18. Cole

EIGHTEEN

Cole

6:37 pm

I settle into my seat at the dinner table, still wearing my navy blue apron. The aroma of fresh lasagna fills the air, mingling with the scent of garlic bread. Buster sits across from me, his eyes twinkling as he looks at the spread.

"This looks amazing, Cole," he says, his smile warm and genuine.

Maddie, seated between us, bounces in her chair. "Can we eat now, Mommy? Please?"

I can't help but laugh. "Of course, sweetie. Dig in."

As we serve ourselves, I watch Buster interact with Maddie. He listens intently as she rambles about her day at preschool, nodding and asking questions at just the right moments. Seeing how easily he's slipped into our little world is heartwarming.

"And then we painted with our fingers!" Maddie exclaims, waving her hands for emphasis.

Buster chuckles. "Wow, that sounds like fun. Did you get messy?"

"So messy!" Maddie giggles.

I feel a warmth spreading through my chest that has nothing to do with the steaming lasagna. This feels right as the three of us share a meal, laugh, and talk. It's domestic in a way I never expected, but I find myself craving more of it.

Buster compliments my cooking as we eat, and I feel a flutter in my stomach. "This is delicious, Cole. I haven't had a home-cooked meal like this in ages."

"Well, you're welcome anytime," I say, surprising myself with how much I mean it.

Our eyes meet over Maddie's head, and for a moment, everything else fades away. There's a connection here, something more profound than I'd anticipated. It scares me a little, but it also excites me.

Maddie's voice breaks the spell. "Can Buster come over for dinner every night, Mommy?"

I laugh, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks. "We'll see, sweetie. I'm sure Mr. Buster has his own plans sometimes."

"Not too many," Buster says softly, his eyes never leaving mine.

8:18 pm

I step out onto the balcony, the lightweight night air a welcome respite after the warmth of Maddie's bedroom. Buster's sitting there, silhouetted against the city lights, and my heart does a little flip.

"Sorry for abandoning you," I say, settling into the chair beside him. "Maddie was extra-wired tonight. It took a few more minutes than usual to settle her down."

He turns to me, his smile easy and warm. "No worries. I can imagine having a guest for dinner got her all excited."

"You have no idea," I laugh, feeling myself relax. "Thanks again for joining us."

"Are you kidding? Thank you for having me. That lasagna was incredible." He leans back, gesturing at the view. "And this... I've got serious balcony envy. I'd be out here every night if this were my place."

"I am," I admit, looking out at the twinkling lights. "It's my favorite spot."

We sit in comfortable silence for a moment, and I find myself stealing glances at him. The way the soft light plays across his features, the gentle curve of his smile—it's all so tempting. Part of me wants to lean in, to close the distance between us.

But I hold back—reminding myself that at this point, with my hunch, I am essentially lying to him every moment we spend together, and I don't tell him.

The history between us, the newness of whatever this is, Maddie... It's a lot to consider.

"We don't get dinner guests often," I say, breaking the silence. "It was nice having you here."

Buster turns to me, his eyes soft. "I'd love to do it again sometime. Maybe I can cook for you two. I can't promise it will be palatable, but I can promise dessert. That's the most important part of the meal."

"Whoops. I didn't even think of dessert. I'm sorry I didn't have some fresh tiramisu for you."

"I'm just trying to deflect my bad cooking. I mean, dessert is the most important part of the meal, but this is better than dessert, sitting out here with you. So, a mediocre meal, a not-so-peaceful balcony to enjoy together after the meal, and dessert—what do you say?"

My heart races at his words, and I have to remind myself to breathe. "I'd like that," I say, careful to keep my voice steady. "I can deal with mediocre food and sub-standard outdoor space for premium company."

"Deal."

I'm cooked.

I lean forward, curiosity getting the better of me. "You know, I have to see this terrible balcony you keep whining about."

Buster chuckles, shaking his head. "It's not terrible, per se. Just... underwhelming compared to this oasis."

"Well, now I definitely need to see it," I tease. "How about a tour of your place?"

He raises an eyebrow, surprised. "Now? What about Madeline?"

I nod, feeling a little bold. "Why not? Maddie's sound asleep, and I'll bring the monitor. It's just across the hall, remember?"

Buster hesitates for a moment, then grins. "Alright, you're on. Let's go see my humble abode."

I grab the baby monitor and follow him out. As we step into the hallway, I double-check that I have my key before closing the door. I hear the soft click of my door locking as it slides into place.

A little thrill runs through me as we cross to his apartment.

Buster unlocks his door and gestures for me to enter first. "Welcome to Casa del Buster," he says with a playful flourish. "Please excuse the boxes and dirty boxers. I didn't know I would be giving the grand tour tonight."

I step inside, taking in the space. It's neat and minimalist, with a few unpacked boxes still scattered around, but nothing horrifying, especially for a single dude.

"So this is where the magic happens," I tease.

He laughs, leading me through the living room. "If by magic you mean microwaved dinners and late-night charting, then yes, this place is like Hogwarts."

We make our way through the apartment, Buster pointing out various features. It's all very lovely, but I can't help noticing how impersonal it feels. There are no photos, no real decorations. It's like he hasn't fully moved in yet.

And then I remember it hasn't even been two weeks.

Finally, we reach the balcony. He slides open the glass door and ushers me out. "And here it is, the underwhelming outdoor space."

I step out, immediately seeing what he means. It's smaller than mine, with a less impressive view. Unless, of course, you're into blacktop parking lots.

But it's not bad at all. "Oh, come on," I say, turning to him. "This is perfectly nice. There is no green space in front of you, but think of the people-watching that you can do from here. I could sit out here all night watching people come and go."

"Good point. I like how you see the good in all things. Sounds like I just needed your perspective. If I could only magically grow a green thumb like yours, a few potted plants might transform it into the perfect lair for spying on my neighbors."

I raise my eyebrows at him.

Something catches my eye as we make our way back through Buster's apartment. I pause, drawn to a plaque sitting on the counter.

"What's this?" I ask, leaning in to read it.

Buster glances over. "Oh, that. Just a little recognition from the hospital. No big deal."

But it is special. The plaque commemorates his achievements as a surgeon, listing accolades and groundbreaking procedures. I'm impressed but not surprised. I've always known he was talented.

Suddenly, I remember the text I received earlier. "Oh! Speaking of your surgical skills, I got a message from Patty Harrison today."

Buster's eyebrows shoot up. "Patty Harrison? James's wife?"

I nod. "Yeah, she and I became close friends after her husband did some restoration work on our coffee roaster. They kind of adopted Maddie and me." I smile, remembering their kindness. "Anyway, she texted to let me know you're treating James. Small world, huh?"

"It certainly is," Buster says, looking thoughtful.

"She was singing your praises, by the way," I add. "She said you've been amazing with James and really put them at ease. I think her exact words were 'an absolute godsend.'"

A mix of emotions flickers across Buster's face—pride, humility, and something else I can't quite place. "That's very kind of her," he says softly. "James is a fighter. I'm just doing my job."

"Well, according to Patty, you're doing it exceptionally well," I say, gently squeezing his arm. "It means a lot to them, you know. Having a doctor who truly cares."

I'm caught off guard as Buster's hand finds the small of my back, pulling me close. Before I can process what's happening, his lips are on mine, passionate and insistent. For a split second, I freeze, surprised by the sudden intensity.

But then, something inside me ignites. I melt into him, pressing my body against his solid frame. My arms snake around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair as I return the kiss with equal fervor.

The world around us fades away. All I can focus on is the heat of Buster's mouth, the strength of his arms holding me tight, and the intoxicating scent of his cologne mixed with something uniquely him.

Our lips move together in perfect synchrony as if we've done this a thousand times before. It's electric, sending sparks coursing through my entire body. I can feel Buster's heart racing against my chest, matching the frantic beat of my own.

The kiss deepens, growing more urgent with each passing second. Buster's hand on my waist tightens, pulling me even closer, if that's possible. I respond by arching into him, desperate to eliminate any remaining space between us.

It's as if all the tension, all the unspoken attraction that's been building between us, has finally reached its boiling point. This kiss isn't just passionate—it's earth-shattering, leaving me breathless and dizzy.

When we finally break apart, gasping for air, I'm trembling. Buster's eyes are dark with desire, mirroring what I'm sure he sees in mine. We stand there for a moment, foreheads touching, trying to catch our breath.

I'm still reeling from that kiss when Buster's hands start to roam, exploring the curves of my body with an urgency that sets my skin ablaze. His fingers trace the hem of my dress, teasing the sensitive skin of my thighs before he hitches me onto the cold, marble kitchen counter.

The chill of the stone against my bare skin starkly contrasts the heat radiating from Buster's body. He steps between my legs, his hands gripping my hips as he pulls me to the edge of the counter. I can feel the hard length of him pressing against me, and it's my undoing.

My fingers fumble with the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel the warmth of his skin beneath my palms. I yank the fabric free from his scrubs, raking my nails down his chest and abs, eliciting a low growl from deep within his chest.

Buster's hands slide up my thighs, pushing my dress around my waist. His fingers hook into the waistband of my panties, dragging them down my legs with a deliberate slowness that makes me ache with anticipation.

"You're so damn beautiful, Cole," he murmurs, his voice husky with desire as his gaze rakes over my now exposed center. The hunger in his eyes sends a rush of wetness between my legs, and I can't help but squirm under his intense scrutiny.

With a swift motion, he claims my mouth once again, his tongue delving deep as he positions himself at my entrance. I'm more than ready for him, throbbing with need. And then, with one powerful thrust, he's inside me, filling me completely.

The sensation of him stretching me and possessing me is almost too much to handle. I cling to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as he begins to move, establishing a fierce and deliberate rhythm.

Each thrust hits a spot deep within me that sends waves of pleasure crashing over me. I can feel the countertop digging into my back, but the discomfort only heightens the raw intensity of our lovemaking.

Buster's hands roam freely, cupping my breasts through the fabric of my dress, teasing my pebbled nipples between his fingers. The sensation sends jolts of electricity straight to my core, causing me to cry out in ecstasy.

"Buster, yes," I moan, my voice barely recognizable to my own ears. It's as if all the pent-up desire and emotions we've been dancing around are pouring out of us in this single, explosive moment.

He captures my lips once again, swallowing my cries of pleasure as he drives into me with renewed vigor. I can feel the pressure building inside me, a mounting tension that's about to snap.

Buster's hand slips between us, finding the swollen bundle of nerves at the apex of my thighs. His skilled fingers circle and tease, pushing me closer and closer to the edge.

"Come for me, Cole," he commands, his voice a low rumble against my ear. And with a few more expert strokes, I shatter around him, my orgasm ripping through me like a tidal wave.

He follows me over the edge, his body tensing as he finds his release. I cling to him, feeling the pulsations of his cock as he empties himself inside me.

We stay like that for a moment, our bodies slick with sweat, our breaths coming in ragged gasps. Buster rests his forehead against mine, and I can feel the rapid beat of his heart against my chest.

As our breathing slowly returns to normal, Buster pulls away slightly, his hazel eyes searching mine. There's a tenderness in his gaze that I haven't seen before, a vulnerability that tugs at something deep within me.

He presses a gentle kiss to my lips, a stark contrast to the wild, passionate fervor of our lovemaking just moments ago. It's a promise, a silent vow that things between us have changed, an acknowledgment that this was more than just sex.

Buster lifts me off the counter with great care and sets me on my feet. He helps me straighten my dress and smooth my hair, our hands brushing against each other in an intimate dance.

I'm still trying to wrap my head around what happened between us when Buster takes my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. He gives my hand a reassuring squeeze, and I know that something fundamental has shifted in our relationship no matter what happens next.

And as we stand there, hand in hand, I have to wonder, Where do we go from here?