Mona finished. Promised she would return shortly.
The lights came on. Natalie wiped more tears. “God, she gets me every time.” She gave me a playful nudge with her elbow.
Temptress.
I excused myself to the restroom. I stopped at the bar. Ordered a shot. Then made my way to the men’s room.
Martin was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he’d gone outside for a smoke. He was notorious for falling into old habits after a drink or two. Be it nicotine, women, or bad decisions.
When I returned to our table, Vic was typing on her phone. Martin and Natalie sat close, having a private conversation. He rubbed her thigh. She seemed to like his attention. Good.
Natalie King was less attractive in my best friend’s arms.
Six drinks. Three sets of sultry love songs.
One Uber ride home.
Victoria helped me to bed.
The last thing I remembered was tasting cigarettes on her lips and asking when she’d started smoking.
I woke to an empty bed again. In an empty house, the brick Georgian Colonial I’d bought for my bride-to-be in the Madrona neighborhood.
A note on the kitchen counter read: Hangover cure in the fridge. See you tonight. XOXO, Vic.
I wadded the scrap paper, made for the garbage, then sucked in a breath, flattened the crumpled note, and stuck it in the drawer where every note from Victoria landed.
She called it a junk drawer.
I called it sentimental safekeeping.
Whatever.
Fuck the hangover cure. I dressed and went for a run, heavy metal blasting through my earbuds, the angry gray sky blanketing our neighborhood in a damp winter chill.
Breakfast. Shower. Shave.
I briefly considered checking on Martin, but then I’d have to hear about Natalie. Didn’t want that siren on my mind because, fuck, she was like a tiny gnat with a mighty roar buzzing around my head, and that woman was not welcome in my head.
I dialed Ellis, hoping he’d be up for a spar. “Hey. Heard you had a great night. Sorry we couldn’t make it.”
“No worries. What’re your plans today?”
“Heading to Bainbridge, hanging with my parents for the day. Wanna join us?”
“Nah. Got work to do. Thanks, bud. Have fun.”
“See you Monday?”
“Yep.”
I ended the call.
My phone rang. Victoria. Tension eased, and I settled into my couch. “Morning, beautiful.”
“How are you feeling?”
I huffed. “Like shit. You should be in bed with me. Where’d you go?”
“I reminded you last night, don’t you remember? Lauren’s cousin, Cora, owns that bridal shop in Portland. I told you about her a couple weeks ago. Anyway, she said she’d open her store just for us today. Catered lunch. Drinks. We’re making a day of it.”
I rubbed the ache in my temples. “It’s Christmas Eve tomorrow. You’ll be home tonight?”
We’d yet to decorate, both too busy.
“Not sure. If we have too much to drink, we’ll crash at Cora’s, head home in the morning.”
“Yeah. Okay.” I looked around my empty living room, the home I’d bought for my fiancée. The home she’d decorated to impress the friends who rarely visited. The white paint. Velvet couch. Art by some artist whose name I couldn’t pronounce hanging on the walls. Not much in the way of personality. Nothing inviting. Or maybe my hangover was worse than I thought. Maybe I was tired of living alone in the home built for a family.
“And Cole?” Her voice softened, a silky seduction.
“Yeah?”
“Mom and Dad just called. I’m gonna head to Hawaii with them next week. Spend some quality time before I get too busy with the wedding.”
Too busy? I refrained from laughing. We rarely spent time together as it was.
I waited for an invitation that didn’t come, then said, “I’ll see if Martin’s available to pilot the plane.”
“He is. I asked him last night.”
Of course, she did. While I was too drunk to pay attention. “I’ll call ahead and make sure the condo is stocked.”
“You’re the best, sweetheart.”
I wasn’t. But I would be better because my future wife deserved the best version of me. “Be safe today. They’re predicting snow.”
“We will.” She sighed. “Gotta go.”
“Victoria?”
“Yeah, babe?”
“Love you.”
“You, too. See you tomorrow.”
The call ended. My phone made a disappointing sound as it crashed into the wall and landed on my shoe. I must’ve kicked them off last night, as one sat wonky against the wall, the other under the side table.
I had a good relationship with my future in-laws, but Victoria was always hesitant about sharing them. Didn’t make sense.
The last thing I wanted was to be stuck alone with my thoughts. Options limited, I fired up the flat screen and settled into a mind-numbing click, click, click.
When I passed a black and white clip, I paused. A familiar tune passed through the speakers. “The Christmas Song” by Nat King Cole. My heart raced. Head pounded. Thoughts of Natalie danced through my aching skull.
Two more bars into that wretched song, I hit the Power Off button and tossed the remote.
Shit.
God was testing me. Had to be.
I was not in love with Natalie. I couldn’t even be in like. I didn’t know the woman.
Her smile was a ruse.
Her laugh a curse.
Her skin a guise.
Her eyes a seduction.
A test.
And I was fucking failing.
I wouldn’t fail. I was engaged. I was committed to Victoria.
Natalie
“Wow. You’re everywhere, aren’t you?”
I stopped cold. Shivered at the tone. Turned.
Cole sat at the corner table, black thermal hugging his strong arms, dark jeans encasing his thick thighs, well-worn boots on his feet. Half-finished plate in front of him. Dimples on full display.
For the love of God, I needed a distraction.
My heart skipped a beat when I forced my gaze to his plate and spied the strips of steak. “Crying Tiger. Good choice. One of my favorites.”
Dropping his fork to his plate, he asked, “You know what this is?”
With a nod, I answered. “Have to order it special.”
“You’ve been here before.” He twirled a small metal object in his right hand between his thumb and forefinger.
When he caught me looking, he leaned back and tucked the trinket into the front pocket of his jeans.
“Many, many times,” I said, taking in the room. Sage green walls. Dark, refurbished wood. Amber mood lights. A hidden gem. My hidden gem.
“Must be fate.” He smirked.
“Fate?”
With a shrug, he said, “Us bumping into each other.”
“I don’t believe in fate.” Much to my mother’s dismay.
“What do you believe in?”
“Hard work.” His fiancée taught me that lesson, relentless in telling me I’d never graduate college, let alone find a man willing to take care of me. I’d proven her wrong. I’d taken care of myself.
Cole considered my answer, nodded to the chair across from him. “Join me.”
A dinner alone with Cole would only lead to bad, bad things. “Oh, gosh. That’s nice, but I was planning on curling up on my couch with a good movie.” I lifted my arm in case he hadn’t noticed the to-go bag dangling from my fingers.
“Natalie. Don’t make a guy beg. I hate eating alone. Besides, it’d be a shame to hide in your apartment when you look so pretty.”
I looked down at my denim jacket, thigh-length sweater, worn leggings, and Moto boots. I hadn’t washed my hair all weekend, and forget about makeup.
“It’s cold and dreary outside. I just want to take off my bra, curl up on the couch, and binge wat
ch Ray Donovan.” And pout, I left unsaid, feeling sorry for myself because Lacey had spent every waking moment with Ellis since the day after Christmas.
“Sounds fun.” He gave me a once-over, not inappropriate by any means, more like he was trying to figure me out. “But here, you can eat with a quasi-handsome gentleman who happens to be good at conversation.”
He made a good point. And he was far more attractive than Liev Schreiber, and that was saying a lot. “Okay. Yeah. Why not?” I made myself comfortable in the chair opposite Cole’s and arranged my Styrofoam containers on the table, popping the lids and savoring the garlic aroma.
“And for the record, you’re more than quasi-handsome,” burst from my lips like a shaken can of soda exploding all over the room, leaving a sticky mess.
“Yeah?” he countered with double dimples, knocking me for a loop.
“Definitely.” Good Lord! I couldn’t stop myself, and I needed to stop.
He belonged to another. Victoria of all people. The scar on my forehead itched, a sobering reminder of the situation.
Rubbing the annoying tingle with the back of my hand, I asked, “Buy any new buildings today?”
A sly grin. “As a matter of fact, I did.” His eyes sparkled, swirling with pride.
“You should be celebrating.”
“I am.” His gaze slid to the table.
He was lonely. Just like me. God, how I wanted to throw my arms around that solid neck and kiss some joy back into his sullen gaze. Instead, I asked, “This is celebrating?”
“Sure.” He gestured to his food, then me. “Good food. Great company.”
Our gazes locked for longer than appropriate, and I heated in places that should be immune to his charm.
Cole cleared his throat, breaking the spell. “I don’t enjoy going out. I’d rather stay in, celebrate on the couch with a good movie, cold beer, my lady, clothing optional, of course.” He shot me a wink.
I tried to dodge the damn thing, but he gave good flirt, and that wink, innocent or not, hit my chest dead center.
Won’t lie. I liked that he flirted with me. I loved that Victoria’s fiancé was paying attention to me, the girl she’d tormented, the girl she’d stolen friends and boyfriends from, the girl she’d tried to break.
Were I a lesser woman, I would’ve played our mutual attraction to the bitter end, taken a bat to Victoria’s chance at a happily ever after.
But I wasn’t that person.
I would not continue the cycle.
I would deflect the flirt.
“Martin talks about your exciting adventures all over the world, all the fancy parties, swank hotels, and whatnot.”
Cole’s grin faded. The mention of his best friend, whom I happened to be dating, deflated our nice little bubble.
Leaning closer, he confessed, “Honestly? The guys love that shit, so I go along for the ride.”
“And you front the bill.”
He quirked his head, thrown by my blatant observation. “Martin tell you that?”
“No. Figured that one out all on my own.”
“They’re not using me if that’s what you think.”
“I don’t.” I didn’t believe his friends were using him, anyway. Victoria? Entirely different story.
“Good. It’s not like that between us. We grew up together. Been through hell and back together. I have more money than I can spend in two lifetimes. If they want to blow off steam once in a while, I’m happy to oblige.”
“Yeah. I could tell that about you.”
“How?”
“You’re swimming in dough, yet you’re sitting in this hole in the wall while your fiancée is on her way to Maui with your best friend via your private jet.”
“That’s his jet, not mine.”
“No, it isn’t. It’s yours. Martin told me you like to say it’s his since he’s the only person you let pilot the damn thing.”
“Okay, fine. Busted.”
“You don’t need to talk him up, ya know. I like him already.”
Cole hit me with a hard, unfocused glare. “He’s a good guy.” He blinked. Nodded. Poked at his rice. “Needs to find a good woman.”
Sinful, I know, but I didn’t want Victoria or Martin soiling my conversation with Cole, so I changed the subject matter to more mundane topics. He wasn’t only gorgeous to the eye, he was beautiful on the inside, too, and fun to talk with. I learned about his favorite charities. There were seven that he supported. His music depended on his mood. Lime green was his favorite color. We both hated cats, but while Cole loved big dogs, I was partial to smaller breeds. He moved back to Seattle to raise his family close to his parents, whom he seemed to love and respect deeply.
Cole didn’t look at his cell once throughout dinner. My phone buzzed relentlessly. Unknown caller. If I answered, a certain jilted lover would be on the other end.
“You sure you don’t need to get that?” Cole asked, collecting our garbage from the table.
“I absolutely do not want to answer those calls.”
He stood taller, searing me with the heat of his glare. “Your ex still bothering you?”
I melted into a puddle on the worn linoleum, exhausted by the turn my life had taken since the whole coffee shop incident. “He’s relentless.”
Cole stared long and hard, a thousand questions dancing in his eyes, his fingers tightening around the plate he held. “File a restraining order?”
“No,” fell like a lead weight from my lips, landing between us with a dull thunk, and I stared at the floor, feeling the fool.
“C’mon.” He stood and made his way to the trash bin. “I‘ll walk you to your car.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary. I live just around the corner.”
“Then I’ll walk you home.” His hand landed on the small of my back, urging me toward the exit, leaving no room for argument.
Cold, damp air blasted through my too thin jacket. My shivers, though, had nothing to do with the temperature and, shamefully, everything to do with the man holding the door open.
Cole walked me home. We stood outside my building and talked for another half hour, speaking nothing of consequence, sharing friendly banter.
It wasn’t until I entered my apartment that I realized I’d used the front entrance to my building for the first time in ages. And I hadn’t looked over my shoulder all night.
“Thanks for dinner, Nats. That was amazing.” Martin tossed the dishtowel in the sink, hooked an arm around my waist, yanked me flush against his hard body, and doused me with kisses, starting at my cheek, traveling down to my neck, then to my collar bone.
“You’re welcome,” came out breathy and hopeful.
He hovered over my breasts and lifted his eyes to mine, brows quirked in a silent plea for permission.
I lifted my chin, allowing him access.
Warm hands slid under the hem of my blouse, then traveled upward, his thumbs blazing a trail over the lace covering my tight buds.
I ached with need. But it wasn’t Martin’s touch I craved.
He moved one hand to the button of my jeans.
God, how long had it been since a man had made me orgasm?
Martin had yet to get me into bed. We’d started many intense make-out sessions that always ended before the fireworks began. His phone would ring, calls from work. He didn’t have condoms. I had my period. New Year’s Eve had been a dud—he drank too much and passed out on his couch the second we got back from a ridiculously lavish party Ellis had invited us to attend.
Funny thing? I was always relieved.
Still. We had fun, though I never got the feeling I was a priority. His cell rang all hours of the day, and he was often called away at the drop of a hat.
Maybe that’s what I liked about Martin. He wasn’t clingy. And Lord knows, I’d had my fill of clingy men.
But I was a woman with needs, and as he worked my jeans open, then down my hips, I shivered with anticipation, because I was finally, finally going to get some mu
ch needed relief.
Martin was attractive for sure. And if he made love like he kissed, I was in for a treat.
He helped me disrobe, then hoisted me onto his counter, the gray quartz cold on my backside.
His khakis had made it to his ankles when his phone buzzed.
Face flushed, he huffed, “Jesus. Fuck. I’m sorry. Gotta take this,” then dropped a kiss on my nose, righted his pants, and left me naked in his kitchen.
Bits and pieces of his conversation drifted my way and went something like, “Yeah. No. No. Not busy. Tonight? Fuck yeah. Does he know? Sure. Sure. I know. I know. No. No. No. Come on. What do you think?” He huffed. “You know that can’t happen. Okay, I’ll be there. Bye. No. Bye.”
Martin found me in the same position he’d left me. He scrubbed a hand through his thick hair. “So sorry. Have an emergency flight to Georgia.”
“Tonight?”
He stepped between my legs, pulling me against his arousal. “Be back day after tomorrow. We’ll go somewhere special.”
“Sure.” I shoved him away before he could claim my mouth, then dropped to my feet.
“I’m sorry, Nats. It’s my job. I’ll make it up to you.”
“No worries. Really.” On with my jeans.
“You’re mad.”
Duh. “I’ll be fine.” Hook the bra. Shirt next. “This works out great, actually. I’ve got a super busy weekend planned, and now I don’t have to worry about juggling my time.” I shoved my feet into my Uggs, snagged my handbag off the coffee table, and made my way to the door.
Martin stopped me, palm to the wood, towering above me, worried eyes meeting mine. “What kind of plans?”
“Girl stuff.”
A strong hand curled around my neck, thumb caressing. “I’m sorry, baby.”
He didn’t get to call me baby. Baby was a term of endearment reserved for lovers. Soft and slow, I gripped his wrist and pulled his arm away from me. “No need to be sorry. It’s your job. I understand.” I gave his shoulder a quick rub. “Fly safe.”
Martin leaned in for a kiss. I slid to the left, slipped through the door, and threw over my shoulder, “Good night. See ya’ around.”
L.O.V.E. Page 6
