Chapter 13 Cosi
Cosi
In all the years I’d lived on Pine Street, I’d never once avoided my own house. Especially on a Saturday.
But I couldn’t seem to close my notebook and set my pen aside. I couldn’t stand up from my chair and get out from behind this desk. I couldn’t seem to make myself walk out of the station and go home.
Probably because home meant Ilsa, and Ilsa meant questions. Questions I couldn’t answer.
This morning, I’d scoured her property, searching for any hint as to who could have torched her shed.
I’d poked and prodded at the charred rubble, desperate for a lead.
I’d followed the track of footprints through the woods twice, hoping there’d be a clue only daylight could reveal.
I’d taken photos of the shed and the single footprint I’d found, but beyond that, I was stuck.
I’d left the cabin with cold fingers and wet boots.
There’d been no trail to pick up on the lake, and no evidence left behind by the house.
I was already starting to regret the promise I’d made her last night.
She wasn’t going to like it, but she’d have to stay another night in the guest bedroom. I refused to take her back to the cabin until I could guarantee it was safe.
That was, if she was even still at my place.
There was a good chance she’d already left.
While I’d been at the station making notes about her cabin and shed, she could have found a ride out to Cotters Lake. She could have walked to the bar and asked Trick to drive her home.
Given the way he’d looked at her on Thursday night, he wouldn’t tell her no. Hell, he’d probably offer up his own guest bedroom. Then he’d be the man pouring her coffee, trying not to drool at the sight of her in his damn kitchen.
“Fuck.” I tossed my pen aside and dragged both hands over my face. Then I pushed to my feet and walked out the door, snagging my coat from its hook as I turned off the lights.
As much as I didn’t want to deliver bad news, to see the disappointment on her face, I couldn’t avoid home forever. And I wanted to see Spencer.
He’d barely cracked his eyelids when I’d popped into his bedroom earlier to tell him I was leaving. Probably should have warned him his teacher was in the house.
I’d realized that mistake halfway to Cotters Lake. But I’d been in too much of a hurry to leave the house before Ilsa could convince me to bring her along.
Spencer would have every right to be pissed. It wasn’t my finest move.
Poor kid. I’d find a way to make it up to him.
Someday, when he was older, maybe he’d understand what it felt like to be so twisted up over a woman you couldn’t think straight.
It wasn’t going away. Why wasn’t it going away? This whole situation would be easier if I could just get her out of my head. But the more time I spent around Ilsa, the more I wanted.
I liked that we took our coffee the same way. I liked those fancy clothes she wore to school, but when she’d walked into the kitchen in a casual tee and jeans, my heart had nearly stopped. I liked the way her cheeks flushed when she’d checked me out this morning.
For the last fourteen years, I hadn’t liked many women.
There’d been the occasional hookup. A one-night stand if I was out of town for training or a meeting and didn’t have to worry about crossing paths with a woman I’d screwed in a hotel room. But even those who’d managed to briefly catch my eye had been quickly forgotten.
Until Ilsa.
Maybe all I needed was to stop fighting this attraction. To scratch the itch and move on. To invite her into my bed and fuck her out of my system.
Give in to the temptation that was Ilsa Poe.
I made sure the door to the station automatically locked behind me, then hustled to the Bronco. The short winter days meant the light was already fading, and it would be dark before dinner. The temperature was about to plummet, dropping like it had last night.
It would be a good night for burgers. There was food in the fridge, chicken and potatoes, but a detour to the grocery store gave me a few more minutes to delay going home.
The lights were all on as I pulled into my garage. Hopefully, Spencer was still at home and hadn’t run off to spend the day with Mom or a friend. He’d be a great buffer with Ilsa.
I’d definitely owe my kid after this ordeal.
With my paper grocery bag in one hand and this morning’s empty coffee mug in the other, I steeled my spine and went inside. After hanging up my coat, I passed through the living room. The intoxicating scent of Ilsa lingered in the air. Orange and vanilla. Fresh and sweet.
I liked that perfume. Way too much.
“Hey,” I said as I made my way toward the kitchen, expecting Spencer to come out of his room.
Assuming Ilsa was hiding in hers too.
But as I walked into the kitchen, I came to an abrupt halt, my brain struggling to comprehend what my eyes were seeing.
Spencer and Ilsa were sitting at the table, hunched over a textbook and worksheet.
This woman was doing homework with my son. On a Saturday.
I was fucked. Entirely.
Spencer was dressed in jeans and a button-down, his hair washed. It was a far cry from the frayed sweats he normally lived in on the weekends.
Ilsa had changed too. Gone was that tee from this morning, replaced by a thick burgundy sweater that brought out the cinnamon flecks in her eyes. She glanced up first, and the soft smile on her face was enough to stop my heart.
“Look.” Ilsa nudged Spencer’s elbow with her own. “We’ve shocked him.”
Spencer glanced up from his schoolwork. “Hey, Dad.”
“Hey, pal.” My voice cracked as I unglued my feet and walked to the fridge to unload. When the bag was empty, I folded it in half, setting it on the counter. “What are you working on?”
“Math,” he grumbled.
“We saved the best for last,” she said.
“Yeah right.” He rolled his eyes but there was a grin on his face as he focused on his paper.
I couldn’t remember a time that he’d actually smiled when there was homework within a fifty-foot radius.
He wrote something with his pencil, sliding the paper over for her to inspect. “There. Done. Is it right?”
“You tell me.”
Spencer’s eyes narrowed at the page. “It’s right.”
“It’s right.” Ilsa beamed, and it was like a sledgehammer to the chest.
That smile was mesmerizing. The kind of smile a man would do just about anything to see on a regular basis.
“Can I be done now?” Spencer asked.
“Yes. But no more sloppy work. You’re too smart to do a half-ass job. Deal?”
“Deal.” He blushed. My kid actually blushed as he closed the textbook.
He looked like he’d never been told he was smart before. Maybe all he’d needed was to hear it from someone other than myself or his grandma.
Spencer stood, the chair’s legs scraping on the floor. “Okay, I’m leaving.”
“Wait. What?” The jolt of panic was instant. Spencer couldn’t leave. He was the buffer. “Where are you going?”
“Grandma called and asked if I’d have a dinner date with her. Then we’re going to watch a movie or something. I’m going to sleep over and go to church with her in the morning.”
Oh, hell. “But I was going to make burgers. Thought we could hang out.”
“Well, you should have told me that before you left this morning.” The glare he sent me was as sharp as my kitchen knives.
So he was pissed at me. Fair.
“All right.” I crossed the room and put my arm around his shoulders, hauling him into a quick hug.
He wiggled free after a heartbeat and disappeared down the hall for his bedroom.
Leaving Ilsa and me alone.
The smile she’d had for Spencer vanished as she leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. She didn’t exactly glare but she was pissed too.
Definitely should have stayed at the station longer.
“Bye,” Spencer called as he cut through the house. The front door opened and closed a moment later.
Ilsa stood, sidestepping the chair to push it into the table. Then she did the same with Spencer’s. “Did you find anything at my house?”
“No.”
Her shoulders slumped, her eyes turning sad. Her disappointment filled the kitchen.
It was exactly the reaction I’d expected. So was the feeling of failure.
“Sorry.”
“It’s fine.” That was a damn lie. “Give me five, and I’ll be ready.”
“Ready for what?”
“To go home.”
“Just because I didn’t find anything doesn’t mean you can go home.”
“Why not? Is it dangerous?”
“It could be. And I’m not willing to risk it.”
“So, what? I just stay here?”
“Is here really so bad?”
“No, it’s just . . .” She worried her bottom lip between her teeth as she trailed off.
It was impossible to look anywhere but at her mouth. A rush of heat flooded my veins. My dick twitched behind my zipper, and I clenched my fists, willing my body to stop screwing around. This was not the time for a fucking hard-on.
“I guess I’ll take my chances anyway,” she said.
“No.” Nonnegotiable. She was dreaming if she thought I’d take her to the cabin tonight.
“It’s not really your decision.” She crossed her arms over her chest again.
“Actually, it is.” I turned and walked out of the kitchen.
I’d been cold all damn day, but five minutes in her presence and the two shirts I’d pulled on today was one too many. Unbuttoning my flannel as I headed down the hall to my bedroom, I didn’t realize that I wasn’t alone until I was nearly at my door.
“That’s the second time today we’ve been in the middle of a conversation and you walked away.”
I stopped and turned, still working free the buttons on my shirt. “That’s because the conversation was over.”
“It definitely isn’t. I want to go home.”
“And I said no.” I finished with the last button and stripped the flannel off my shoulders and arms, tossing it through my bedroom’s door.
Her nostrils flared. “Excuse me?”
I bent closer, my gaze locked with hers. “No.”
A fire sparked in her irises, a defiance that was quite possibly the sexiest thing I’d ever seen in my life.
“I will walk home if I must.” There was a challenge in her voice, her mouth forming each word deliberately, making sure I didn’t miss a single syllable.
The corner of my mouth turned up.
“You think I’m joking,” she said, chocolate eyes flaring.
“I think you’re dead serious. And I think if you really wanted to leave, you’d be long gone. We both know you don’t really want to go back to that cabin. But if you want to keep pretending, baby, then go right on ahead.”
She clenched her jaw, shifting closer to jab her finger into my chest. “Don’t call me baby.”
Fuck, she was something special.
She’d stand here, go toe-to-toe with me, and never back down. That stubborn streak was sexy as hell, and that flush in her cheeks said she did, in fact, like being called baby.
“Take me home, Cosi.”
“You’re staying, Ilsa.”
Her gaze darted to my mouth, like she enjoyed watching me say her name. Her lips parted and any shred of control I had vanished.
I wasn’t sure who moved first. But one moment, we were locked in a standoff, the next, my mouth was crushed to hers, and she had my shirt balled in her fists.
A whimper escaped her throat, the sound shooting straight to my cock. I framed her face with my hands, holding her in place as I licked the seam of her soft lips.
The moment she opened for me, I tangled my tongue with hers, slanting over her to delve deep.
She melted against me, another moan echoing in my ears as I tasted every corner of her mouth. Sweet. So fucking sweet.
I sank into the kiss, alternating strokes of my tongue and licks of her lips, loving how she met me, beat for beat.
Damn, this woman could kiss. She nipped at my lower lip. She slid her hands around my ribs, her palms molding to my back as she looped her arms around my middle. Her nails dug through the fabric of my shirt, hard enough to bite into my skin.
It took everything I had to tear myself away. To let go of her face and step back.
My chest heaved as my breaths came in labored pants. My entire body was on fire, my muscles locked and trembling.
Ilsa stared at me, her mouth wet. Eyes hooded. Cheeks flushed.
Fucking stunning.
“I don’t want to take you home,” I admitted.
“I don’t want you to take me home. But you’re a student’s parent.”
“Yeah. That kiss was probably a mistake.” Or the best kiss of my damn life.
“A big mistake.” She nodded. “It can’t happen again.”
“Agreed.”
We were two miserable liars.
“I should go,” she said. “To my room.”
“Me too.”
Neither of us moved.
One kiss . . . it wasn’t enough.
“Fuck it.”
We collided, mouths fusing as our bodies crashed together. I banded my arms around her and lifted her up off her feet.
Would I regret this?
Probably.
But the moment she smiled against my mouth, I didn’t fucking care.