“You already said that.”
I grit my teeth. “I hate you sometimes.”
Cole leans in slightly, voice lowering. “You like her.”
I bark out a humorless laugh. “Don’t.”
“Gray.”
“No.”
He points at me with the bottle opener still in his hand. “You just walked in here looking like you got hit by a truck and started listing her qualifications like you were trying to convince a board, then admitted she looked good in the park. You like her.”
“I’m attracted to her,” I snap. “There’s a difference.”
Cole watches me, studying me, and I know damn well he’s peeling back layers and layers with that stare alone. His voice is too calm when he speaks again. “That wasn’t exactly a denial?—”
I close my eyes for one second. “Jesus Christ. She works for me. She’s moving into my house to help with my daughter. End of story.”
“Then why do you look like you need an exorcism?”
Because Carly in fucking jeans, laughing in the sun with Penelope on her hip, is apparently enough to make my internal warning system light up like a Christmas tree.
Because every logical reason this arrangement makes sense is being chased around by one deeply inconvenient truth.
Because I know exactly what the problem is, and the problem has soft brown eyes and a mouth I am making a concerted effort not to think about.
“Because,” I grit out, “I need this to not be a problem.”
Cole’s expression shifts then, some of the amusement draining out of it. “I get that. You’ve got too much going on already. Penny, work, Halsey being Halsey. But don’t make your own life harder because you think temptation is wrong. It’s not the end of the world if you give in a little.”
I stare at him. “Imagine if I’d said that last part to you while you were trying to get sober.”
“Oh, I’m sorry— I must have missed the part where you said you were cripplingly addicted to her. Should I take you to a detox clinic? Maybe rehab? I know Igreatgroup I go to on Sundays that you’re welcome to come along to.”
“Okay, yeah, I’ll shut up, I get it, I’m sorry.”
Cole tips his head, not convinced. “You’d better be.”
I finish the rest of my beer in one long glug and set the empty glass down. “For the record, you’re a terrible drinking companion.”
He snorts. “You gonna leave a Google review?"
“Absolutely. One-star. Bartender told me that I look like I need an exorcism and then read me too well.”
He reaches for my glass, that smug almost-smile back in place. “Do it, and I’ll leak all those photos from Maddox’s fortieth.”
I shoot him a glare and slide off the stool, readjusting my coat.
“In all seriousness, though, if you need someone to watch Penny last-minute with the swap or meetings or whatever, Dana and I can cover you.”
I slide off the stool and readjust my coat. “Thanks, man. And sorry about the comment. It’s been a day.”
“No worries, Gray.”
* * *
The night air hits cool against my face. Itshould make me feel steadier. But instead, I feel worse.
