Now she had head space to think, she could hear that girl clear as day.
Cole slowly turned his head and looked at her. His eyes searched hers, flicking from one to the other, and he squeezed her hand. Caught in his gaze, like a fly trapped in a spider’s web, she couldn’t move. All the air in her lungs seemed to disappear, and her breath snagged in her throat. She briefly dropped her gaze to his mouth. Full, soft lips, slightly parted, called to her. She leaned forward and, with the lightest of touches, pressed her mouth to his.
A spark of electricity passed between them as she increased the pressure. Cole remained still. He didn’t pull her into his arms. He didn’t force her mouth open and thrust his tongue inside. He allowed her to control everything. She moved her lips over his, and he followed her lead. The gentle kiss lit a fire deep inside her, more powerful than any hard, passionate, slamming-up-against-the-hull-of-the-boat kiss would have been. Two people, both damaged in their own ways, seeking comfort in one another.
Cole shifted his position, squirming in his seat, and the warmth left her. She’d only found the courage to leave Tanner five weeks earlier, and yet already, she was kissing another man. What sort of a woman did that make her?
She pulled away and dropped her head. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, her gaze firmly fixed on the deck of the boat. “I just needed…”
Her voice trailed off, and she gnawed on her bottom lip. Goddammit, Millie. What have you done?
Cole gently coaxed up her chin until they were face to face once more, their mouths mere inches apart.
“Know what I need?” he asked softly.
She shook her head glumly.
“I need you to help me get the main sail up. We’re not going anywhere until she’s flying free.”
Her stomach vaulted. Was there a hidden meaning to him using those specific words? Even if there wasn’t, he’d given her a get-out-of-jail-free card. He must have read her discomfort. What a man. What an amazingly intuitive, beautiful man. She didn’t need to tell him what she needed, because he already knew. He’d put it so beautifully. She needed to fly free before she could leave her past and embrace her future.
She offered him a shy smile. “I’ve never done it before. You’ll need to give me very clear instructions.”
He playfully flicked the end of her nose. “That I can do.”
Cole was true to his word, and in no time at all, they were sailing down the Hudson. Oh, she could easily become addicted to this: the way the boat cut through the waves, sending a fine spray into the air, which dampened her clothing and hair; the sense of freedom, the belief she could do anything; the sight of birds flying overhead, their squawking competing with the noise of the waves crashing against the hull.
She tilted her head toward the sun, squinting into the bright light, even though she was wearing sunglasses. She closed her e
yes and allowed the rocking motion to soothe her. Cole called out the odd instruction, but mostly, he let her relax while he did all the heavy lifting.
The boat slowed, and she opened her eyes in time to watch Cole drop the anchor. Once he was certain the boat was secured, he opened the bag he’d brought with him and then laid a blanket on the deck.
“Hungry?” he asked, taking several food items out of the bag.
“Starved,” she said, sitting on the blanket. “Must be all this fresh air.”
“You’ve definitely got some color to your cheeks now.”
She pressed a hand to her face. “I’d better put on more sunscreen.” She applied the cream and then wiped her hands on a tissue.
Cole passed her a sandwich, and the two of them ate in comfortable silence. He handed over a bottle of water, even taking the care to loosen the cap first.
“So, what do you think of the love of my life?” he said, lying back and lacing his hands behind his head.
She followed suit. “She’s beautiful, Cole. I can totally see the allure.”
He twisted his head to look at her. “Freeing, isn’t it?”
She nodded. “Do you sail often?”
“Not as often as I’d like, but it’s a real stress-buster.”
She pulled in her lips. Realizing they were dry and slightly cracked from the sea air, she reached for her lip balm, dabbed a little on her mouth, and then returned the tube to her pocket. “Being a cop must be a very tough job.”
“It is. But it’s also very rewarding.”
She turned on her side and propped her head up on her hand. “Never wanted to make detective?”
He wrinkled his nose, his gaze firmly on the blue sky above. “Maybe, one day. For now, I’m pretty content where I am. I like being on the streets with the people, where I can make an immediate difference. If I ever settle down, have a family, maybe then I’ll want to move up the career ladder. But as that’s not even on the horizon, it’s moot.”
Her chest tightened, and a feeling close to disappointment swept through her.
“Well, whoever finally captures your heart is going to be a very lucky lady.”
He looked at her then. Something unreadable flashed in his eyes before his gaze shuttered. “Thanks,” he mumbled, clambering to his feet. “We’d better get going.”
He gathered the leftover food and drinks and stuffed them into a bag. Millie watched him with a frown. She got the distinct impression she’d screwed up somewhere, but hell if she could figure out where. Perhaps she shouldn’t have questioned him about his career, in case he’d read into it that she thought him some sort of failure because he wasn’t a high-flying hotshot like his twin brother. If he did think that, he was way off the mark. To her mind, there was nothing more noble than a police officer charged with protecting the public.
They sailed back to the mooring in virtual silence, apart from the odd instruction from Cole. He wasn’t rude—far from it—but the lighthearted teasing and warmth had gone.
She shouldn’t have kissed him. Sure, he’d kissed her back, but he could have done that out of politeness. It wasn’t like he’d been overcome with passion, unable to keep his hands to himself.
On the subway ride home, Cole stared into the blackness while they passed station after station. Millie sat quietly beside him, chewing on her thumbnail until it bled. She ended up stuffing her hands beneath her thighs to stop any further damage.
“Would you be willing to come sailing with me again?” he asked as they climbed the steps back onto the street.
She breathed a sigh of relief that he was talking to her again. “I’d love to. I’m a sailing convert.”
Her enthusiastic response seemed to further drag him out of whatever snit he’d been in because he offered her a broad grin. “Great. I don’t have a weekend day off for a while, but next time I do, I’ll let you know.”
“Sounds good to me.”
When they reached the hotel, Millie feigned tiredness and went straight to her room. She needed to try to process the events of the day, but she also wanted to give Cole and his brothers some space.
She settled on the bed with a book, but despite trying to read, she found she couldn’t concentrate because one thought kept swimming around her head.
That kiss…
Chapter 12
Cole walked into the bar to meet Draven. He’d missed him these last couple of weeks, not least because he wanted to sound him out about Millie.
Since their sailing trip, he’d kept his distance. When she’d kissed him, he’d dared to hope that, finally, he could tell her how he really felt. Then she’d trotted out that soul-crushing line about whoever he ended up with being lucky to have him. If that didn’t give him a message that she didn’t see herself fulfilling that role, he didn’t know what did. The kiss had meant nothing, at least to her—a way of thanking him for giving her a place to stay, for seeing off Tanner, for taking her sailing, maybe—who the fuck knew? Not him.
Keeping his distance didn’t stop the deep ache in his chest or the whirring inside his head that stopped him from sleeping at night as he strained to hear her breathing on the other side of the wall. Or how his thoughts strayed far too often to what it would be like to have her in his bed, lying beneath him.
He’d just taken a seat at the bar and ordered two beers when a large hand clapped him on the back.
“Sup, dickhead,” Draven boomed. Several people nearby glanced over. One look at the bearded, tattooed giant, though, and they couldn’t avert their eyes fast enough.
“My fucking dinner if you whack me like that again,” Cole said, unable to keep the grin off his face as they shook hands. “How did the vacay go?”
Draven shrugged out of his leather jacket and dumped it on the floor, because hanging it on the back of the chair was too much effort. He picked up a bottle and swung it by the neck in Cole’s direction.
“It went. Cheers.” He took a long swig, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Needed that.”
“Relatives, huh?”
Another swig, a swallow. A sigh. “Erika’s knocked up.”
Cole jerked his head back. “Erika? As in your sixteen-year-old sister, Erika?”
Draven nodded. “The very same.”
“Fuck… Is the guy still alive?”
His attempt at a joke worked, because Draven’s lips twitched. “Fucking little madam won’t tell us who the father is. Ma is working on her.”
“I’m not surprised she won’t fess up. She’s trying to save a life.”
“I wouldn’t actually kill him.” His lips pulled to the side. “I’d rip his fucking dick off, though, then make him eat it.”
Cole laughed. “And you wonder why she’s keeping her mouth shut.”
Draven gave a gruff laugh. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, enough of my fucking troubles, what’s going on with you? Managed to get into the lovely Millie’s panties yet?”
Cole laced his fingers together and rested them on the bar. “It’s complicated.”
Draven rolled his eyes. “I’m telling you, man. Think of your dick like a muscle. You don’t use that fucker, it’ll shrivel up and die.”
“I do use my dick.”
“Yeah, to piss out of. That doesn’t count.”
“Fuck off.”
Draven threw back his head and guffawed. “Round one to me. Seriously, though, have you made any inroads, or are the goods still strictly off limits?”
Cole brought Draven up to speed about Tanner, Millie confessing the years of abuse, her moving into the hotel, the sailing trip. The kiss.
And then the brush-off.
By the time he’d finished, there’d been one good outcome: Draven had stopped ribbing him about his underused equipment.
“That’s a lot of shit to go down. Christ, I was only away two weeks.”
“Tell me about it,” Cole agreed.
“Has the husband been around since?”
“No. At least not that I’m awa
re of.”
“And like a complete pussy, you’ve avoided talking to her about why she kissed you.”
“I’ve given her space,” Cole said.
Draven coughed out a “Bullshit.”
“Okay, Casanova. How would you handle it?”
Draven played with his beard while he considered Cole’s question. “I’d ask her straight up why she kissed you. No point fucking about.”
He could do that, but what if he broached the subject and opened himself up to a world of hurt because she admitted it had been a fucking big mistake? But then the uncertainty of not knowing was driving him crazy. The big bastard was right, not that Cole enjoyed admitting it too readily.
He let out a sigh. “Okay, I’ll talk to her. Tomorrow.”
* * *
Cole woke on Saturday morning with a slight hangover and a firm resolve. He’d decided to ask Millie if she wanted to go out for breakfast. He couldn’t exactly have this conversation here. Too many potential interruptions, especially as it was the weekend. He’d rather have waited until the evening and take her out for dinner, but he had a twelve-hour shift beginning at four that afternoon.
He showered and dressed. Opening his bedroom door, he found the living room unusually empty. With a hope they could escape before the rest of his family descended, he tapped on Nate’s bedroom door.
“Millie, you in there?”
Footsteps padded across the floor. She drew back the door.
“Oh, hey. Aren’t you working today?”
“Later on. I wondered if you wanted to grab some breakfast? Sorry I’ve not been around much. I’ve been working back-to-back shifts.”
Liar.
A definite look of relief crossed her face. “And there was me thinking you’d been avoiding me.”
I have. And seeing your relief, I deserve a punch in the face for it.
“So, breakfast?” he repeated, ignoring her correct assessment of his behavior since the sailing trip.
“Sure. Let me get my sneakers on. Come on in.”
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