Chapter 4 #2
He’s too attractive for his own good. He also has excellent taste in cologne.
“You’re handy,” I say.
He waits for me to go on.
I think of Bree’s visit to my house and what I learned about him from her. “You don’t do relationships.”
He nods.
“But you do do fake relationships?”
He smiles. “Can I tell you a secret?”
My heart skips, but I nod calmly.
He leans toward me, his eyes still on the road, and whispers, “You’re my first fake girlfriend.”
I put a hand over my heart. “I’m truly honored.”
“You should be. I normally have a strict two-date policy.”
I’m secretly intrigued. I’d been assuming Cole was just someone who naturally got bored of women quickly, but apparently, this is an actual policy he has. That feels different. Loaded, maybe.
“You just couldn’t help yourself when you met me, though,” I say with a dramatic sigh. “Anyone would understand. Except Bree.”
“You laugh now,” he says, “but what happens when you fall in love with me for real?”
I tweak the heater vent so it’s directed toward me. “What, tonight?”
“Judging by the way you checked me out when I got to your house, I’d say you’re already halfway there. And then there’s the way you begged for me back.”
“Right…the begging,” I say in a flat voice.
“But I don’t break my two-date policy for anyone. Not even fake girlfriends.”
“Consider me warned,” I say. “Frankly, though, I’m more worried about you falling in love with me.”
One of his brows lifts. “Yeah?”
“I mean, you’re basically dragging me on this date. I tried to break up with you, but you wouldn’t let me. Obsessed much?”
“Very much,” he says, smiling.
My heart somersaults at the way he looks at me, like he’s enjoying this just as much as I am. Which is a lot. Maybe too much.
Laney would say that’s impossible.
But that’s the point, right? Make sure tonight’s fun instead of miserable and awkward.
I pull my eyes away from Cole. “We should probably discuss what tonight looks like.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean,” I say like I’m explaining something to a child, “that we’re pretending to be dating when we aren’t actually dating.”
He shrugs. “I’ll be acting like your boyfriend.”
I stare at him, amused. “I have no idea what that means.”
“You have had a boyfriend before, right? This Brody guy, for example.”
“Brady. And yes, I’ve had boyfriends. But you may recall that you and I just met. I have no idea what acting like my boyfriend means to you. I’ve dated men that hate PDA, and I’ve dated men whose hands may as well have been glued to my body.”
“Let’s not overcomplicate this. We don’t have to plan out every touch and kiss. I’m not going to smother you or be a creep about it, but I plan to make it clear that I’m very, very into you. That’s what you want, right? It’s why I’m here?”
His words squeeze the breath from my lungs—and the part about every touch and kiss wrings whatever’s left. I nod to buy time while my lungs reinflate.
“Good,” he says. “And you’re not gonna be weird about it? I can’t sell this on my own.”
I scoff. “I’ll play my part every bit as well as you’ll play yours, okay? You don’t need to worry about me.”
He shoots me a knowing glance. “Because I’ve given you permission to be all over me, huh?”
“Yes, Cole,” I say. “My lifelong fantasies about you are finally coming to pass.”
He grins. “Sicko.” Gripping the steering wheel, he faces forward. “You wanna tell me about your friends now?”
I give him a rundown of the group, but I’m not confident he’ll remember much about the six of them given that he’s had such a hard time remembering Brady’s name.
The traffic has thinned, as have the buildings, which have mostly been replaced by pine trees, low-hanging clouds, and open space. We’re fifteen minutes from the cabin, and my nerves have started to kick in—something I don’t plan to admit to Cole.
He’s so chill about it, but this isn’t his group of friends. He’ll never see them again, so the stakes are low.
“Look,” I say, “I know you’ve got me all figured out already, and I get that you don’t want to choreograph everything, but we should at least know some basics about each other.”
“Fair enough. What basics do we need to cover?”
I lift my shoulders. “I should probably know a little about your family.”
There’s a pause. It’s just long enough to make me wonder if he’s about to refuse to talk about them.
“I’ve got a little sister, Cara,” he says. “She’s two years younger than me. Our parents are divorced. I don’t talk to my mom.” His voice is light. Nonchalant—almost. There’s just the slightest tightness to it. “What about you?”
“I’ve got two older brothers. Jimmy lives in Florida. Spencer lives in Boston. They’ve both got kids, so my parents spend their summers in Boston and their winters in Florida.”
“And spring and fall in Seattle?”
I let out a laugh. “Without grandkids to tempt them? No. They sold their house here a few years ago and got rid of most of their stuff. They travel a lot.”
Cole looks at me, but I just tap my fingers to the beat on the dashboard.
“Do you wish you got to see more of them?” he asks.
“Sure, but I understand why they do things the way they do. Mom and Dad spent half their lives raising my brothers and me. They deserve the freedom to do what they want now. Besides, my nieces and nephews are the cutest things on earth, and they’re growing like weeds.”
“Do your parents know how you feel?” Cole asks.
I glance at him. “I mean…I haven’t explicitly told them, if that’s what you mean.”
“Maybe you should.”
I narrow my eyes. “You mean guilt my parents into coming to see me more?”
“That’s one way to think of it.”
“And the other way?”
“You’re just making sure they know how you feel—what you want.”
I don’t respond. Cole doesn’t understand. My parents are retired. They have all the time in the world. If they wanted to come see me, they would. There’s nothing stopping them except desire. I’m not about to ask for pity visits.
“What do you do for work?” I ask.
“I’m a contractor,” he says. “I build stuff, flip houses, do home improvement projects…that sort of thing.”
“And subscribe to Martha Stewart Living.”
“She’s the GOAT,” he says like it’s a fact no one could contest.
I smile. Only a man entirely comfortable with his masculinity owns that sort of subscription the way he is. “Turn here.”
The landscape here is my favorite kind: a magical array of dazzling white, deep greens, and rich browns.
It’s the same every Christmas, and yet it’s never exactly the same.
The snow drapes across the hills and trees differently, like a different haircut on a person I know well.
This year, the snow levels are high, but the streets are wet.
It’s warmer than usual, and the icicles on each roof produce a constant drip, making divots in the piles of snow beneath.
We turn another corner and onto the bumpy, unplowed driveway, and our destination rises up in front of us—a large log cabin surrounded by a wraparound deck and deep green pines hanging low with wet snow.
Lights dangle from the A-frame roof, and red-bowed wreaths hang from the largest windows, matching their red framing.
Add in the forest green roof and garage, and the cabin looks like it was made for this season.
Three cars are parked out front—one of them is Brady’s—which means we’re the last to arrive.
Everyone is here, and they’ll all be waiting to see who I’m bringing. The man they believe to be my boyfriend.
My hand shoots out in front of Cole. “Wait.”
He puts on the brakes and looks at me. “What?”
My heart thumps wildly. “This is crazy. We should go home.”