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“Yes.”
His entire body goes as rigid as his dick.
“Yes?” Cole cups my cheeks, tilting my head so he can meet my eyes. His burn with an intensity that only makes my blood hotter. There’s something in the tone of his question that has me smiling
“Yes.”
This earns me a Cole Allemand grin, and I consider if it’s possible to self-combust just by looking into a gorgeous man’s face. Iron arms envelop my waist, lifting me from the bathroom sink. I love the floating feeling, finding myself giggling in eagerness.
“Bed now?”
“No.” He lets me slide down his body until my toes touch the tile of the bathroom floor. “Bagels now.”
Chapter Twenty
COLE
Best. Birthday. Ever.
Chapter Twenty-One
SUMMER
A table in the corner sits filled with delicious finger foods, so it’s no surprise I’ve gravitated there. Nothing messy, of course, but hearty enough offerings to make sure no one at this open house has an empty stomach.
“Empty stomachs don’t feel like home.”My mother’s words echo from years ago.
As she stands by an ornate fireplace, chatting with a young couple, I can imagine her saying the same exact line today. That’s how things are with her. Different, and yet the same.
When I was sixteen it was my responsibility to make sure the snack table for the potential buyers remained fully stocked and attractive to look at. Now Mom brings in caterers who craft delicate, yet still homey-feeling fare.
I didn’t arrive at this spot because I miss my post as unofficial server. I’m just here because I’m hungry. Not that I would admit that to my mother. She would twist the conversation around to me not buying enough food because I spend so much of my earnings on my student loans.
The debt looms over me, creepy tentacles teasing, interest rates amassing. Sometimes I’m so knotted up by the numbers that I’m not even hungry. Which makes it easier to apply part of my food budget toward paying them off.
Couldn’t have been happy with a bachelor’s. No, I wanted that Master’s in Library Science. I wanted a full-time, relatively secure position. Need to spend money to make money.
Not that many people would call the salary of a public librarian a lucrative investment.
But, one day, after my student loans are paid, I’ll be able to start saving for a place to live with more than one room. I won’t have to look so closely at my grocery receipts. Maybe I’ll treat myself to a fancy cappuccino drink rather than a simple black coffee.
One day my salary will feel like enough, instead of just scraping by.
One day I’ll feel secure. I’ll feel safe.
Until then, I might as well supplement my income with some open house flatbread squares and fresh-baked cookies.
“Summer baby, glad you could make it. Just another half hour and things will slow down.” My mother says all this in one breath as she presses a kiss against my cheek and whirls away again, eyes locked on a well-dressed woman running her manicured fingers along a window sill.
One of the waiters who passes by with a tray of waters and white wine gives me a pitying look. I let an easy smile spread across my face, hoping to convey I’m not upset in the slightest about my mother’s abrupt greeting. This is her job. And she loves it. I’d never ask her to stop in the middle of what she’s doing and pay attention to me. That would be like her showing up to the library and expecting me to ignore patrons so we could have a chat.
No way. Not going to happen.
For a long time, I watched my mother struggle to get to a point in her life where she found happiness and contentment. She has that here, at her successful real estate business. Finally.
After filling a tiny plate, I set to roaming and end up finding the comfiest place in the house, a window seat that is sadly lacking in throw pillows. Settling in, I pull out a tattered paperback I paid a quarter for at the library’s used book fundraiser last week.
I’m deep into the story when a light tap on my shoulder pulls me back to the present.
