by Piper Rayne
We eat in silence for a few minutes, but Cole keeps glancing over at me.
“Just ask.”
“What?” he says, feigning ignorance.
“I can tell there’s something you want to say. Just say it.”
He purses his lips together for a moment. “You seem very close with your grandparents.”
Immediately I know what he’s getting at and I decide to save him from coming right out and asking. “My grandparents raised me.”
“Oh,” he says. I hear the unanswered questions he’s too afraid to ask and I feel the need to explain.
“My mom isn’t in my life. Hasn’t been since I was an infant and she left me with her parents then never returned.” I put my sandwich down to the side of me, quickly losing my appetite as the sting of that rejection bites into my chest. After all these years, you’d think I’d be used to it.
Cole reaches a hand out and places it over the top of the one I have sitting in my lap, giving it a small squeeze. “I’m sorry. That’s tough.”
I shrug. “I was lucky really. Rather than being stuck in some orphanage or foster home I had family to go to. My grandparents are amazing. I owe them so much.”
“What about your dad?” There’s hesitancy in his tone, but there’s no sense in hiding anything now.
“I don’t know who my dad is. My grandma told me once that she wasn’t even sure if my mom ever knew. I guess she was quite the free spirit.”
“So that’s why you share the same last name as your grandparents…”
“You picked up on that, did you?” I’m impressed. Most people don’t even give it any thought that I have the same last name as my mother’s parents.
“Not at the time. I’d just assumed they were your dad’s parents.”
I shrug. “Hard to take the name of someone when you don’t even know who they are.”
He’s quiet after that, reflective. I shift my positioning and swing my legs back and forth, waiting for him to say something.
“It couldn’t have been easy growing up without your parents in your life.” His voice is filled with so much sympathy that it pierces a layer of my hardened heart. Which is ridiculous, because this is not news to me. It’s something I’ve lived with and thought I’d made peace with decades ago.
I swallow past the growing lump in my throat before I answer. “I’ve never known any different,” I say, trying to play my emotions off.
Cole shifts his body so that he’s straddling the low concrete barrier we’re sitting on. He’s facing me now. God, he’s gorgeous. Like we’re magnets drawn to each other, my own body angles to his in response.
He reaches forward and clasps both my hands in one of his. His other hand cups the side of my head, his thumb tracing a slow path back and forth across my cheek.
I close my eyes for a moment and when I open them Cole is only a few inches away. His hazel eyes are locked on mine and my heart picks up pace. When he drops his forehead to mine my fingers itch with the need to touch him and so I do. Slowly I reach forward and place my hands on his hard pecs. His muscles flex under my touch and Cole lets out a short burst of air as if in relief. It fans over my face and I become more aware of his scent. Yes, it’s partly the masculine cologne he wears, but it’s also in a lot of ways just him. His own natural scent and I realize for the first time how addicted I’ve become to it.
“Just because you don’t know what you’re missing doesn’t mean it didn’t leave any scars,” he says in a soft voice.
Tears pool in my eyes, but I refuse to shed them. I don’t know why I’m letting myself get so worked up. I feel safe and free to be vulnerable with Cole and vulnerable is something I don’t do.
“Whitney, where are your scars?” Both his hands thread through my hair, holding me to him.
“Whit,” I practically whisper.
“What?”
“You can call me Whit now.”
He groans like I’ve just granted him everything he ever needed and without warning, he brings his lips to mine. His tongue traces a path along the part of my lips and, unable to resist, I open to him. Our tongues slide and my breath hitches, stalling out somewhere between my chest and my throat. The slow exploring kiss soon turns hot from our undying need to quench the thirst that’s been brewing.
He releases my hands and cups my cheeks with his palms. I let my hands roam from his pecs to his strong back. His fingers weave through my hair making a tight fist. Cole’s teeth nip at my bottom lip before his tongue slides back into my waiting mouth.
Fireworks explode in my veins and the incessant throbbing between my legs demands to be sated. The kiss is so euphoric, Cole is throwing all the baggage I carry over the edge of this peak. If there was a bed and a mattress handy I’d allow him to strap me to the headboard to see what those lips can really do. No questions asked. No thoughts about the aftermath.
When Cole finally pulls away his hands are still in my hair and we sit there, both of our chests heaving while we try to gather air into our lungs. Our gazes take each other in.
“Where are your scars, Whit? I want to see them.” He runs his nose along my own. “All of them.”
I don’t even think before I respond, don’t filter my response to the bland, rehearsed one I normally would. “When someone who’s supposed to love you treats you as if you’re disposable, it’s difficult not to see your value as less than nothing.”
Cole squeezes his eyes together like I’ve caused him physical pain. When he opens them, he pulls back just enough to pin me with his stare. “You are so much more than nothing, sweetheart. You’re the opposite. You’re everything.”
He leans in and kisses my forehead, his hand at the back of my head.
“It’s okay to lean on someone,” he mumbles against my skin before pulling back to look at me. “Sometimes. When it’s the right person.” He brushes his thumb over my bottom lip, stares at me for another second.
“Excuse me… could one of you take a picture of us with the view of the city behind us?”
Both of us separate quickly with wide eyes as if we’ve just been caught doing something we shouldn’t have. And I suppose that’s true.
I turn to see a middle-aged couple beside us holding out a camera toward us.
“Uh, sure.” Cole gets up off the ledge and follows them a little farther down the railing, where they strike a pose for the camera. He takes a few shots, directing them a little to make sure they get the best picture, and then returns the camera to them. They thank him before heading on their way.
Without mentioning the kiss, he returns and takes his seat beside me, picks up his sandwich and continues eating his lunch like nothing of consequence just happened. And maybe it didn’t for him.
But my entire world just shifted beneath me the same as if another catastrophic earthquake struck the city.
We both gaze out over the city while we finish eating. The fog rolls in off the Pacific Ocean, swallowing the Golden Gate Bridge until just the red steel tips are visible. I feel a lot like that bridge—everything I see, feel, and touch seems to be Cole. I’m surrounded by him, overcome and overwhelmed every time I’m around him, and I’m left gasping for air, barely surviving the deluge that is this man’s power over me.
16
I sit in the booth at the pub—not the Thirsty Monk, but a different one around the corner from my grandparents’ house—waiting for Lennon to show.
She’s late. No surprise there.
I asked her to meet me here because Tahlia is still out of town dealing with a business crisis and I need to talk to her about what’s going on with Cole. Or isn’t. I don’t know what to think given how he acted after that kiss at Twin Peaks. Lennon has more experience with the opposite sex than Tahl and I combined, so she’s a good person to mine for knowledge. Hell, she might have more experience than a Playboy bunny, now that I think about it.
She’s ten minutes late already so I decide to do something productive while waiting for her. I pull out my
phone to look up the latest job listings. Maybe something new has been posted that I can apply to. Yes, I still want my dream job at the news station, but I haven’t heard anything from them yet and I can’t afford to sit around with all my eggs in that basket.
The bartender comes over and I order myself a rum and seven, steering way clear of any whiskey because this guy is cute, though nowhere near as hot as Cole. Still, I don’t need any more bartender problems than I already have.
I check another job site, but there’s nothing suited to my talents that I haven’t already applied for. I sigh and shove my phone back into my purse, just about to pull my journal out of my bag to record some of my thoughts, when Lennon arrives.
In she comes, sauntering over to the booth like she’s not at all running late. Her coat is in her hand and she’s in a pair of skinny jeans with stylish rips down the front and a clingy t-shirt that reads ‘Fries Before Guys’.
“Hey, bitch,” she says with a smile and slides in across from me.
“Hello, whore.”
This is something we do from time to time and we both know it’s meant in jest, neither of us taking offense.
“I wish,” she says. “This week has been a real dry spell.” She tosses her purse beside her on the bench seat.
“What happened to that guy you were with when I called from Cole’s house that morning?”
She waves me off and rolls her eyes. “He got clingy.”
Ah. There’s nothing that Lennon hates more than a guy who expects something more from her than just her vagina. As soon as he shows the tiniest glimpse of wanting to move the relationship into more serious territory, she has him half out of her bed.
“Can I get you something to drink?” The cute bartender is back and places my drink in front of me.
Lennon is immediately sizing him up, not at all hiding the fact that she’s checking him out and liking what she sees. She smiles and bats her eyelashes at him, turning on the charm. “What would you recommend?”
He gives her a half-crooked smile, having gotten her memo. “I make a killer Mountain Dew Me.”
“I bet you do.” She bites her bottom lip and I roll my eyes, but neither of them are paying any attention to me. “I tend to prefer my cocktails,” she says, emphasizing the word ‘cock,’ “a little rougher than that.”
Somehow, she says this with a straight face.
“Give me a minute and I’ll bring you back something to wet your whistle.”
Lennon’s grin grows. “How about I wet your whistle later?”
“Okay, enough,” I interrupt. “We need to talk.” I shift my attention to the guy. “Can you just bring her a drink?”
He shoots me a half-annoyed look before he leaves the table.
“Why did you do that?” Lennon whines after he’s left.
“Really? You two were eye-fucking each other and I’m sitting right here in crisis mode. After we’re done, feel free to screw him six ways to Sunday.”
“Oh, sweetie,” she says and pats my hand like I’m a child. “I’ll screw him six ways before the sun comes up tomorrow.”
I let out an exasperated sigh.
She laughs. “Now, what’s going on with Cole?”
“How do you know it has to do with him?” I reach for my drink and take a sip.
This time it’s Lennon rolling her eyes. “Please. I know you.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that any time you can’t control something… like your feelings for a guy… you freak out. You don’t like relying on someone and when you’re falling for a guy you have to give up some of your control and independence. You don’t like that.” She shrugs as if it’s obvious.
I sit silent for a moment, processing what she’s just said. All I can come up with is that she’s right. I don’t want to rely on anyone else. I’ve been let down too many times. It’s better just to count on yourself. That way, no one has the power to hurt you.
“You know I’m right,” she says in a sing-song voice.
The bartender reappears and sets a large, red drink down in front of her.
“Here you go. I made a Suck, Bang and Blow special for you,” he says with a wink.
Lennon leans forward as seductively as possible and with no hands wraps her lips around the straw and takes a sip. “Mmm,” she moans with way too much enthusiasm.
“You like?” he asks.
She flicks her gaze to his crotch before responding. “I do.”
“That’s some pretty nice ink you have there.” He points to her arm, sporting a full sleeve of tattoos. “I’ve been thinking of adding to my own. Where’d you get it done?”
“At my own shop,” she says proudly. Lennon reaches for her purse and pulls out a business card adorned with her ‘What Are You Inking?’ logo and information, then passes it to him.
“Cool,” he says.
“Take that for now,” she says. “I’ll come talk to you about it after we’re done. You can show me where you’re thinking of putting it and maybe then I’ll show you my version of Suck, Bang and Blow.”
He smiles like he’s just won the damn lottery. “Abso-fucking-lutely.” He grins at her for another second before heading back over to the bar.
Lennon immediately turns her attention back to me. “Okay, spill. What’s happening with you and Cole?” She pivots so easily away from her last conversation that it’s like she didn’t just offer herself up to some guy in front of me.
And so, I tell her about our agreement to get along and work together for Tahlia and Chase’s sake and about our time checking out all the places and then finally the kiss.
“So, what do I do?” I ask when I’m done.
“Hmm.” That’s all she says after I pour my heart out.
“What does that mean?”
She puts her finger up. “Hang on. I’m processing.”
I take another long sip of my drink while I wait. And wait.
“Well?”
“I think it’s a question of whether you think there is really something between you or if you’re just attracted to him and want to bump uglies with him. You do want to bang him again, right?”
“Well, he tells me I referred to his junk as unicorn cock the night we hooked up, so it’s safe to say I was into it.”
“Unicorn cock!” Lennon practically shouts and smacks her hand down on the table in front of her. “That’s awesome. Why didn’t I think of that? I need to get that on a t-shirt.”
“Can you be serious for a second?”
“Sorry.” She works to compose herself then asks. “Well, which is it? Are there feelings between you two or do you just want him balls deep in your business?”
“How are we even friends?” I shake my head.
She winks. “You love me.”
“Sadly, yes. And to answer your question I don’t really know. After everything that happened all those years ago… I don’t know if I could ever really let that go. I mean, maybe he’s matured since then, I’d like to think that I have also, but still. He’s responsible for so much going wrong in my life—”
“Does he know that?”
“Are you kidding me?” I screw my face up and look over at her and then pick up my drink.
“So, hit it and quit it. Get it out of your system.” She shrugs like it’s just that easy. “But if this is going to be something, Whit, you have to tell him about that night. All of it.”
I decide to ignore her last comment. “How do you do it? How do you find it so easy to walk away from them all?”
She gives a small laugh. “It’s different. I can love ’em and leave ’em because I don’t care about them. I’m there for the adventure and the good times. You… you care. Even though you don’t want to.” She gives me a sad smile and reaches across the table to squeeze my hand.
Damn it. She’s right.
“What about Tahlia?” I ask. “I don’t like keeping this from her, but she’s got so much going on right now.”
&nbs
p; “Tell me about it. Every time I talk to her lately I think she’s one second away from a complete mental breakdown. I thought weddings were supposed to be fun?”
“Should I tell her?”
Lennon shakes her head. “No. Not unless you think it’s going somewhere. If you’re just screwing around, then have your fun and mention it after the wedding’s over and you’ve both moved on.”
My gut is telling me the same thing… that one more piece of straw on the camel’s back would break Tahl. She has enough going on right now and doesn’t need to be bothered with my problems.
“I think you’re right. Thanks babe.”
She picks up her drink and clinks it with mine. “Anytime. This bitch has got your back.”
“I’m the bitch. You’re the whore, remember?”
She laughs. “True enough. And in that vein, if we’re done here, I’m about to go shore up my prospects over there.” She nods toward the bar and the bartender who’s still watching her every move.
“Go.” I laugh and wave her off.
I need to adopt a little of Lennon’s personality. If I’m going to have to be around Cole again I’m either going to have to take it as the fun it has the potential to be or ignore my desire completely. That feels like a tall order, but I’m not one to back down from a challenge.
As soon as the thought crosses my mind, my phone rings and presents me with my next challenge. But this is a good one.
17
Nerves have me shaking like a Stepford wife being weaned off Valium. I open the heavy glass doors of the skyscraper downtown and step into the WHFI lobby. When she called the other night to offer me an on-camera test, the human resources lady said to go to the thirty-first floor this time.
I suck in a deep breath to pull myself together as my heels click on the tile floor while I cross the large lobby toward the elevators. I chose to wear a navy pencil skirt with cream-coloured cami underneath the matching jacket. It’s uncomfortable as hell, but it’s the closest thing I have to something that screams newscaster.
