Chapter 8
Ariana
FRAGILE MAN
LAYLA
We’re going out tonight. Wear something slutty.
I don’t own anything slutty.
LAYLA
Good thing you have me. I’ll be over at six.
The last thing I feel like doing is going out. But Layla gets in these moods, and I know once the fall semester starts I won’t get to see her nearly as much, so I can’t exactly say no.
Right at six, Layla is at my apartment door, letting herself in with the key I made her.
She shuffles inside, dragging a suitcase behind her that I’m fairly certain is packed full of clothes.
“I brought options,” she says, her voice strained as she hauls the suitcase into the middle of my living room. “Lots of options.”
“Yay for me,” I reply, not bothering to sound enthused.
Layla is someone who physically cannot sit still.
She’s always on the move. When she’s not in nursing school, buried in schoolwork and clinicals, she’s either traveling or partying, usually both at the same time.
One night of that kind of lifestyle and I’d need three to five business days to recover.
Sometimes I wish I were more social. More fun.
But it’s just not in my nature. I’ve never been the type to enjoy a wild night out.
It’s like I was born perpetually old, because my idea of a good time is reading until the sun comes up.
If I’m feeling particularly frisky, I might even swap my tea for a glass of wine.
“How about this?” Layla holds up what I think is a top, though it’s hard to tell since there’s barely any fabric.
I think she forgets we have very different body types and can’t always wear the same clothes. That became pretty obvious once we hit our teenage years and realized sharing closets wasn’t going to work the way it did when we were kids.
My face twists. “Too revealing. I’m trying to not have a nip slip in front of everyone we know.”
She looks me over like she can’t believe I would dare to think such a thing. “That wouldn’t happen. But it’s really a shame you don’t show off the girls more. I would love to have your boobs.”
Grabbing onto her own, she shoves them up higher on her chest as if that might make them look bigger.
“Well, gain twenty pounds and I’m sure you’ll get some that are identical.”
Ignoring my comment, she holds up another top.
This one is much better than the last—a white baby doll tank top with thick, lacey straps and tiny pink flowers dotted throughout.
It’s still way too revealing, but I think if I turned this one down, Layla would eventually force me into something made of leather that definitely showed my nipples.
“I’ll wear it,” I tell her.
She tosses the shirt to me.
On my way to my bedroom to change she says, “And you better wear jeans that can’t fit a whole other person.”
I snort to myself. I happen to like my comfy jeans, but I’ll appease her. Only for tonight.
An hour later we’re dressed and seated in a booth at the Jackalope, Red Mountain’s beloved dive bar, with Marisa. Elyse and her best friend Scottie arrived shortly after us and are already squeezed into the booth.
Layla insisted on shots, and then we followed it up with sparkling wine, so my head is pleasantly fuzzy, and the night is still young.
Maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s just me, but my mind keeps drifting back to Cole.
I thought he might’ve overheard the conversation Layla and I had the other day, but I convinced myself it was all in my head—until I ran into him and his nephew at the diner and he all but confirmed it.
Now I can’t seem to get him out of my thoughts.
Which is unfortunate, because there’s plenty happening around me that should have my full attention.
Elyse just announced she and Dominic are going to elope.
Scottie and my brother Gavin keep shooting each other these sneaky little glances that are suspicious as hell.
Something is definitely going on there, though I don’t think anyone else has noticed yet.
Honestly, I’m not even sure they’ve noticed yet.
It doesn’t help that Cole is here. He walked in with my brothers, which was unexpected enough on its own, but the second he stepped into the bar, his eyes found mine, that irritatingly knowing look already in place, and I immediately feigned a glare before turning my head.
I’m not actually mad at him, just irritated he’s likely never going to let it go.
Everyone seems wrapped up in their own conversations, so I decide some fresh air will be a nice reprieve.
And the perk of being invisible is no one will notice when I slip out.
I weave through the crowd, nodding at the familiar faces as I pass them. Red Mountain is small enough I’m sure I know everyone by name and order at this point.
I push through the back patio door, and I’m pleased to find it empty.
The smokers prefer the front patio, and the outdoor bar on this end isn’t operating tonight. People tend to stay near their vices. The only vice out here is fresh, warm air.
Claiming an empty bench, I rest my back against the wooden frame and look up at the sky. The stars are visible and bright, not so much as a cloud to mask them.
My eyes fall shut as I take a slow breath, the muffled thrum of music and laughter from inside fading into the background. The night breeze is warm against my cheeks, carrying the faint smell of dust and grapes from the fields surrounding town.
“See anything up there?”
The voice startles me even though I recognize it immediately.
“Cole!” My hand presses to my chest as I rub a small circle over my sternum, trying to settle the sudden jump of my heart. “You scared me.”
“Sorry, doll.”
I’m about to shoo him away, but one look at him tells me he might’ve come out here for the same reason I did.
He drops down onto the empty spot beside me on the bench, his shoulder brushing mine. The scent of him hits me instantly—spicy, a little sweet, and something that’s distinctly him. It’s distracting in a way I don’t appreciate.
“Did you follow me out here?” I can’t help but ask, the ghost of a grin threatening to break free.
I’m sure there are plenty of women he’d follow out here. I definitely don’t fall into that category.
He chuckles, using his pointer finger and thumb to rub between his brows. “Follow you?” he repeats, amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I’m not that creepy. I just saw someone I didn’t feel like running into, so I bolted for the first door I could find.”
I snicker, bumping my shoulder lightly against his. “Who’d you piss off? One of your monthly flavors?”
Cole lets out a low chuckle, leaning back and stretching his long legs out in front of him. The toe of his shoe taps idly against the concrete.
Being short, I tend to forget how much taller most of the population is compared to me. It’s not until I’m right up next to someone that the size difference becomes obvious. As a curvier girl, I rarely feel small, but next to Cole I do.
Even sitting beside him on this bench, he somehow takes up more space.
His shoulders are broad, his thighs long enough that his knees stretch farther than mine.
When he leans back, one arm drapes along the back of the bench behind me.
He manages to angle himself in a way that leaves me tucked into the space beside him.
“See, you say that like you assume it’s my fault.” He looks sideways at me, one brow lifting. “Maybe she’s the one who ended things with me.”
I turn my head slowly, giving him a long, drawn-out once-over. “Well, was she?”
He scratches the back of his neck, looking mildly offended. “Kind of.”
My nose wrinkles to disguise the laugh wanting to crawl out at his expense. “What does that even mean?”
“It means I started to end things with her.” He holds up a finger like he’s making a very important point. “And then she finished it for me.” He shrugs, looking equal parts defeated and mystified. “I basically got dumped.”
The laugh I was holding escapes me before I can stop it. “Oh my, Cole Benton got dumped.” I tap a hand over my heart. “Must’ve been traumatizing.”
“It was,” he says solemnly, though the corner of his mouth twitches. He slides a hand through his hair like it’s a nervous tic. “I’m a very fragile man.”
“Clearly.”
Shifting my weight on the bench, I tuck one leg underneath me as I study him.
“So where’s fancy pants tonight?” he asks, staring straight ahead.
My head tilts, wondering if I heard him correctly. “Who?”
He waves a lazy hand in the air. “The poetry prick you were eye-fucking.”
I giggle and hiccup at once, the alcohol finally catching up with me. “His name is Wes.”
He picks at a loose thread on the seam of his jeans, brow raised like he’s waiting for me to continue.
“And I have no idea what he’s up to,” I add after a beat of silence. “I haven’t seen him since he came to the winery on a date.”
Cole straightens, the movement quick enough that his knees knock against me.
“Wait.” He turns toward me. “As in he came to Ledger?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “I was working the tasting room and he was there with a woman. And of course she was beautiful and blonde and skinny and perfect.”
“Was this last Sunday?” he asks slowly.
“Yeah.” I spare a glance at him, feeling slightly exposed. “Why?”
“Is that why you were crying?”
My head jerks in his direction, eyes round and bulging. “How did you know I was crying?”
“I saw you. I was upstairs in Ethan’s office talking about the RMVA’s golf tournament.”
“Oh.” I’m not sure what else to say. I didn’t think anyone saw me during my parking lot pity party, let alone the last person I ever thought I’d see at my family’s winery.
Normally, I’d feel embarrassed hearing someone had witnessed me in a moment of weakness, but this is Cole, not some guy I’m trying to impress.
“Did he say something to make you cry?” Cole asks eventually, a muscle in his jaw popping.
“No.” I let out a dry laugh. “Someone like you would never understand.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Because I’m a guy?”