In the bedroom, Cole lay on his stomach, head on his arms. The sight of his broad shoulders and muscular back caused a little flip in my lower belly. Kicking off my shoes, I climbed onto the bed and straddled him.
“I like this already,” Cole murmured.
I tapped some moisturizer onto my palms and rubbed them together. “Did you live here with a woman?”
I felt him tense beneath me. “Yes. Why?”
“There’s still some girlie toiletries in your bathroom cabinet.”
“There is? I’ll get rid of them if it bothers you.”
“No. I was just curious.” I began to work gently at the muscles in his neck and shoulders first. The low groan he emitted shot straight between my legs and I squeezed my eyes closed. This was not a sexy massage. Cole was in real discomfort. I was helping him. Dirty thoughts back into the gutter, please.
“Her name was Elena.” He sighed, his whole body relaxing under my touch. “We split up eight months ago.”
Ignoring the sharp object that seemed to have lodged itself in my chest, I went for a casual tone. “What happened?” Shannon, you are clearly a glutton for punishment.
“We dated for nine months, lived together for three of those. First time I’ve ever lived with a girlfriend. It was a disaster.”
“Why?” I held my breath, hoping despite higher reasoning that Cole had no lingering feelings for this Elena person. Rae had not told me about an Elena person, and that, in itself, caused me concern. Had she broken Cole’s heart so badly no one talked about it? Crap.
“We weren’t really compatible. You really get to know someone—” He groaned again as I found the knot that was bothering him. I began to gently work it out. “Feels good, Shortcake.” His eyelashes fluttered closed and I almost growled in frustration.
“You were saying,” I prompted, trying to sound casual.
“Mmm? Oh yeah, Elena. Yeah, you get to know someone when you live with her. She discovered that she couldn’t deal with someone as laid-back as I am—apparently it means I don’t care enough—and I discovered she was a bitch. She talked about her friends behind their backs and was always making negative remarks about people, even strangers on the street. It was when she started in on Hannah that I’d had enough.”
I couldn’t imagine anyone being mean to Hannah. She was so lovely. “Why would she start on Hannah?”
Cole grinned. “You like Hannah, don’t you?”
“Eh, yeah. She’s a pregnant superwoman. She’s a teacher, she’s a mum, she’s a stepmum, she’s a wife, and she’s smart and organized and caring and somehow manages to be all those things while looking absolutely amazing. I kind of want to be Hannah.”
He chuckled. “As nice as that it is, I like you just the way you are.”
I grew quiet at the compliment and stopped to put more moisturizer on my hands.
“Anyway,” Cole continued, “all of my girlfriends have had an issue with my friendship with Hannah. Elena never seemed bothered by it until one day . . . she just was. She started making underhand comments about Hannah, and then accusing me of being in love with her, until I couldn’t take it anymore. We broke up.”
I started massaging him again. I was relieved, but I really wished I didn’t feel that way. Relief suggested real feelings were involved here. I shrugged the relief off. “It might have seemed out of the blue to you, but these things rarely are. Someone probably made a comment and she twisted it into something irrational. I’d take a guess it was one of her friends.”
“You think?”
“Yeah.” I curled my lip in annoyance. “Girls are idiots. Especially when it comes to attractive women. One of her friends probably got a look at Hannah and how gorgeous she is and then said something about you two until it made Elena paranoid about your friendship.”
“Fuck. You’re probably right,” he grumbled. “Why do women do that?”
“Pfft, don’t ask me. They confuse the heck out of me most of the time too.”
“Makes them interesting, though.”
I laughed. “If you say so.”
“You confuse the hell out of me,” he said. “But I’m enjoying it so far.”
“Cole Walker, the patience of a saint.”
“Is that what they’ll put on my gravestone?”
“That and ‘tattooist by day and time-traveling immortal highlander by night,’” I teased.
His body shook with amusement beneath mine. “You never did dye your hair pink.”
“Ach, it has sentimental value. It’s the only thing I have in common with my mum.” I quirked an eyebrow. “On second thought, maybe I should dye it.”
He tensed under my hands. “No taking your family problems out on your hair.”
I smiled. “I’ll make a deal with you . . . I won’t cut or dye my hair for the next six months.”
“No deal.”
“Why?”
“You’ll not touch your hair for the next millennium.”
I grinned again and started working his upper back. I would never actually change my hair, so it didn’t hurt to concede. “Okay, since you like it so much . . .”
Cole relaxed again and we fell into a comfortable silence as I continued to massage him.
A little while later I heard a snore.
He’d fallen asleep.
My first instinct was to curl up next to him.
However, my brain told me not to get too attached. Cuddling up for a nap with Cole was definitely something I’d do if we were in a relationship. But we weren’t in a relationship. You couldn’t be in a relationship unless you trusted the person you were in said relationship with.
Ugh, I was giving myself a headache.
I slipped off the bed as stealthily as possible and gently eased the duvet over Cole. I ventured back into the kitchen for the takeout, my cheeks flooding with heat as I remembered what had happened on the table the night before. I still hadn’t asked Cole why he’d taken me into the kitchen for sex.
Hmm.
With a plateful of heated-up chicken-fried rice and curry sauce, I made myself at home in the sitting room. Saturday night television wasn’t brilliant, but it would do. I turned the volume low on a talent show so I wouldn’t disturb Cole.
Half an hour later I heard the sounds of his waking. Eyes on the door, I waited for him to appear, his footsteps coming fast down the hall toward me. Cole drew to an abrupt stop at the sight of me. He was still shirtless and his cheek was sleep creased. His hair was rumpled too. I hadn’t realized until that moment that it was possible for a man to be adorable and sexy at the same time.
His tense shoulders dropped when he took me in, curled up on the end of his sofa. “I worried you’d left.”
I shook my head and he gave me a nod before heading back to the bedroom. A few minutes later he passed the sitting room with a shirt on and headed to the kitchen. When he returned and sat on the other end of the sofa with his plate of food, he said, “Sorry I fell asleep on you.”
“Don’t be.”
“My back feels better. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Why was this suddenly awkward? I frowned at him. He wouldn’t look at me and his tone was . . . weird.
He frowned at the television. “Next time wake me.”
I frowned in return. “Not if you’re exhausted.”
He ate instead of answering, that little furrow on his brow deepening.
Was he . . . “Are you annoyed I didn’t wake you or annoyed I didn’t stay in bed with you?”
He shot me a dirty look and I had to bite my lip from smiling at his endearing disgruntlement. “No.”
I burst out laughing because he was definitely put out. That was sweet.
Now he was glowering. “What?”
I shook my head, still chuckling. “You’re the only guy I’ve ever met who’s gotten pissed at me for not staying to cuddle.” I tried to swallow more giggles, but it was impossible.
To my surprise and delight Cole’s glower melted into a slow, wicked grin. “If you’re trying to make me feel emasculated, you’re wasting your time.”