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“What’d you do with the money?” I ask.
He turns his head a few degrees, looking up at me in surprise. “What do you think? Gave it to the kid’s mom. Told her it was back pay and probably all she’d ever see, but if she needed anything, to give me a call.”
Oh. Well, that’s not all that bad. It’s even kinda admirable in a way. “And Gary?”
“Left town shortly after. Took me all of two days to find him. He still doesn’t send child support, but the kid’s better off without him. I just keep an eye on them.” He sighs as a shudder runs through his muscles. “I’ve never told anyone that story. You and Gary are the only ones who know about that night.”
I feel honored that he would trust me with something so secret and can’t fight the urge to hug him. Well, it’s a side hug because I mostly press my chest to his bicep and cheek to his shoulder, but that still counts in my book.
After a moment, he shifts to curl his arms around me and it’s a for-real hug. Pressed against him, I vow, “I know I’m a blabbermouth about basically everything, but I will never tell a soul an actual secret. I’m proud of you for doing such a big thing for that kid.”
He pulls back, putting a few inches between us, but it’s only to look into my eyes. Bewildered, he asks, “You’re proud that I basically robbed a guy and threatened to fuck his life completely up?”
I roll my eyes. “Well, don’t say it like that. You saved a kid from starving, like Robin Hood, taking the money from a guy who should’ve given it willingly to give to the child who should’ve received it in the first place.”
“You’re . . . something else,” he grumbles, but there’s a hint of one of his happy smiles beneath the grumping.
I don’t mean to. I don’t plan it. And I certainly don’t think about it. But I place a gentle kiss to the side of his mouth, catching the edge of that tiny smile with my lips. It’s over too fast for him to pucker and kiss me back—not that he’d want to!—but I get the quick sense of rough stubble and soft lips before I pull back and smile.
His eyes have gone dark and hard. “Don’t mess with monsters, Janey. You never know what’ll happen.”
He’s doing the cold, hard, asshole thing again in an instant, trying to put up a big old brick wall between us, but I’ve already seen behind the curtain, Mr. Oz. Grinning, I reply, “You’re not a monster. You’re a grumpy Muppet at best. Like Oscar, the grouchy one in the trashcan, who always tries to scare everyone away but secretly likes people.” I place another quick peck to the end of his nose and grin wide, proud of myself for being right about Cole from the get-go.
He does a good job at creating a forcefield around himself, and most people don’t make the effort to pass it. But if you do, he’s an entirely different person deep, deep, deep down inside.
“I’m gonna shower, but thank you for breakfast. And thank you for going to the wedding with me. It means more than you could possibly know,” I tell him. I get up, reaching to take my coffee with me, but Cole moves faster.
I don’t know how I get there, but I’m suddenly backed against the cabinets and Cole is pressed against me, a hand gripping the counter on either side of my hips to lock me in the cage of his arms. I gasp, my hands finding their way to his chest.
“I’m not who you think I am,” he growls. And then his lips are on mine.
There’s no gentle touching, no tasting, and definitely no get-to-know-ya testing. Cole takes my mouth and my breath, roughly kissing me like I’ve never been kissed before. Actually, I don’t know that what I’ve done before qualifies as kissing now that I’m experiencing this all-consuming devouring. He tilts his head to the other side like he wants to have me every way he can, and I fight to keep up, wanting him as much as he apparently wants me.
He wants me?
I don’t know what flippy-floppy world I’ve entered, but I like it here and want to stay because believable or not, the proof is pressed between us. He can’t fake the thick, hard evidence that Cole Harrington wants me, Plainy Janey Williams.
But too soon, Cole groans and presses his forehead to mine, stopping the kiss. I can feel the heat of his breath on my lips, which seem puffier than they were a minute ago.
“Don’t see things that aren’t there in me, Janey.”
I think it’s supposed to be a warning, one of his shields going up between us, but I see him, the real him, and it’s not so scary. “Don’t be afraid to let me see everything,” I challenge.
