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Glancing back, I see her with her arms crossed over her chest defensively while the other girls surround her in commiseration. Sadly, nothing about this exchange will change who she is. She’ll always be a self-centered bully who will never understand how unlikable she is.
When we’re in Coen’s truck, he turns to me before cranking the engine. “I’m sorry you had to be subjected to that.”
I shrug, because truly, I’ve never let Cici get to me. I might have been on the dorkier side of things growing up—and maybe even now—but my parents raised me to be confident and embrace my differences. “She doesn’t bother me, Coen.”
He stares at me and releases a frustrated sigh before starting the truck. “Well, it bothers the fuck out of me.”
I reach out to touch his arm. “But why? It’s not that big a deal.”
Head swiveling slowly my way, I note the sadness in his eyes. “It bothers me because that’s exactly the type of woman I wouldhave gone home with not that long ago. I told you I’m not a nice man.”
“Oh,” I murmur, my hand falling away. I don’t know what to say, and I’m disheartened that someone like Cici would attract him. Or at least used to and perhaps would again.
Maybe I’m just a novelty.
But no… he’s in this truck with me. He won a teddy bear for me, held my hand, kissed me on the Ferris wheel.
My hand goes back to his arm, and his gaze meets mine. “You’re not that man anymore.”
I see it in his face. The refusal to believe in something different. His steadfast position that he’s not a nice man. It’s naked in his expression, and I understand he’s letting me see it.
Then it’s gone, replaced by a smile.
One that’s mischievous. It makes me giddy.
“Can I stay the night?” he asks.
“You know you can,” I reply, my words barely a whisper because he takes my breath away.
CHAPTER 19
Coen
Iwalk intoMasha’s, and when I make eye contact with Jake the bartender, I get a chin lift of greeting. It makes me feel like a bona fide local.
No one fussing over me because I’m Coen Highsmith.
No one wanting to talk hockey.
As much anonymity as one could hope for, given the news I generated when I was playing.
I’m not surprised to see Hank sitting at the short end of the bar, a burger and a Coke in front of him. I know he works a few blocks down at a fly-fishing and hunting outfitter. I really enjoyed talking to him about fishing at the fair the other night, and he promised to take me out sometime to a stream that’s kind of a hidden treasure.
I make my way over to him, and he smiles as he sees me approach. “There’s the up-and-coming fly-fisherman.”
“Mind if I join you?” I ask, nodding to the adjacent stool.
“Free world,” he replies before taking another bite of his burger. Jake approaches and sets a napkin in front of me.
“I’ll have a Rolling Rock,” I say.
“Anything to eat?” he asks.
“Nah… I had a late breakfast.” Only because I slept until mid-morning. And that was only because I was up all night fucking Tillie.
Christ, she’s become like a drug I can’t get enough of. I’d gone months without any interest in women—the guilt from what I did with Darcy compounding my overall depression after theplane went down—but now I can’t look at Tillie without wanting to touch her.
Mostly kiss her. I’ve never enjoyed the act of kissing as much as I do with her. A woman’s lips have never felt so soft, and she does this breathy little sigh into my mouth that makes me feel like I’m king of the mountain or some shit.
