He steps back and opens the driver’s side for me, and I slip in, a little less anxious.
The drive to my building takes twenty minutes. We both park on the street, and I notice Cole taking in the pre-war buildingwith its fire escapes and modest entrance. I hold my breath, waiting for some sign of judgment.
“This is it,” I say, gesturing to the entrance with forced casualness.
“I like it,” Cole says, and he sounds like he means it. “It has character.”
Relief floods through me. We climb to the third floor, and I unlock the door to reveal Noah crouched beside my kitchen cabinets, measuring something with a tape measure.
“Harper.” Noah stands, wiping his hands on his work pants. “Perfect timing.”
I'm acutely aware of Cole beside me, taking in the plastic sheeting covering my furniture, the exposed drywall, the general chaos of renovation. My cheeks burn with embarrassment at the mess and at how small everything looks.
“Noah, this is Cole. Cole, this is Noah Ward, my contractor.”
The two men shake hands, and Noah's eyes widen with recognition. “Wait, you're Cole Maddox. Captain of the Renegades.” His face lights up with excitement. “My dad's been taking me to Renegades games since I was eight. You're a legend, man.”
Instead of the scowl I expect, Cole's expression softens. “Thanks, that's really kind of you to say.”
“Would it be too much to ask for a quick photo? My dad's never going to believe this.”
“Of course.” Cole moves to stand beside Noah as I fumble for my phone to take the picture.
This is completely different from how Cole reacted to the guys in my office. I take the picture and forward it to Noah.
“Thanks, man. This is amazing,” Noah says, grinning as he looks at the photo. “My dad is going to frame this.”
Cole chuckles. “Tell him I appreciate the loyalty. Here's hoping we can bring home some wins for fans like you both.”
“How is it looking?” I ask, stepping carefully around the plastic covering, what used to be my living room.
“Better than I expected.” Noah leads us through the apartment, pointing out the progress. “We've replaced all the damaged drywall, and the flooring goes in next week. Kitchen cabinets are being refinished off-site.
“The bathroom is completely done,” Noah continues, opening the door to reveal gleaming new tile and fixtures. “Looks good as new.”
“It's beautiful,” I say, grateful for Noah's work. “When do you think everything will be finished?”
“If we don't run into any more surprises, maybe five weeks. Six on the safe side.”
“Thank you, Noah.”
As we head out, Cole says, “I love your place. It's perfect for you. It feels like you. Cozy, warm. Real.”
The description makes warmth unfurl in my chest. “Real?”
“My place is all surfaces. Beautiful but cold. Your apartment has personality.”
Relief surges through me. Success hasn't made him forget what real life looks like.
Cole walks me to my car. “Dinner tonight?”
I nod. “I'd like that.”
“Good.” He kisses me right there on the street in broad daylight. It's brief but thorough, leaving me slightly breathless and aware that anyone could see us. “See you tonight.”
As I navigate toward my office, it dawns on me that something has shifted between us. Maybe it’s letting him into my world, and though it’s a small step, it feels significant.
I really hope that I’m not reading too much into this. Except, it’s too late. I’ve fallen hard for Cole Maddox. Because apparently, I collect complications like other people collect coffee mugs.
