His humorless chuckle was as cold as ice. “Even with him here, I refused to believe it. That’s how far gone I was. Then my mom emerged from the front door holding Amy’s purse open to show me that it was full of her jewelry that Amy had taken. Amy finally lost her poker face and started screaming at my mom.”
I closed my eyes in shock and chewed on my lip. A wave of sadness swept through me, but it was quickly replaced with blinding anger at the woman who could do something like that to Cole. He didn’t deserve that kind of pain.
“I’m so sorry, Cole,” I whispered when I was sure my voice wouldn’t crack. “I can’t imagine how difficult that must have been for you.”
His jaw tightened. “I hate being here—back at the house where my life crumbled right in front of my eyes. And those goddamn paintings…”
“You should burn them.”
At that, he whipped around to look at me, his eyes wide.
“That’sexactlywhat I want to do.”
“I’ll light the fire,” I offered, nudging him with my elbow. His expression grew tender, and he threw his arm over my shoulders, pulling me into his chest.
“Thanks, partner,” he said, the sound muffled by my hair that must be tickling his face. I curled my arm around his waist and squeezed him back.
“You know, we never told you what you smell like,” he said, and I lifted my chin to look at him. Our faces were inches apart. There were gold flakes in his eyes.
“What?” I asked with a smile even as heat creeped up my neck.
“Like gardenias. Mom used to take me and Ivy to the botanical gardens when we were kids, and I would bury my face in those shrubs while Ivy screamed that I would get bugs on me.” He chuckled as he recalled the memory, and I felt the vibration in his chest. “It smelled so sweet and fruity, just like candy. I think I tasted it once, and the taste was not at all like the smell.”
He ran his thumb down my shoulder, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “But I have a feeling you’d taste just as sweet as I imagine,” he said in a low voice, and his gaze dropped to my lips.
My breath hitched at his words. My body buzzed with tension even as the logical part of my brain screamed at me to relax. This was Cole, and he was a flirt. He was just trying to rile me up. But there was nothing teasing in his gaze, nothing remotely dishonest.
Ezra and Cole’s parents returned to the patio, their voices bursting the moment. We quickly untangled our arms from each other.
“Hey, guys,” Ezra called out. “Emma and Sirus want us to play for them in the garage. You up for it?”
Cole raised his brows at me.
“Sure,” I said, glancing between Ezra and him.
The usual smile was back on Cole’s face, and he offered me his arm. “C’mon. Time to be the entertainment.”
* * *
We played a few songs to the enthusiastic reception of his parents, who requested a bunch of classic rock as well as a small preview of the new album. Eventually, they bid us good night and headed back into the house, leaving the three of us in the garage.
I placed the guitar down and walked over to a bookshelf full of records, curious to see Cole’s collection.
“My dad started putting it together before I was even born,” the bassist explained, coming to stand by my side. “There’s a lot of sixties and seventies rock—stuff I grew up on.”
I pulled outLed Zeppelin IIIand showed it to him. “This is one of my all-time favorites.”
Cole grinned as Ezra came to look over my shoulder at the record. “Me, too,” the bassist said. “Should we play a song from it?”
“Mmm, what’s your favorite?” I asked.
“‘Since I’ve Been Loving You’. I listened to that song on loop for weeks at a time.”
“God, that’s a good song,” I agreed.
Ezra hummed his appreciation beside me. “Let’s do it.”
Placing the record back on the shelf, I grabbed the guitar and strummed a few of the chords.
