8. Cole

CHAPTER 8

COLE

V egas was hell.

Vegas was heaven.

Schrodinger’s city.

Cole had spent half the morning arguing with Edna Lassiter from Iowa, who’d complained long and loud that her room didn’t have a coveted view of the Strip. It didn’t have a view of the Strip because she’d booked a budget double that overlooked the hotel next door, and she didn’t want to pay the upgrade fee. In the end, he’d given her the upgrade for free because he was getting a headache, only for her to return twenty minutes later to complain the new room was “too beige.”

A half hour after that, when housekeeping had found her four red cushions and two pink ones, she’d announced she was allergic to velvet.

Once he’d upgraded her for the second time, Cole had left the hotel so he didn’t end up getting arrested, but now it seemed he owed Mrs. Lassiter a big thank you.

Because Bella was fucking fascinating.

Confident, adventurous, breathtakingly beautiful… And now he could add fierce to the list. Cole tended to prefer di plomacy over force, but that prick had deserved a bruised rib. Did he treat all women that way?

“If you want, I could pick up your dog treats while you wait in the car,” he offered.

“I’m not an invalid.”

“Didn’t figure you were, but when I broke my leg, the doc kept telling me to rest it.”

She looked at him curiously. “Was it a bad break?”

“I had some nice metalwork in there for a while. But I was a kid, and it’s easier to bounce back when you’re young.”

“You’re hardly old now. What are you, twenty-nine? Thirty?”

“Twenty-eight.” Cole was tempted to ask Bella her age, but his mom would turn in her grave if he uttered the question. Never ask a woman her age, her weight, or her dating history; those were the rules. “That’s a fancy cast you have.”

“When the doctor offered me one I could wear in the shower, I almost hugged him. It didn’t even cost extra. Apparently, they’re trialling a new type of 3D printer.”

“I had to tape a trash bag over my leg, so you definitely picked the right decade to break a bone. I’ll carry the basket.”

Cole kept pace with her as she hobbled into the store, and it struck him that this should feel more awkward than it did. On Emerald Shores, he’d once made the mistake of spending the night with an instructor working at the dive school, and their conversation had been limited to red-faced hellos and stilted small talk until she left the island.

“What?” Bella asked, turning, and Cole realised he’d stopped near a display of parrot toys.

“Nothing.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, this is just less uncomfortable than I expected. ”

Now those pretty brown eyes narrowed. “You expected to meet me again?”

“Expected? No. But I can’t say I didn’t hope I would. You blew my damn mind.”

“So you’re saying you think with your dick?”

A memory flashed into his head, of Bella with her head between his legs, her dark hair falling over his thighs.

“Apparently, around you I do. But I don’t recall hearing any complaints about that when you picked me up in a hotel bar.”

Bella laughed. “I give you an A for effort.”

“An A for effort? How about technique?”

She wrinkled her nose. “A B-plus?”

Before Cole realised what he was doing, he’d backed her up against a stack of economy-sized bags of dog kibble, his body pressed against hers.

“The way you gasped my name says you’re lying.”

“Your stamina could use work. It was barely two a.m. when you passed out.”

“I’ll admit I slept until lunchtime, but in my defence, I’d been having a hellish day until I met you.”

“A hellish day, huh? And yet you were drinking straight cola in the bar. If I have a hellish day, I’m ordering a shot of Jack Daniel’s at least.”

“Until you decided we were crashing a party, I’d been planning to drive home.” Cole pinned her wrists against the bags of kibble, and the crutches fell to the floor. “And I think stamina falls under the effort category, not technique.”

“Are you sure about that? I mean, you tried really hard,” she said, arching into him, and his cock began to stiffen. Totally inappropriate given the location, but he couldn’t tear himself away. “Really, really fucking hard.”

He leaned in closer. “If there’s a next time, I’ll make sure I get some sleep first. ”

Her turn to stiffen. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

Inwardly, Cole cursed himself. He hadn’t dated for years, not seriously, not since Gretchen blamed him for her cheating and told him he just wasn’t ambitious enough to make a good husband. That she needed a provider . Maybe some men would have taken that as a challenge, but he didn’t want to climb the corporate ladder and become a CEO, and living in a McMansion was his idea of hell. Working fifty hours a week just to afford healthcare and payments on a Lexus? It would be a slow death. His mom had always said he had a wanderer’s soul, so instead of sticking around in San Diego to watch Gretchen and his ex-best friend set up home together, he’d quit California and gone to volunteer at a turtle sanctuary in San Gallicano for three months. And when his savings ran out and he still couldn’t face returning to the US, he’d hopped over to a different island, taken a job as a deckhand on a dive boat, and embraced the Caribbean lifestyle.

And now, during the second-worst period of his life, he’d met a woman who’d gotten right under his skin, but she didn’t feel the same way.

“Which part isn’t a good idea?” he asked. “The extra sleep, or the repeat performance?”

“Hey, lady.” Bella stood on tiptoe and looked over his shoulder. “You make a habit of eavesdropping on private conversations?”

Cole turned to see a forty-something woman in a burgundy pantsuit pretending not to look at them. When Bella didn’t drop her stare, the busybody shook her head and tutted.

“We’re in a pet store .”

Bella looked around, feigning surprise. “Well, gee, honey. You said you were taking me to a swingers’ club. Hey, sweetheart,” she called to a gent hovering in the background, presumably the woman’s husband. “If you need a break from the wife, gimme a call. I wouldn’t blame you.”

The woman gasped and grabbed her husband’s arm, but not without a parting shot. “You people disgust me.”

Cole dropped Bella’s hands and picked up the crutches. “Is that your not-so-subtle way of changing the subject?”

“I’m a one-and-done kind of girl. Feelings give me the ick.”

“Who said anything about feelings?”

“The last time I broke my rule, the guy lasted a month before he started bitching that I wasn’t picking up his calls fast enough.”

“Then don’t even give me your number.” Hell, now he sounded desperate. “It’s just… You know where I live. If you’re feeling…” What was the right word? “If you’re feeling…”

“Needy? Horny? Like I need a good dicking from a virtual stranger?”

She was so damn blunt, and he felt his cheeks heat. “All of that. Anyhow, come over whenever you want.”

“What if you’re with another woman?”

“I’m not going out in Vegas to pick up women.”

“Okay, what if another woman picks you up?” Bella ran a fingertip down his jawline. “You didn’t put up much resistance.”

Trying to explain that he’d never done that before and probably never would again would be a wasted effort. He couldn’t tell her that she was unlike any woman he’d ever met before, that she was special, because there was a risk she’d interpret that as feelings. And she might not even be wrong.

“Fine, I’ll put a sock on the door handle. Happy?”

It was a rhetorical question, but she seemed to give it some thought. Finally, she shook her head .

“I don’t think I’ve ever been truly happy. I’m not even sure I’m capable.”

He opened his mouth to offer sympathy, to ask why she felt that way and what he could do to change things. But then he caught himself. Bella isn’t like any woman I’ve ever met before. She didn’t want him to act as a therapist, and what if this was a test?

He kissed her chastely on the forehead. “This is all getting a bit deep. Don’t you need to buy dog treats?”

“I do,” she said and smiled a genuine smile. “Don’t forget the basket.”

A half hour, seven kinds of dog treats, and three flavours of cat food later, they made it back to Bella’s car just as the tow truck pulled up. A young guy jumped out wearing a pair of overalls and a back-to-front ball cap.

“Thelma’s up to her old tricks again?”

“Thelma?” Cole asked.

“My car.” Bella’s don’t-you-dare-to-say-a-word look made Cole bite his tongue. “She coughed a couple of times and cut out as I was driving.”

“I’ll have her loaded up in a jiffy. Did she overheat?”

“Nope.”

“Could be a fuel problem. A faulty fuel pump or clogged filter. We’ll get her going again; don’t worry.”

“Do you need a ride home?” Cole asked her.

“No, it’s fine. Your lunch break must be nearly over by now.”

“It won’t matter if I’m a few minutes late.”

There were perks to owning the company. Not many, but some. And the longer he could avoid Mrs. Lassiter, the better. She was probably making herself at home in the presidential suite by now.

“I’ll call a cab.”

“Hey, I can drop you off,” the tow truck driver offered. “ I mean, you’re one of our best customers. And you’re only over in?—”

Bella squeezed Cole’s arm. “Actually, a ride would be great, as long as you won’t get into trouble with your boss.”

“He’s a pretty reasonable guy.”

They watched as Thelma was hoisted up onto the bed of the truck and strapped securely in place. She really was a stunning car, mechanical issues excepted, and now that Cole had begun getting to know Bella, he saw they suited each other. Both were quirky, fine to look at, and a little wild. And definitely more fun than a Prius.

He helped Bella back into the passenger seat and slid behind the wheel.

“Where to?”

“Any chance of making a quick stop at the grocery store? That was the next task on my list before Thelma broke down, and I’m out of milk, butter, and granola. And bread. And pasta. Basically everything. With the cast on, it’s not so easy to get around, and I’ve turned into a virtual hermit.”

“Sure, we can make a stop. You been managing to work?”

“A broken leg doesn’t affect my ability to type. Not much, anyway. I was zonked out on painkillers for a day, so one of the girls in my writing group helped out. Luckily, the client was understanding.”

“Must be nice to have folks you can rely on,” he said without thinking.

“You don’t have a good team?”

How was he meant to answer that? It wasn’t that the team was bad—they were friendly and tried hard—but Uncle Mike had spent years micromanaging everything from the menus to the room allocations to the gaming tables, and now that he was gone, nobody really knew what to do. Including Cole .

“Good people, but they lack direction. Just because someone’s a nice guy doesn’t make them a good manager.”

“That’s true, but if someone’s a shitty person, they’re usually a shitty manager too.”

Bella’s phone buzzed, and she tapped out a message, frowning.

“More man trouble?”

“If there’s trouble, a man’s usually at the root of it.” She glanced across as he started the engine. “No offence. Just my experience.”

She wasn’t entirely wrong. Uncle Mike was the cause of Cole’s current problems, quite an achievement from the afterlife. And even though Gretchen had broken his heart as well as breaking off their engagement, what had hurt the most was Marcus’s betrayal. They’d grown up together. Cole had defended him from bullies in elementary school, helped him with assignments in high school, and let him sleep on the couch when his stepfather kicked him out. And how had Marcus repaid him? By stealing his fiancée.

“Yeah, we’re mostly assholes,” Cole agreed. “Walmart okay?”

“You mind if we go to Happy Valley Grocery?”

It was ten minutes farther, but that was an extra ten minutes he got to spend with Bella.

“I don’t mind at all.”