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Her eyes enlarge, and she rubs her neck. "Kind of did, but he said no."
My head twists to Amanda, who's looking straight ahead. "What? When the hell did this happen?"
"Oh, years ago. So forget it. You and Cole are the relevant topic."
I face her as we arrive at my car, standing in the nearby parking lot. "Thanks for walking with me."
She gives my arms a comforting squeeze, but when the hairs on the back of my neck stand up straight, I spin around.
"What is it?" she asks, seeing my alert reaction.
"We're being watched," I say, scanning the area. Amanda lets her eyes go over the perimeters of the parking lot before she focuses her attention back on me.
"Nobody's here, Alisha. Breathe."
After another round of surveying, I let out a tense breath.Must be my imagination.I seize my car keys with shaky hands and get behind the wheel.
"Okay, go home, and before you go talk to Cole, make sure you apply red lipstick."
"What?"
Her eyes shimmer with content. "I once overheard him say to Nick and Brian that he has a weak spot for women wearing red lipstick."
"Okay, thanks for the information."
Thirty minutes later,I enter my apartment, and after closing the door, I let out a shaky breath and whisper, "Safe."
God, will this fear ever leave?I pray to God it does. Arriving in my kitchen, I grab my favorite mug out of the cabinet and fill it with water, and as I hold the cup in my hand, I chuckle at the text;Self-confidence is the sexiest thing a woman can wear.Confidence is exactly what I need tonight when I ask Cole for a specific favor. I speed over to my bedroom's ensuite bathroom to touch-up on my makeup. No time for a new outfit. This crimson jumpsuit will have to do. After rummaging through my many lipsticks, a rush of anticipation surges through me as I apply my fire brigade red color onto my lips.Let's do this.
* * *
Samantha'sbright smile appears when the door of Cole's apartment opens. I scan the living room as we make our way to the kitchen. Nobody.
"You already prepared everything?" I say, seeing the counter decorated with the ingredients for pancakes. Eggs, flour, milk, salt, sugar, and two pans.
Her eyes twinkle as she points out a few toppings and ingredients. "Look, I also bought caramel syrup, maple syrup, bananas, cinnamon, and bacon. Do you eat bacon pancakes?"
"Oh, hell yes." My stomach shows its appreciation by growling. "Where is Cole?" I ask.
"He's in his office. He had a business thing to finish and told me to knock on the door when we're ready to eat."
I lift my brow. Okay, so I have time to overthink my strategy. "Let's bake. If you make the sweet pancakes, I'll make the bacon ones," I say.
"Yeah, then I'll make my mom's special cinnamon, banana pancake batter."
When she bites her lip, I bring my arm around her shoulder and whisper, "She'll be proud, and I can't wait to try them. So let’s do this."
Her lips curl into a genuine smile, and for the next hour, we talk while making this sweet dinner. I've got to admit, I have a weak spot for this young lady. She's generous, humorous, and like her father, she has the ability to give you her undivided attention when you speak to her. A quality I appreciate in people.
Two piles of sweet and bacon pancakes later, I voice my sudden urge. "Let's place these babies on the hot plate warmer and do something fun."
Samantha gives me a side glance. "Like what?"
"Let's dance."
She claps her hands. "Oh, yes. My mom and I used to dance all the time."
She runs off and returns with little speaker boxes in her hands, which she connects with her phone lying on the other counter. "What music do you prefer?"
