“But …”
“But what? You think I’m going to kick you out of my bed because Zane’s crashing here? News flash, sweetheart. It’s going to take a hell of a lot more than that for me to kick your cute butt out of my bed.”
“You think my butt’s cute?” I giggled, trying to distract him. If I was going to be accused of being a bad influence, I might as well live up to it and have some fun.
“You don’t even want to know all the things I think about your butt, Grace.” Cole’s comment was deep and dark and laced with intensity.
I leaped out of Cole’s lap and took a step back before folding my arms over my chest. “Well, I never.” I huffed, pretending to be scandalized.
“There’s always time,” Cole promised as he prowled toward me. “Now, I think it’s bedtime.”
I closed the distance between us and placed an innocent peck on his cheek before turning and bouncing down the steps.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Cole’s voice boomed across the yard.
I turned around and looked at him. It was almost comical. He looked like someone had just tossed his favorite toy in the trash. His nostrils flared, his hands were on his hips, and his jaw was set. This man was a lot of fun to wind up.
“I’m just getting my pajamas,” I explained in the most sickeningly sweet voice I could muster.
I yanked open the car door, and just as I leaned in to grab the bag left on the front seat, I was tossed up in the air like a rag doll and onto Cole’s shoulder.
A loud slap came down on my ass. One that made my whole body tingle.
He stepped back and slammed my car door. My overnight bag still sitting on the front seat.
“My bag …”
“You don’t wear pajamas when you sleep in my bed,” Cole growled as he marched us toward the house and up the steps.
Chapter twelve
Cole
We fell into such an easy rhythm. Each day I’d wake before the sun, and Zane and I would drink our coffee before heading out onto the ranch and getting to work. We’d break for lunch then push on until our arms ached and our stomachs rumbled. We took turns cooking before we’d find ourselves sitting out on the porch drinking a beer, shooting the shit, and waiting for Grace.
Grace was a breath of fresh air. She breezed into my life when I was least expecting her and I’d never been so glad to be thrown off-balance. She was trying to help her sisters with the B&B, but it was more than just a job for her. Grace was trying to reconnect with them. She hadn’t shared all the details, but she’d told meenough. After her mom passed away, Grace was lost and felt disconnected from Wattle Creek and her family. Now she was back, the regret weighed heavily on her and her guilt drove her.
Morning would arrive all too soon, and Grace would crawl out of my bed and kiss me goodbye before heading back to the B&B. All day she’d help with chores and spend time with her sisters. Her relationship with Gabriella was coming along but she was still worried about Georgia. She was proving a much harder nut to crack, and I had no doubt she was making Grace work for it.
Then, each night, she’d drive back out and we’d sit on the porch catching up on each other’s day and getting to know each other. Grace was an incredible woman. She was so smart and kind, genuine and humble. She had no idea how amazing she was, and if I ever got my hands on that Ben fuckwit who’d stomped on her confidence and left her second-guessing everything she was, he’d need an ambulance.
“Grace coming out tonight?” Zane asked as he rocked back in his chair.
“I think so. I haven’t heard from her,” I answered, checking my phone only to find it sadly silent.
I still wasn’t sure where Zane’s head was at or how long he’d be here, but I would let it run its course. He worked hard and when Grace arrived, he made himself scarce without being rude. Besides, I liked the company.
“You ever think about taking her out?”
“Taking her out where?”
“Come on, Cole. You can’t be that stupid,” he accused, shaking his head. “A date. Take Grace on a date.”
Shit! I hadn’t thought of that. We’d fallen into such a comfortable pattern, it felt like we’d been together for years, not only a few short weeks, and somehow, I’d completely skipped that step.
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.”
