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"Reminds me of the way my dad used to look at me." That came out way sadder than I'd meant it to.
"Must be strange to be here without him."
I loved how Cole didn't shy away from talking to me about my dad. A lot of people might have avoided the topic, thinking that they might upset me. Not him.
"Honestly? It's a real headfuck. Everywhere I look, I half expect to see him. I don't know how it’s going to feel when we rip out all the fixings from his old bar. It's like I'm betraying his memory."
"I get why you feel that way. But I see it differently. I think he'd be proud."
"Proud that I want to sell up and bail?"
Cole held my gaze, his eyes fierce and warm. "If either of my girls had half your ambition and drive, I'd be bursting with pride." He paused, considering his next words. "Bluehaven's too small for you, Elara. You're meant for bigger things."
I snorted. "Whatever you say."
"I mean it. This town, it's not for everyone. It wasn't right for Stephanie, that’s for sure." The mention of his ex-wife caught me off guard, but strangely, it didn't deter me. I liked how frank we were being with one another.
Like nothing was off-limits.
"She wanted to leave town?" I asked.
"When we got together, I had big dreams. Like I told you before, I wanted to study architecture and build my own house one day. But then she got pregnant, and everything changed. Steph loves the kids, don't get me wrong. But she had a harder time adjusting to how our world shrunk after they were born. Told me she couldn't be content with a . . . small life."
"Hmm." I frowned. "Just because someone lives simply, it doesn't mean that they don't have big feelings and a big soul. The size of your life isn't defined by where you live."
Cole smiled at me for a moment. “Yeah, well, for her, the problem was that I was happy to be just a builder, I think. And just a dad."
He looked so handsome. A simple white T-shirt and faded jeans under that silly apron. "No one's just a builder,” I said softly. “No one's just a dad."
"True. I do also grill up a mean burger." There he went again, trying to diffuse the charged moment with humor. He looked down at his apron. "I didn't buy this, by the way."
"Oh really?"
"I'm not really a 'funny apron' kind of a guy."
"Shame. It suits you." I bit my lip. “Not as much as lifting weights shirtless suits you, though.”
His eyes widened and then his jaw hardened. "About the other night, Elara. I'm sorry for what happened. Between us."
My heart raced. "Why? Like I said, you don't need to be sorry."
"I'm ten years older than you. I don't want to lead you on. My life's a mess. You don't want to become mixed up in all that."
My stomach churned as I considered my response. It felt almost like I had no choice but to dive deeper. "I don't want to get mixed up in your life, Cole. I just want . . . other things."
"Other things can be complicated."
"They can be fun, too."
Our eyes locked, a shared understanding written between us. He reached out to touch my cheek, and the world slowed down. As his fingers touched me, I was surprised by how tender he was. And then, a moment, later, a surprised gasp escaped my lips as his hand traced an electric path down my neck, over my chest, skimming dangerously close to my nipple.
"I think you'll find that I'm anything but a softy,” he growled.
A whimper escaped me as his strong arms snaked around my waist, pulling me flush against him. And then his lips were on mine, warm and strong and all-encompassing.
This time, there was no hesitance in the way we moved together, no doubt. His hands cupped my bum and he squeezed, his strength bringing heat to my chest and an ache to my core. Just as I felt my knees might buckle, he pulled back, but this time, there was no apology in his darkened gaze.
His gaze traveled over every inch of me as if committing every curve to memory. "You're fucking beautiful, Elara,” he said in a low murmur that sent shivers down my spine. “You know how much I’ve been thinking about you? You’re all I fucking think about."
