Page 37 of Tricking an Introvert

Cole

"So, you survived your first Westbrook outing."

She'd looked pretty damn uncomfortable for the greater part of the evening, and Cole had questioned his decision to bring her with him, but she'd cheered up now.

Tessa laughed out loud. "Only just! Hey, did you know Arabella was goading your mother in order to get her to spend tons of cash?"

Cole grinned. "The two of them are always at it. Arabella won today, and Mother let her. Next time, she'll get her. Maybe. What did you think?"

"Honestly, tonight was interesting. And pretty fun, too—at least, until they got me involved."

She grimaced.

"Why do you hate the limelight so much? I mean, is there a specific reason?"

The question was probably dumb.

She shrugged. "Not really."

That felt like a half-truth at best. He let it drop anyway. They'd known each other for a week. Just a week. He didn't get to dive into her deepest, darkest secrets.

"How do you feel about ice cream?"

"The same way anyone would feel about ice cream in July when it's a billion degrees. Yes please!"

They headed to his favorite ice cream parlor.They were both overdressed for it, but on a Saturday evening in Manhattan, almost everyone was.

The fact that she didn't try to get back indoors as fast as possible was a good indication that tonight had worked out well for her, or so he told himself.

She truly could handle his mother.His world. Well, the annoying part of his world he couldn't quite walk away from.

Cole realized that he was slowly and surely testing the waters, gauging whether they fit together, always keeping Michael's advice in mind.

While he was stuck in the friend-zone, he might as well enjoy its benefits and see if they were compatible, truly compatible.

So far, the answer was a yes. A big fat yes.

If she wanted him. That part was still a complete gray area. Although he hadn’t corrected his mother when she’d assumed they were together, and Tessa had said nothing to set the record straight. That might mean something. Just maybe.

“A vanilla cone and whatever the lady would like,” he ordered when the server came to their table.

“You’re kidding.”

She looked at him like he had a slimy snail on his face.

“What?”

“You’re not seriously picking plain vanilla.”

Cole shrugged. He always went for vanilla. “Why not? It’s delicious.”

“Because there are literally hundreds of options and every single one is more exciting than vanilla.”

“I don’t want exciting. I want real, sturdy, and reliable.”

“Are you describing ice cream or an insurance company? Come on, Cole. Don’t do this to yourself.”

He sighed. “Fine.”

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