I’m cleaning the kitchen when he returns, dressed in jeans and a fitted white T-shirt. Wherever he’s going, he’s going to have the attention of every woman within a mile radius.
A little jealousy flickers inside me, but I quickly banish it.
Cole is your boss.
Cole is your boss.
“Come with me,” he says, stopping my little chant.
“What?”
He chuckles. “I want to show you the guest room.”
“Oh, okay.”
I follow him like an obedient puppy.
“You haven’t been down here, have you?” he asks over his shoulder.
I can’t help but wonder if he’s digging to find out if I’ve been snooping. I’ve been left here alone most days. But no. Not once have I wandered past the living area.
“No. I’ve had no reason to.”
“This is my room,” he says, gesturing through an open door.
I peer inside, amazed by how tidy it is.
Like the rest of the apartment, it’s minimal with a huge bed covered in white sheets.
“Behind that wall is my bathroom.”
“Nice.”
“And this is the guest room, also complete with its own bathroom.”
“It’s beautiful. The bed looks comfy.”
“It’s the same as mine. No one has ever slept in it, though.”
“It definitely needs christening then,” I say without thought.
“Freya?” Cole says, turning to me while I stare at the thick carpet beneath my feet, wishing it would swallow me up.
“Yeah,” I mumble.
He reaches out, and I freeze when his warm fingers touch my chin and he tilts my head back.
“You’re more than welcome to stay here whenever you like. I just ask one thing.”
“Name it,” I whisper.
“No guys. If you’re dating, then…”
“Oh god, I’d never. You don’t need to worry about that.”
His eyes hold mine as I crane my neck to keep contact.
“Good,” he states. “I want you to feel at home here.”
