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It’s an entire unwieldy, immense blob of verbiage, but I can’t seem to stop it from pouring forth until the idea of Cole having someone in his life hits me. He told me Louisa is his assistant. He hasn’t told me anything about anyone past, but recently, I’ve come to find out that’s not exactly enough information to rule out the existence of a significant other. On the other hand, I don’t actually know whether Henry told his co-worker about me . . . and us. Knowing him, he probably didn’t.
Cole is blank-faced staring at me.
I think I’ve scared him already. It wouldn’t be the first time my exuberance put someone off. I’ve been on several first dates that ended before the entrees arrived, but my perspective is that those guys weren’t meant for me if a little nervous chatterboxing was too hard to handle. That’s dating—seeing if your weirdness fits with another person’s weirdness in a complementary way.
But Cole chuckles deep in his chest, and my nervousness untwists itself in my chest like a shoestring knot that someone just tugged the string on. The sound is foreign coming from him, and it makes his whole face soften in a way I couldn’t have imagined. It makes him look relaxed and not at all scared. Or scary.
Ticking off answers on his fingers, he replies, “Long story. This one. No, thank God, and fuck off for the awful imagery of Kayla that way. Human, top of the hierarchy. Cole Slaw, because my grandma made it for a picnic once and I ate it until I got sick. Name didn’t stick very long because I can’t even think about it anymore without gagging.” He shakes his head like he’s ridding himself of the thought. “Uhm . . . I cataloged every question you asked, but I’m forgetting some in the middle. I remember the important one, though.” He looks directly into my eyes, silently demanding that I listen, understand, and believe this truth. “No girlfriend, wife, or anything like that. Cheating pisses me off, and it’s not something I could ever do, not for a case. And not for a friend.”
I smile at the rough raspiness that’s entered his voice, showing the depth of his feelings about cheating. It makes sense that’d be his position when he sees case after case of how devastating it can be. I like that. It’s definitely something we have in common.
And he called me a friend!
I like having friends, especially hot guy types who are willing to help me and don’t freak out when I rapid-fire questions.
Which I actually don’t remember. Embarrassed, I say, “Could you remind me what questions you answered? I kinda forgot what I asked.”
He doesn’t bat an eye, just obliges easily. “You asked how I became an investigator and my wildest case. Mr. and Mrs. Webster are by far my wildest, most interesting, and favorite case. Not because of them but because of you.”
I swear I swoon, literally spinning in a circle on my stool, at his sweet words. I’m not used to kindness, but this is more than that. Cole’s repairing damage in my soul that I buried long ago and like to pretend doesn’t exist.
He doesn’t ignore me when I ramble. He doesn’t tell me to shut up. He doesn’t think I’m stupid or boring or forgettable.
He listens. He pays attention. He cares.
It sounds like so little, but the truth is, in my experience, it’s a lot. And it’s a rare person who behaves the way Cole does. Too many people have gone the opposite way with me.
“Really?” I ask, hoping it’s not too pathetic. He lifts one wry brow, and it’s all the reassurance I need. “Thank you. You don’t understand how much that means to me.”
“It’s true,” he says once more. “As for becoming an investigator, it was mostly by accident. I went to school for a bit, but it wasn’t for me. My older brothers rocked that shit, business school all the way, though Chance struggled a bit. But not like me. I would go to classes, and boredom would set in, which led to anger, and basically, I said ‘fuck it’ to everything and dropped out of college. I was hanging out at my local bar when a guy came in, asking about one of the bartenders.” He gets a faraway look in his eyes like he’s remembering. “I figured out that he was looking for a deadbeat dad, asked a few questions to confirm the bartender was the right guy, and told the PI where he could find him because fuck that guy. He was letting his kid go hungry while buying college co-eds drinks every night.” His lips are curled in distaste as he tells that part of the story, but then he shrugs and the anger melts away like it never existed.
