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Her lips parted and her breath caught in her throat when she opened the door to find Cole in front of her. She shuddered. The devil himself. “Did you come to accuse me of stealing staplers or Post-it notes?” If he did, he wouldn’t be so off the mark. Over the years, she’d been grateful to have full access to stationery and office supplies in case the twins had last minute activities for preschool and then kindergarten. She sighed. Another disadvantage after having been fired.
A small smile formed on the corners of his lips. “No. I need to talk to you. May I come in?”
Or they could argue at her doorstep, but then if Mrs. Farrow walked her white Pomeranian dog like she usually did at this time, she’d spill the beans to the entire neighborhood with ultrasonic efficiency. That woman used her workout as an excuse to keep tabs on everyone. “Fine.”
She gestured for him to enter and stepped back so their limbs wouldn’t touch. A remnant from her failed marriage, the two-story house had always been spacious and open, but his presence in the middle of her living area managed to diminish the textured walls and set of tan sofas. “I’d ask if you want to drink something, but I only have tap water and juice boxes.”
Liar. She also had a bottle of wine somewhere, but this wasn’t that kind of visit. Right?
She stood in front of him, hesitant to invite him to sit. For a moment, a warm energy passed between them, so strong it nearly took shape. Lust coursed through her as the awareness of them being completely alone in her house dawned on her. A man—a strong man, who had just fired her, stoked a fire within her. Was it anger from what he’d done, or the scorching desire she tried so hard to ignore? “Sit,” she said, teeth gritted.
He took a seat on the sofa where a patterned brown throw blanket blended with sparkly, beady pillows. “Thanks for letting me in.”
She chose the sofa across from him and crossed her legs tightly, in hopes to send her body a message. The trick backfired and a tingle of excitement sizzled up her thighs. “What brings you here?”
“I have a proposal for you. You can go back to your old job, and your grandmother can stay at Great Escape.”
She touched the back of her ear, unsure. Was this a test or a real offer? “But if all her friends are gone, why would she stay?” Especially if they only left the residents needing high levels of care. Many of them no longer spoke and stayed in their rooms or shared units with nurses and technicians watching over them. And how about the other residents, the ones she spoke to? The ones who would have to move regardless of her solving her grandma’s problem.
He ran his fingers down his face. “You’re really stubborn, aren’t you?”
“I’m a loyal person. Besides, as much as you think this is me being selfish, I care about the residents who have families in town. I’ve heard about their stories and struggles for too long to just let them go through this without a fight,” she said, scooting to the edge of the sofa. Damn it, how many times did she have to repeat herself? Her heart galloped in her chest. Maybe she still had a chance to convince him—he needed her, or he wouldn’t be here.
He sighed. “When I get old, remind me to keep you in my corner.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, envisioning him as a senior citizen, still attractive but likely dating a woman half his age, like her father. Not only that, but he didn’t visit his own mother enough at Great Escape. Frustration thickened her throat. “Now’s not the time to be cute.”
“I wasn’t trying to be cute. You’re an annoying social justice warrior,” he said, flashing her a look of… hmmm… admiration?
A flutter spiked her pulse points. Maybe she’d lost her common sense altogether. First, a failed attempt at backstabbing The Man. Then, reaching out to the idea he admired her at some level.
“Thank you. And here I thought you weren’t good at compliments.”
He shot her the slightest wink. “Didn’t mean it as one.”
I know. “What happened to make you come to my house and ask me to go back to work?”
He touched his forehead, and her gaze fled to his long tan fingers. “One of our residents is having an extramarital affair.”
She chuckled. There had to be something about reaching a certain phase in your life and not caring about society’s norms anymore. In her line of work, she’d heard more steamy stories about affairs than from her group of girlfriends. “Ah. Mrs. Grant?”
He stood, restless, shaking his head. “Her too? I meant Mr. Reeves.”
“What can I say? Life’s complicated,” she said, waving her hands. She didn’t condone cheating but refused to change the course of their conversation. He needed her enough to pay her a visit, and she’d be a fool not to use the leverage. She lifted her chin, feeling the pulse beat madly at the base of her throat. “What else?”
He paced, then settled for sitting in the same sofa as her. “The cleaning staff found a collection of dildos in Ms. Morrison’s room.”
“So?” She hated herself for the nervous chuckle escaping her mouth. She meant to add that she didn’t care about the dildos, but his manly scent near her made her squeeze the pathetic giggle. The rich, woodsy fragrance of aftershave, or whatever the hell that was, was messing with her senses.
“Thirty of them. She’d been stealing from other residents when she volunteered. I never imagined people their age could get so…”
“Aroused?” She angled closer.
His gaze dropped to her lips. “Yes.”
Heat flooded her cheeks and neck. “That’s a typical assumption, to desexualize senior citizens. Some of them are more active than people my age,” she said, adding internally, than me. Though now, by his side, every part of her vibrated with sexual need.
“I guess. Anyhow, I’m too busy to take care of their love lives.”
