Page 27 of Wildfire
"You made a torte. As in, a complex dessert."
"Yes."
"Is that something you do? Make delicious desserts? Because this changes everything."
His eyebrows shoot up. "Changes everything how?"
"I'm going to have to buy a bigger pair of pants before I leave Owl Creek, and I'm here for it."
Cole shakes his head and chuckles. "So, does that mean you want some?"
"Yes. Plus the drink. I have some exciting news for you."
"I'm all ears." He pours us a couple of whiskeys and walks them over to the low table in front of the rust-colored couch. Then he serves up two thick slices of the darkest, densest cake I've ever seen, and my mouth starts watering. The thing is, I'm not sure if it is the food or the man that is having the effect on me. I curl up on one end of the couch and start blabbing away. It is hard to stop. The excitement is building up all over again, and talking distracts from the thoughts about Cole trying to take hold.
"That's amazing. Congratulations!"
"Thank you. Oh, and I almost forgot to ask. My best friend called tonight and told me she has some time off. Would it be alright with you if she stays with me?"
"As long as you agree not to have any parties." He winks at me.
"She's more of the bookish type. We couldn't be more opposite."
"So you're a party girl?"
"That's not what I mean."
I don't know why, but I don't want him to think I am like that. Sure, I'd gotten drunk at the lake just like everyone else, but it wasn't like I was getting loaded every weekend and screwing guys in the back seat of their car. At least, not most guys. "I just mean she's more intellectual, and I'm more physical."
God, I'm digging myself a hole here.
"She works part-time at the local school and has her own business, whereas I just work with wood."
"Just?"
I can feel his gaze on me, and it has a weight to it. I know he doesn't think about me being a carpenter the way people like Michael do. The fact that I haven't heard from Michael yet means he wasn't back in Downsville or doesn't care that I'd also left him when I ran out on my family.
"I mean, I'm not like her. She's a self-taught computer whizz, and I'm following in my dad's footsteps as a carpenter. She's going places."
"Well, so are you from the sounds of it. That band draws a crowd. You're going to be heard by a lot of people."
I swallow some whiskey to push back on the lump in my throat. It burns in a comforting way.
Swallow the fear. Swallow the guilt.
"What do you think of the torte?"
I had been so wrapped up in what I was saying my mind didn't register much of the flavor. I take the last bite and slow my brain down to savor it. "Magnificent."
"Well, I won't be able to eat the whole thing so feel free to help yourself to as much as you want. I leave the door unlocked, so let yourself in."
"I can let myself into your house? Won't that feel like an intrusion?"
His eyebrows wrinkle, and then he reaches over and squeezes my foot, which is propped up on the couch. "You aren't intruding. I want you here."
The room gets ten degrees warmer in an instant. Being welcomed with open arms feels strange. More of the tightness in my chest releases, and it scares me a bit. I don't want to want him. I don't want towantto be here on this couch, feeling like I am not only welcome but desired. Not just desired for my body, but for my company.
"Thanks, Cole. I'm going to wash up. It's been a long day." I shoot off the couch and grab our plates, hurrying them to the kitchen to wash.
