Page 2 of Falling for Cocky Cole
A smile tugs at my lips before I can stop it. I roll my eyes at myself more than at him. This is exactly why my mother warned me about Cole Carter: he's flirty, charming, and knows exactly what to say to disarm a woman's defenses. He leaves you no room to regret what you've done, even when logic tells you it was the biggest mistake of your life.
I start typing a response: "What are you talking about?" Then delete it. Playing dumb isn't my style, and Cole wouldn't buy it for a second.
I try again: "It never happened." Delete. That's even worse—acknowledging it happened by insisting it didn't.
"Funny." Delete. Too casual, like we're friends who joke around.
Maybe the best strategy is no strategy at all. I flip my phone face down on the couch cushion so quickly that Emily looks up from her pony convention.
"Who is it?" she asks, curiosity lighting her big blue eyes—the same shade as her father's, but so much more readable.
"Just a friend," I say, the lie slipping out easily. Too easily. But how do I explain to a five-year-old that I slept with her uncle and now don't know how to face him? I don't know how to explain it to myself.
The truth is, I don't know what Cole is to me. He's supposed to be my mistake, my wrong choice, my what-happens-in-the-Antler-stays-in-the-Antler moment. But he made me feel more wanted in one night than my ex did in our entire year together. With my ex, sex had become routine, expected, a box to check off. With Cole, it felt like he was discovering me, like every inch of my skin was territory he'd dreamed of exploring.
Emily returns to explaining something important about pony politics to her fox family, and I pick up my phone again, the screen lighting up with Cole's message.Still thinking about it?Damn. I can almost see the smirk on his face when he typed the line. I can’t ignore it.
I sigh as I type: "I had a great time, but please don't text me again."
My thumb hovers over the send button. The message sounds harsh, reminiscent of the text Grant sent me after our kiss:It was completely inappropriate of me, and I promise it will never happen again.It still stings.
At least I'm acknowledging I enjoyed my night with Cole. That's more than Grant gave me.
I stare at the draft, hesitating. Is Cole really as bad as his reputation suggests? He himself told me at the Antler that the girls in town never gave him a chance to prove himself. They came in with their guard up, expecting him to break their hearts. So he played the role they assigned him—someone who wouldn’t get serious, someone who wouldn’t settle down.
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I reached across the table to hold his hand instead. Now I wonder if there was truth inhis words. If maybe everyone in town—me included—has been unfair to him all these years.
Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to give him a chance? To see him again, let him touch me again, make me feel that mix of vulnerability and power that I've never experienced with anyone else?
Stop it, I tell myself firmly. Cole Carter is the playboy of Silvercreek. The guy who broke Lindsey's cousin's heart so thoroughly she transferred colleges to get away from the memories. The man who, according to town legend, once dated three girls from the same class in his high school senior year without any of them knowing about the others.
Am I seriously considering seeing Cole again? Melting under his touch? Letting him scale the walls I've built around my heart? I have no doubt he could do it easily—he's already found cracks I carelessly revealed.
But I can't afford that, not in Silvercreek. This town is my haven, my retreat from the failure Portland became. I came back to regroup, not to become the subject of coffee shop gossip. Not to be another notch on Cole Carter's bedpost or another cautionary tale mothers tell their daughters.
I hit send before I can change my mind, then toss my phone onto the coffee table like it just bit me. The small thud makes Emily look up again.
"Is your friend mad at you?" she asks with that unnerving perceptiveness children sometimes have.
"No, honey," I say, shifting to sit beside her on the rug. "Just grown-up stuff. Nothing important."
Nothing important. If I say it enough, maybe I'll believe it. Maybe I'll stop replaying the way Cole looked at me in the dim light of his bedroom, like I was something precious he'd been searching for. Maybe I'll stop wondering if I just made the right choice or the safe one.
"Can you be the mama pony?" Emily asks, holding out a pink plastic horse. "She needs to tell all the baby ponies it's time for their nap."
I take the toy, grateful for the distraction. "Of course," I say, making my voice gentle as I move the mama pony among the smaller ones. "Time for sleep, little ponies. You've had a big day of adventures."
As I play, I resist the urge to glance at my phone, to see if those three gray dots might appear, to see if Cole might fight for me, just a little. It's better this way, I tell myself. Cleaner. Safer.
But safe has never made my heart race the way it did when Cole Carter whispered my name.
2
COLE
Iwatch Tanner struggle with the screwdriver for the fifth time in ten minutes and bite back a sigh. The kid couldn't tighten a deck rail if his life depended on it. His hands are soft, clearly never having seen the business end of a tool before, despite what his resume claimed. I demonstrate again, making sure he sees the proper technique, but my mind isn't really on loose deck rails or door latches. It's on soft blonde hair spread across my pillow and blue eyes that looked straight through me two nights ago.
"Like this?" Tanner asks, his brow furrowed in concentration as he attempts to mimic my movements.
