Page 10 of Riding the High

“There is nothing about you that should disappoint him,” Cole says sincerely.

He wets his lips and I wonder what it’s like to be Lindsay. To have that beautiful warm body press up against mine, to have those lips plant kisses down my neck, murmur sweet things to me—

“Ginger?” Cole snaps me out of my daydream. Am I panting?!Shit.Cole and alcohol are a bad mix.

“Uh … Thanks again, for picking me up. Sorry to interrupt whatever you were doing with Paris Hilton,” I say, fiddling with my purse strap.

Cole looks over at me. “Meh, no biggie. I’m not really feeling it anyway. She gets kind of needy to be honest. You did me a favor, if you want the truth,” he chuckles. Typical Cole. Never stays with one girl for too long.

I check my invisible watch. “Well, I mean it’s been, what? Three whole weeks? You’re way past due.”

“Fuck off,” he scoffs. I smile and move to get out of the truck.

“Hey, Vixen?” Cole’s hand darts out to stop me. He’s been calling me that more often this year, mostly whenever he’s bailing me out of one hairbrained situation or another, like this one. He doesn’t have a nickname for any of CeCe’s other friends so I take it as a win. I turn to face him.

“Hmmm?”

“Don’t let that fucking Silas prick treat you like that.” He slides his large hand downward, placing it on my knee. I try to ignore the way his touch sends heat to every cell in my body, how it feels too close, even through my jeans. I look at his hand, then up to his eyes. Their normally amber hue is molten. He’s so close I can feel the heat from his skin, smell his minty breath, and my insides turn liquid.

“I mean it. You deserve better than that bullshit,” he mutters, flexing his grip lightly on my thigh.

“Why, thank you for the advice, Officer,” I say dutifully, mocking him, trying to sound a lot cooler than I feel.

“I’m calling in my first favor,” he blurts.

I gulp and raise an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Yeah—oh,” he says. “Just … fuck. You don’t … see yourself the way other people do.”

I laugh nervously and look out the front window. “Are you complimenting me, Cole Ashby?”

He shakes his head. “I mean it, Ginger. I’m telling you this so that, even though I give you a hard time, you know your worth. And I’ll always come when you call, okay? Just … find someone better.”

I don’t know if it’s that his hand is still on my thigh, the intense way he’s looking at me, or the vodka. Maybe a combination of all three? But something inside me breaks. I very slowly and intently inch my body closer on the bench seat, notching myself against him, alcohol-induced confidence taking over. I reach my hand to the side of his face and look deep into his eyes,like I’m asking permission. He doesn’t move, he doesn’t speak, so I tilt my head, slide my other hand around his chiseled waist and pull him close, capturing his lips with mine.

The moment we connect, static lines every part of me. I’m no longer molten, I’m pure fire, every inch of me burning for him. I moan as Cole’s hands circle my waist, and I press my body closer against his. For one second, everything feels so right—perfect even. For one second.

Until those hands push me away.

The buzzing sound continues like a leaky faucet, interrupting my dream of one of the most embarrassing nights of my life. I open one eye and see my phone five feet away on the coffee table.

The room is bright. Almost midday bright. I stretch my legs out on the couch and feel the warmth of Cole’s arm under my toes. We fell asleep, again. I give him a nudge as I pick up my phone and flip it over. I groan.

“Father,” I answer.

“Darling,” he replies curtly, all business. “It’s almost noon. Are you just waking up?” I can hear the displeasure in his voice. “You weren’t out doing anything you shouldn’t be, were you? You know the primaries are coming up.”

Yes, Father, I do. One wet t-shirt contest for charity in college, and I’m ruined for life it seems.

“No, I’ve been up for hours,” I lie.

Cole yawns like a yeti at the other end of the couch, not realizing I’m on the phone. I kick him. His eyes flit open and my core twinges. I try very hard not to fall asleep with Cole because the way he is in the morning, hair ruffled, warm and toasty against my body, is just—

“You sound like you’re half asleep. Are you still coming for dinner tomorrow night? Your mother is trying to figure out how many places to set.”

As if I have a choice.

“Yes, of course I’ll be there.”

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