Page 20 of Tricking an Introvert

He cleared his throat, finding it uncomfortably dry. “Do you have vanilla extract?”

“Top shelf, right above your head.”

Cooking was a nice distraction. While the pears cooked and the sauces simmered, they finished the rest of the movie. Then Cole plated up dessert.

More moans.

She was trying to kill him today.

Distraction. He needed a distraction, stat.

“So, what was the sad face about earlier? Or are we ignoring it? I’m cool with ignoring it.”

She blinked, visibly surprised. “I appreciate that. Your asking, and your willingness to let it go. That’s…unexpected. Refreshing.” She sighed, pushing her dessert away.

Cole immediately regretted having asked.

“I’m fine, really. It’s just…I volunteer at an animal shelter, did I tell you?”

“No. That must be rewarding.” And unbearably depressing from time to time, no doubt. Her reply explained it all, but he let her go on without interruption, intuiting she might want to get it out of her system.

“It was. It is, really. I don’t do much beyond cuddling some cats and dogs, but they say it helps, so whatever. I’m happy when I see them go to their forever home, sad when they get brought back. A little sad when they don’t, because I don’t see them again… most of the time, it’s amazing.” She stopped at that.

“Not today?” Cole guessed.

She shook her head, sniffing. “Not today. A dog died over the weekend; they told me today. It happens every day all around the world, you know? I shouldn’t be this messed up about it. Except I knew that dog. He was adorable, and loving, but neglected. There was some internal damage that required monitoring. I was even going to try to foster him for a time while his issues got resolved. I keep thinking about it, thinking that maybe if I’d cancelled the convention and taken him in, looked after him twenty-four seven, he might have made it…”

Fuck, now she was actually crying. What the hell was he supposed to do? Cole had never dealt with a crying woman in his entire life. His mother, Marie Elizabeth Montgomery-Corvin-Westbrook, wasn’t one to cry. He rarely spent enough time with any woman to see them get emotional.

Winging it, he moved along the sofa, taking up the middle seat. “Hey now, shush,” he said, hooking his arm under her legs and placing them on his lap. He patted them. Which could be dumb, he had no clue. “I’m certain your friends at the shelter did everything they could. You having your own life isn’t a crime.”

“I know, I know. I can’t stop thinking about him all the same.”

“Which shows just how big your heart is. Just don’t feel guilty when you’re being more helpful and loving to those dogs than most people in the city, all right?”

The tears had stopped, thank fuck. She nodded before pulling the rest of her dessert to her. Cole grinned. “How was it?”

“You’re officially hired as my pastry chef, effective immediately.”

He chuckled. “Am I now? We’ll have to define the terms of the employment. Holidays, working hours, compensation.”

“Dental?” she supplied.

Cole was so very close to her now, and she was looking at him with a spark of interest, he was almost sure of it. She’d kept her legs over his lap, although he’d stopped patting them like an idiot. How easy it would be to just lean forward and take her lips. If she let him, he’d shift her to sit on top of him, lose himself in her scent…

I’m going to kiss you now.

The words almost crossed his lips when a sudden, unexpected doorbell rang in the distance.

Damn it all to hell.

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