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That was definitely the wrong thing to say.
Gabriella’s brows climb her forehead, and her eyes go wide in displeasure. “That means he’s married,” she tells me gently. But then her temper flares up in my defense. “Probably has four kids with three different baby mommas, a job that he ‘travels’ for, and is likely a felon. That’s basically like a guy telling you he’s an FBI agent, and ‘he could tell you things, but then he’d have to kill you’.” Fired up, she turns to Mason and accuses, “Why do guys think that’s funny? We’re out in these streets, fighting for our literal lives, and they joke like that? No sir, no thank you. Automatic block and report.”
And I’m reminded all over again about why I’m not going for drinks with Mason. The dating scene is awful and I want no part of it.
I’m going home, reading a book, and maybe looking up shelter cats to happily start my spinster collection. Because I’m enough—me, myself, and I.
CHAPTER15
JANEY
And that’swhat my life becomes. Day after day, go to work, smile, gab with everyone, go home, and bury myself in my books.
At least, until the day Gabriella tells me she found something. Which is how I find myself pacing back and forth in front of a nondescript building on the edge of downtown Bridgeport. I watch my reflection in the mirrored windows.
“Go in. What’s the worst that could happen?” I tell my reflection. Of course, I’ve got a reply. I’ve always got a reply. “He’s married like Gabriella warned and his gorgeous wife is inside with their adorable mini-Coles crawling around on the floor. My ovaries explode, my heart breaks, and I say something stupid like ‘I can’t stop thinking about your stupid half-smile because you made me come more times in twelve hours than I have in the entirety of the last year.’”
A man who is walking by overhears me and says, “Well, hi there.”
Embarrassed, I wave but keep my pacing loop of indecision, and he drifts off, leaving the crazy lady, even if she is spouting out sexual nonsense on a busy sidewalk in the middle of the afternoon.
He’s not married. Gabriella is pretty sure of that. In fact, she eventually agreed that Cole’s online presence looks as clean as he said it did but warned that I should still be cautious.
“Maybe he’ll be glad to see me?” I suggest to myself.
Still, I should’ve called. That would be the reasonable thing to do considering he gave me his phone number. But I’m not doing reasonable anymore. Part of the New Janey regime is that I’m making big moves. If it’ll make me happy, I do it.
Which is why I’m here.
Cole made me happy. In the ugliest of moments, when the worst thing I could’ve imagined happened, he supported me and made me smile. And I want to tell him so.
I approach the door, noting the engraving on the frosted glass,BS Consulting. I giggle a little, wondering if it actually means bullshit. That’s the kind of thing Cole would do, especially when he’s handing clients’ bullshit all day, every day.
Inside, I enter a large room that’s almost empty. Immediately in front of me is a white modular desk, where a pretty blonde woman sits with a welcoming smile. To the right is a grouping of four chairs and a coffee table. It’s sparse, modern, and vaguely expensive-looking for being nearly bare. Like an art gallery.
“I wondered what you were going to decide,” the blonde says, sounding amused but polite.
When I don’t answer and look at her in confusion, she points to the windows with a bemused expression. Yep, they’re completely transparent on this side. “You could see me pacing back and forth?” I question stupidly.
Her smile grows, but it seems friendly. “Sure could. Can I help you?”
“I’m looking for Cole Harrington,” I blurt out. “My friend—well, she’s my boss—helped me track him down. He’s a hard-to-find man, like nearly impossible, but Gabriella—that’s my friend-slash-boss—is good. Like Cole-should-offer-her-a-job level good,” I recommend with a nod. “Once she had his name, she looked up property records for the county. There’s a bunch, especially under C. Harrington, but a lot of those seemed like they might be Cole’s brothers’ properties. This one seemed different, so I thought maybe it was his. Is it?”
Her eyes get wider and wider as I spill out Gabriella’s entire research process in a single breath.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have come. I’ll just go.”
I turn to make a run for it, but a door I didn’t see opens across the room. Andhecomes in. Big as life, twice as sexy, and crossing the open room like he’s about to conquer the world... or tackle me. I don’t know which, but just seeing him again stops my heart for a moment. He’s in a light blue dress shirt today, one of those types with a white collar and cuffs, to go with his black pants, no tie, but shined dress shoes that click on the tile of the foyer.
And I want him. God help me, I want him.
“Janey?” Cole growls, snapping me back to reality. “What’s wrong?”
“Uhm, what?” I squeak. “Nothing, nothing’s wrong. I was just in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by.” Instead of explaining how I tracked him down again, I say, “Did you know there’s an Italian place around the corner that’s been there since 1924? It was a speak-easy during Prohibition years, or at least that’s what the sign out front says. I passed it a few times as I was walking the block, trying to talk myself into coming in.”
“She doesn’t have an appointment,” the receptionist offers.
Not listening to either of us, Cole is suddenly in front of me, his blue eyes scanning me head to toe like I might be broken, physically or mentally. Little does he know, despite my current attack of nerves, I’m the best I’ve been in years.
