They agree and I walk off, but I have this strange feeling in my chest. I’m worried about Cole, obviously that was scary, but what I don’t like is the way Cole needed me. The way he wanted me to assure him and be there for him. It makes me think he is more than a jock wanting to get into my pants. I give my head a shake, needing to stay focused. Cole Davis, get out of my head.
Two
Holland
The doorbell rings. I figure Mary, our housekeeper, will answer it.
It rings again.
Dammit.
I pull myself away from my Kindle. I was just getting to an intense reveal in my fantasy novel. I trudge down our bifurcated steps and rush to the door. We don’t really get any company coming over, so it must be an Amazon delivery of my next novel. The delivery person must be a stickler about not wanting the package to go missing.
I get to the door. My dark hair in a messy bun on my head. I’m wearing a white T-shirt and light gray leggings. I look down to the ground expecting a golden-colored envelope, but my eyes land on a pair of Nike running shoes. Why is the delivery guy waiting? I look up to see that it isn’t a delivery guy. It’s Cole Davis holding a huge bouquet of fuchsia roses.
“Hi.” He waves.
“W-what are you doing here?” I ask, feeling thrown off by his presence.
“Uh, I kind of twisted Rebel’s arm to get your address,” he admits.
“Why?” My eyes drop to the bouquet in his hand and then back up to his green eyes.
Damn him for looking so hot in a simple black T-shirt and training shorts.
“Because you saved my life. I told Granny Mae how you saved my life and I was looking for a way to thank you. She said to start with flowers, so here I am,” he says, puffing out his chiseled chest a little. He’s placed extra emphasis on the word start so I wonder how else he plans to thank me. My mind goes to places it shouldn’t and I make a conscious effort to wipe those dirty thoughts away.
My heart melts at his sincerity. “You really don’t have to thank me, it was nothing.”
“It was everything,” he says, placing his free palm over his heart. “You seriously saved my life.” His eyes lock on mine. I don’t like the effect his gaze has on me. It makes me feel weak.
“Do you know what you’re allergic to?” I ask, needing to deflect the intensity of whatever this feeling is between us.
“Eggplant.” He nods. “I’ve never had it before. Apparently, Wolfe was trying to be fancy with his dinner so he got things we don’t normally eat.”
“Well, at least you know now,” I say.
“Yeah,” he agrees and passes me the bouquet. “These are for you.” It’s quite large and classically beautiful.
“Thank you.” I bring the flowers up to my nose and inhale. My stomach sinks a little when I think of how much my mom loved roses.
“Roses were my mom’s favorite flower. I figured since you saved her son, this is her way of thanking you too,” he says. Those are not words I expect to hear from ruthless asshole Cole Davis. He is usually slick on his feet and, well, a gorgeous prick who knows it. This side of him is disarming. “Say something.”
I can’t.
My throat clogs up.
“Are you okay?” He takes a step toward me.
I lift my hand. “I’m f-fine. Roses were my mom’s favorite flower too,” I say.
“Were?” he asks.
“She died when I was fifteen.”
He swipes a rough hand over his mouth. Now he looks choked up. “Mine died when I was sixteen,” he shares.
“That. . .”
“Yeah,” he answers like he knows exactly what I am feeling.
This is too much.
I’m finally able to take a breath and choke out the words, “Thank you for the flowers.”
“Thank you, Holland,” he says with a deep throaty tone.
I don’t like what’s happening here. I’m not doing feelings with Cole Davis.
“Okay, see you,” I say and as I’m about to close the door my housekeeper, Mary, comes up to the entrance.
“What magnificent flowers,” she says excitedly, clapping her hands together. “Aren’t you going to invite your friend in for some sweet tea? It’s a hot day and he was kind enough to bring you this lovely bouquet.” She eyes me and I can see what she is doing. She is really more than our housekeeper. She cared for me while Mom was sick. She berates me for not dating and having a life. This is her meddling.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Cole says. “But I best be going.”
“Don’t be silly,” Mary replies. “You come on in. It would be our pleasure.”
Speak for yourself.
Cole watches me and it is as if his eyes are asking permission. “Please come in,” I invite. I can’t help that my tone lacks enthusiasm.
“Sure.” He takes a step inside the house. “Nice place,” he says looking around.
Mary tells him to follow her and we all head to the kitchen where Mary takes two tall glasses out of a cabinet and then pours the tea.
“Well, I’ll leave you two alone.” She winks at me, thinking she’s done a good thing, and saunters out of the kitchen with a pep in her step.
“So,” I say. This is awkward.
“This sweet tea is really good. My mama was from Georgia so I grew up drinking sweet tea and this stuff is top-notch,” Cole says.
“My mama was from Charleston.”
“Mine was from Milton.”
I nod. We fall silent. Weird that both our mamas were from the South. A heaviness lingers in Cole’s gaze. I haven’t noticed it before and it gets under my skin. Whatever I’m feeling I need to close it down.
“So what are your plans for the weekend?” I ask, trying to come across as friendly. After the hospital, Rebel called me to check in and went on and on about how dinner was a fail. After all of Wolfe’s hard work preparing the meal, I kind of feel obligated to at least try to be friends with Cole. Besides, talking about Mama is not something I do. Especially not with a guy like Cole.
“I’m actually heading to Georgia on Sunday, but I’m pretty sure we’re having a party at the house tomorrow night,” he says.
“Nice. I haven’t been to Georgia since I was a kid.” Mama had taken Paris and me to South Carolina when we were younger and our grandparents were still alive. From there we drove to Myrtle Beach and Savannah. Paris and I loved the ocean and the sand. I remember it being a fun trip.
“It’s really nice. I love staying with Granny Mae. We have the best time,” he says.
I feel fidgety.
“Fun,” I clip. I don’t mean to be curt; I really want to try to be his friend but I feel myself building a wall. Probably because I’m attracted to the douchebag.
Cole watches me carefully. “Thank you for the tea and… uh… saving my life. Seriously. I had no clue about allergies and neither did Rebel or Wolfe. The doc said I could have died if you hadn’t administered that EpiPen.”
“It was really nothing,” I assure him.
“Okay then. I’ll get out of your way.” His teeth dig into his lower lip.
My gaze is drawn to his lips for the briefest of moments before I look him in the eyes and nod. He walks back to the front door and I follow him.
When he reaches the threshold, he turns. “You should come to our house Friday night. Rebel is coming. It’ll be fun,” he says, but something tells me that he has extended the invitation because he is trying to appease Wolfe by becoming friends with me.
“I’ll try. Thanks for the invite,” I say.
“Sure. And thanks again, Holland.” He leans in and gives me a soft peck on my cheek and my whole body heats from his touch. I try to think back to the hookup I had months ago with a guy from the football team and his touch didn’t set me on fire the way Cole’s does.
“Bye, Cole,” I say, and he looks at me again. I wonder what he’s thinking. Maybe that I have a black heart. Who knows? I don’t have time to care. I start my internship with Dr. Tahir
in just over a week and nothing is going to sidetrack me.
“Bye, Holland,” he says as he heads out to his SUV.
I try not to stare at his glorious ass as he gets into his car, but it’s hard not to. I close the front door and let out a breath.
Mary is waiting off to the side and she sees my reaction.
“Ah! Finally,” she sighs.
“What?” I ask, as if I don’t know what she is insinuating.
“Don’t fight it,” she advises.
But she’s wrong. I have to fight it. Getting mixed up with Cole is an awful idea. His reputation and my drive are basically negative ions repelling each other. I need to focus on med school. Not the hottest player on Westfall’s hockey team.
Three
Cole
I pull up the drive of the home I grew up in. I used to love coming home. That all changed when Dad married Amber. A twentysomething who clearly married him for his bank account. Now I avoid this place like the plague. Problem is, most of what I own is still in my old bedroom. I like keeping it this way for sentimental reasons, it’s the way Mom designed it, the furniture she wanted for me. That’s hard to let go of. Besides my room back at school is too small to hold all my belongings.
I turn the key in the front door lock and head in the door. I peek inside.
Coast is clear.
It’s the middle of the day on a Thursday and Dad is at work. I don’t know what Amber is up to and I don’t really care. I just need to pack for my annual summer vacay with Granny Mae. My flight leaves early Sunday and tomorrow night we’re partying it up. I didn’t really want to bump into Dad anyway.
I walk briskly across the marble floors and take the steps two at a time. There is staff that works in the house and know me, but they aren’t the same people I grew up with so I don’t really feel the need to say hi. My nanny, Bertha, and her husband, Edward, our butler left the day I moved out and started at Westfall.
My heart aches as I make it to the top of the steps and walk past the room that used to belong to my parents. A part of me doesn’t understand how Dad could bring Amber into that room. It makes me feel upset and angry. His lack of loyalty to Mom. I hadn’t expected him to remain celibate. I just. . .I don’t know. Maybe I expected him to be hurting more, like me.
I head into my room and walk directly into my walk-in closet. I pick up my two suitcases and walk them over to the bed where I splay them open side by side.
“Hi there,” Amber says. “I didn’t hear you come in.” I turn to see that she’s wearing a sport bra and short shorts. Her skin looks moist like she’s been working out or something and her smile is. . .flirtatious?
“Hi,” I answer curtly.
She saunters into my room. “Here, let me help you pack. Your dad said you were heading to Georgia. Maybe you could come over Saturday and have dinner with us. I’m sure it would mean a lot to your dad,” she says, and she takes a pile of shirts I placed on my bed and neatly places it in my suitcase.
“I didn’t ask for help,” I say to her.
“Come on, Cole.” Her bottom lip pushes out and she places her hand on my shoulder, then moves to caress me.
“Dammit, Amber, get your paws off me,” I bark.
“It’s so boring around here. Your dad gets home from work late and goes into the office early,” she complains, her voice whiny. Then it looks like a light goes off in her head and I fear what will come out of that mouth of hers next. “Aren’t you having any college parties this weekend? Oh, that could be so much fun.” She waves her hands in the air dramatically and when she stops her hands land on each of my shoulders. She gives me seductive eyes and I feel vomit crawl up my throat. Not because she isn’t hot, because Amber is stunning, but because she is my fucking stepmother. I’ve never put hands on a woman before but I physically remove her hands off me.
“That is a terrible idea. Do you even hear yourself? You’re married to my father. You’re not supposed to invite yourself to his son’s parties,” I scold, taking a large step away from her.
“But we’re friends, aren’t we?” she asks, and there is a part of me that believes her sincerity and wants to not think of her as a lying cheating. . .
“We are in fact not friends,” I clarify, placing each of my hands at my waist.
“In that case,” she says taking a few steps toward me. She pushes me in the middle of the chest and I must not be expecting it because I lose my balance and fall back on my bed. Amber pounces on top of me.
I grab her by the hands. “Let me say this in the simplest way I can. You and I are never going to happen. Get the fuck off me and don’t come near me ever again,” I grumble.
Tears prick her eyes and her lower lip trembles. She does in fact climb off me. When she is upright, I sit myself up. She adjusts her sports bra and her eyes narrow to slits. Then she huffs at me, turns on her heel, and leaves my room. This time I get off the bed quickly and lock my bedroom door.
I pace my room for a few minutes, trying to calm the fuck down. My heart beats fast and a sheen of sweat breaks out over my body. It makes me sick that my father married her only a year after Mom passed. Mom was this amazing classy woman; she was an attorney and did philanthropical work. How dad went from Mom to Amber boggles my mind. It makes me never want to settle down because, what is the point? Loved ones don’t stick around and they can clearly be replaced with basically anyone.
I continue to pack my things then grab my suitcases and head down the stairs. Truth is I am parched, but I don’t want to risk stopping for a glass of water in the kitchen and being accosted by Amber again, so I head straight out the front door without even stopping to lock it.
When I get in the car my cell rings. It’s Granny Mae.
“Hi, how are you?” I ask.
“Great. Because I’m waiting for you to come. I’ve been baking up a storm. Started freezing things because I’ve made so much,” she says, her voice warm and loving.
“I can’t wait,” I answer.
“What’s wrong, Cole?” she asks with that concerned but stern tone of hers.
I laugh. “How can you tell something is wrong?” I ask as I back out of the driveway and head onto the street.
“I can just tell. Now spit it out,” she orders.
“I was at the house picking up my suitcase and ran into Amber,” I begin. Granny Mae knows about the numerous times she’s hit on me. It started when I turned eighteen. Before that she would just try to flirt with me. I hate sharing these details with Granny Mae, but she pulled these secrets out of me a long time ago and has always insisted that I tell her everything.
I hear Granny Mae cussing under her breath.
“I’m fine. Told her to keep her paws off me. She had the audacity to try and invite herself to a college party,” I snicker.
“That woman is something else,” Granny Mae says.
“It’s fine,” I reply.
“Your daddy was hurting a lot when Catherine passed. I never saw him going for a young vulture like Amber, but you know we all grieve differently,” she says.
“I don’t know how you can defend him,” I answer. We’ve had this exact conversation probably a hundred times.
“You know what I’m going to say but I’ll say it anyway. Your dad was drowning in sorrow. He knew there was no way of replacing a lady like your mother so he didn’t even try,” she says.
“Amber was complaining he is never home,” I add.
“That doesn’t surprise me. Maybe he made a clouded judgment amidst the grief, but now he probably doesn’t know how to live with the consequences of his actions. We both know that a woman like Amber would take your father to the cleaners if he left her, and maybe he’s just happy enough to keep her as a side piece,” she says. I shouldn’t be surprised by her outrageous assumptions because it’s a part of what makes my grandmother an amazing person.
“That thought is making me nauseous. Can we please change the subject now?” I ask.
She giggles. “As long
as I know you’re okay.”
“I’m fine. I’m looking forward to seeing you.”
“Me too. Kiddo,” she says.
I give her my itinerary and tell her I’ll see her Sunday. I head back to Westfall feeling all wound up, so I drop off my suitcases at the house and go for a long run because I can usually clear my mind when running. Only this time my mind isn’t clear. I’m thinking of Holland and the fact she lost her mother. How did I not know that about her? But then again how would I know anything at all? Rebel is tight-lipped when it comes to her best friend. Holland may have gotten under my skin but it doesn’t matter. For obvious reasons I can’t just take her to bed because Wolfe and Rebel would want to serve my head on a platter. Their friendships mean everything to me, considering my only other close family is a plane ride away. And Holland is clearly not looking to hook up either. Shit! Why am I dissecting what I feel about Holland Donovan? She and I are clearly not happening. There’s a roadblock the size of the Grand Canyon between us. There is no way I want to cross it or break it down. I just need to get her out of my head, which seems easier said than done.
Four
Holland
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into coming,” I say to Rebel.
“It’s going to be fun. I got us a frozen margarita mix. I’ve never tried a margarita before, but it looked so good in the picture and the guys bought this crazy slip and slide thing from Amazon,” she says excitedly.
“So you think I’m actually going to take this cover-up off and slide down a wet surface?” I ask Rebel as we make our way into the house.
“Yes, that’s exactly what I think,” Rebel answers as we walk into Wolfe’s place.
“I drove here, which means I wasn’t planning on drinking,” I remind her.
“You can drink and just crash at my house,” Rebel says since she lives around the corner.
“I need to keep a clear head,” I insist. Even though I will be writing the MCAT a year from now, I still take the time to watch the Khan Academy videos to help me prep.
Ruthless Player: A College Hockey Romance (Westfall U Series) Page 2
