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“That woman...” I trail off, shaking my head with a disbelieving smile.
“You've got yourself a good one, boss—if you don't mind me saying,” Brody says, grinning. “People say a lot of shit about her in this town—my meemaw, mostly—but she ain't all bad.”
“She ain't bad one bit,” I correct him. “People think they know shit about why she left, but they don't. If they knew what really happened, they'd be bringing fucking flowers to her door every damn day.”
Brody tilts his head, looking at me with curious eyes. “What happened?”
“Ain't my story to tell, man.”
“Yeah, I get it.” He bumps my shoulder with his own. “You're a lucky man, though, boss. Even if you are a miserable prick most days.”
“Don't know when you thought you could speak to your boss like that, but I'd fuck off and get back to work before I fire your ass.” I say it gruffly, but I'm smiling as I do.
He's a cheeky son of a bitch, but I actually like the guy.
Laughing, he claps me on the shoulder and disappears inside, leaving me alone to wonder how the fuck I'm going to get through the next several days while I wait for Thea to come home.
* * *
The following days drag by like a lifetime. Though we text when we can and video call at night, falling asleep to one another on FaceTime and not hanging up until morning, it's not the same as having her beside me. It's not the same as touching her, or breathing her air, or feeling the softness of her lips on mine and the suppleness of her body beneath me. But it's something. And it helps in a small way to ease the ache in my heart that I feel without her.
“Are you excited to see me tomorrow?” she asks on the other end of the phone, her voice smooth as an Irish cream liqueur.
I roll my eyes at the understatement, walking up and down the length of my living room as I talk to her, phone tucked between my ear and shoulder. “You have no idea.”
She giggles and shit if it ain't my favorite sound in the whole world.
“I fucking love that sound,” I tell her, groaning when she does it again. “Makes my dick hard.”
She snorts. “God, you're such a pig.”
“You love it.”
“Guess I do.”
A knock on my front door sounds and I frown, wondering who would be calling on me at nine o'clock on a Thursday night.
“Baby, someone's at the door,” I tell her. “I'll call you back in a sec, okay?”
We say a brief goodbye and I hang up, setting my phone down on the arm of the couch. But before I'm even able to open the front door, I hear the sound of keys turning in the lock as whoever it is decides that I'm taking too long to answer.
Already annoyed at yet another person letting themselves into my home uninvited, I walk into the hallway to greet my intruder and freeze.
“What the fuck do you think you're doing?” I growl as India steps into the hall.
Her dark hair hangs in a sharp bob to her shoulders, framing her face that's decorated in a thick layer of makeup. Like the last time I saw her, she has a beige trench coat wrapped around her body and a smirk on her face that I'm sure she intends to be seductive.
“Oh, Cole, don't be like that.” She laughs and the noise grates on me like teeth on wood or nails scraping down a blackboard. “Aren't you pleased to see me?”
“No.”
Her fingers trace the edges of her jacket before tugging them apart to reveal a slither of bare skin underneath.
I avert my eyes instantly, staring at the wall while keeping her at the edge of my periphery. “Not this shit again, India.”
But she's undeterred by the clear exasperation in my tone and the expression of utter distaste twisting on my face. She pulls the jacket from her shoulders and lets it fall away.
I can't tell you if she's wearing underwear beneath the coat or if she's completely naked, because the moment I realize what she's doing, I blind myself with a hand over my eyes. I hear it, though, when the trench coat hits the floor.
