“Jesus,” I mutter as I read that message in a way I’m confident it wasn’t intended.
“Everything okay?” Casey asks with a knowing smirk.
Umm…is everything okay?
No, I’m not sure it is.
“Yep, all good. I just agreed to that date next week.”
13
FREYA
The guys won both their road games this weekend. And I watched both of them with Casey and Sutton. Kodie’s mom joined us for last night’s game. I insisted that I provide the food, so I did Mexican, and we spent the night grazing on nachos, tacos, and fajitas.
I didn’t accept the offer of more than one margarita to accompany it, though.
It was a school night, and Cole is back first thing this morning. I wanted to be fresh and ready. Although now, as I stand in his immaculate kitchen, I’m starting to wonder if a little bit of lingering tequila might have helped.
I’m nervous.
Really flipping nervous.
We’ve been messaging the whole time he’s been away. It’s been fun. I can’t remember the last time I’ve gotten giddy over messaging someone. It’s been a nice flashback to my younger years when life was exciting and I wasn’t drowning in my own mistakes.
The problem is, it’s still his messages that give me a little high, not the man I’ve agreed to go out with tomorrow night.
I wasn’t lying when I told Casey I’d agreed to the date. I had to. The way Cole’s messages were making me smile had alarm bells ringing left and right.
Maybe dating Levi would fix all that. It would give me another focus, insert another man into my life, so I don’t find myself obsessing over my boss.
I keep repeating that over and over in my head, hoping it’ll help, but it’s yet to make a difference.
Cole messaged me when he left the airport so that I could have his brunch ready. He should be here any minute.
I blow out a long, slow breath as I shake my arms at my sides.
It’s ridiculous. I shouldn’t be this nervous.
He’s just a man.
An unobtainable man.
Hell, I don’t even want a man.
And yet there’s one giving me butterflies that I can’t have.
I pace back and forth through the kitchen, waiting for that familiar sound of the front door opening. And the second it does, my heart lurches into my throat.
I swear all the air is sucked from the apartment as he walks in. There’s the unmistakable thud of his suitcase on the wooden floor before his heavy footsteps move this way.
Not wanting to look like I’ve been waiting for him, I spin around, turn the grill on to toast my homemade English muffins, and stir my hollandaise sauce.
“Honey, I’m home.” Cole’s deep voice booms through the apartment. I grit my teeth and close my eyes as a shiver rips down my spine. “That smells incredible.”
Steeling myself, I turn around with a wide smile. “Welcome home,” I sing.
He gives me a lopsided smile as he studies me. “I could get used to this,” he says, as I drop the poached egg into spinning,boiling water. I send up a silent prayer that it’s going to work the first time.
