“Telling him might be more for you than him.”
I leave without saying a word, stomping all the way to my car. I don’t know what Tracker is trying to do, but this. . .whatever it is, it’s seriously pissing me the hell off.
I climb into the SUV, not in the mood to deal with an hour of questions filled with the girls’ ridiculous drama.
I suck in a breath, holding it until it’s painful, and I’m forced to exhale. Although maybe they’re exactly what I need in order to remove the coil of fear tightening around me.
As I drive, Tracker’s words float through my mind.
You don’t need to be afraid of him knowing.
I want to laugh. Not needing to be afraid is one thing. Having to face what I’ll see in his eyes is entirely another.
After last night and whatever happened on that dance floor that I can’t seem to shake, I’m not sure I’m willing to gamble.
______
Through the coffee shop windows, I see my posse poised and ready at the front corner table. I tug the door open, and all three pairs of beautiful eyes snap to me, full of elated anticipation.
The lunch crowd hasn’t arrived, and the place is still quiet.
I drag my grumpy, disturbed ass to the hot seat and plop down. “Let’s make this quick. Spill your over-the-top reactions and ridiculous assumptions.”
Jos snickers while Jamie and Van contort their lips, trying to hide their grins. It’s as if this whole thing is the highlight of their entire year.
I glare at them.
“Oh, put that sour-grapes attitude back in your pocket,” Jos says, lifting her wide mug to her mouth, pretending she’s not thoroughly enjoying my torture. “The faster you get to talking, the sooner you can get back to The Assignment.” She croons the last part, and I seriously regret coming here.
“What do you want to know? You’ve scoured the internet, inspected each picture from every angle, and thoroughly dissected and discussed all details at length. What more can you possibly want to know?”
Van leans forward, resting her arms on the small table, and sets her muffin down. “First, let me just say you killed it in that dress.” She brushes her fingers off, preparing to dig in.
Fan-tastic.
I don’t need her astute observations anywhere near me right now.
“Ry, you looked amazing,” Jamie adds quietly, her eyes turning soft. “You can’t tell us Cole didn’t notice.”
“Oh, we saw the pictures. Hedefinitelynoticed.” Jos adds distinctly as if this is breaking news. “But,” she puts her finger in the air. “What I really want to know is, would he catch a grenade for you?” she sings loudly, and a couple in the other corner stares at us.
These girls laugh, their heads falling back, and dammit, a smile tugs at my lips despite every stubborn fiber within me. I love them as much as I despise them and their hopeful antics.
“Guys, this is a job.” I’m tired and worn and unable to handle any more confusion about all this. . .potentially fluffy emotional shit floating within me.
“Ry.” It’s Van’s direct tone this time. “You can either struggle with this all on your own, or you can let us in.”
I glare at her. She’s like Tracker, bossy as hell.
My entire body sags into the chair, giving up the fight. I don’t often surrender, but I have no idea what to make of what’s happening, and these chicks know it.
Damn them and their instincts.
If they only knew the riot taking place inside me. Cole’s confused, retreated demeanor that I want to completely decimate, versus giving him more of me than I already have—parts I don’t want anyone to see, and most recently, especially him.
I fiddle with the corner of a napkin on the table. “It wasn’t a big deal. He led me onto the dance floor, and we danced.”
I won’t be telling them that Bruno was playing, and Cole recognized it.
