Chapter 5 #2
I grab the azure mug I’ve been using every day and breathe in the rich aroma of French roasted coffee as it finishes brewing.
The guys’ kitchen is especially beautiful in the morning light.
Nothing crazy expensive, but it’s the kind of space that screams we have our shit together.
So different from the cramped galley kitchen Matt and I shared, where the coffee maker sat next to a pile of dirty dishes he expected me to clean.
The knot in my stomach tightens. I’m already gearing up for a fight. Matt doesn’t do anything the easy way.
Footsteps pad down the stairs behind me. I turn to say good morning, but the words die in my throat.
Holy shit, Cole’s naked.
Okay, an exaggeration, but he’s not wearing a shirt and his boxer briefs are slung low on his hips.
That combined with sleep-mussed black hair and a lazy grin that could probably talk a nun into sin?
Lord, save me. This man is attractive. His chest is defined, skin golden tan, and his washboard abs belong on the cover of a fitness magazine.
Great. I’m staring, again. Heat flushes through my body as I wrench my gaze away. I blame it on the lack of coffee. Trying to act normal, I grab the carafe, keeping my eyes firmly fixed on the liquid splashing into my cup.
“Morning, Red.” His voice is rough with sleep, sending an unwelcome shiver down my spine. Normally I hate when people focus on my hair because the world fixates on red heads for good, bad, and filthy reasons, but when he uses the nickname, I’m not a bit bothered by it.
He grabs a mug from the cabinet and holds it out expectantly. I pour coffee into it without looking directly at him even though I can feel the heat radiating off his skin when he steps closer.
Is it hot in here? Maybe it’s the coffee. Definitely the coffee.
“What’s the plan for today?” He leans against the counter next to me, close enough that I catch hints of the rich, masculine scent of his soap.
I’m tempted to lean in and breathe deep. I don’t, though. That would actually be creepy. “I uh, have to go get my things from Matt’s.” The words make the coffee even more bitter as I take a drink.
Cole frowns into his mug. “Do you need help?”
And put them in yet another awkward position of picking my side or Matt’s? Absolutely not. “No, I hired some help for the bigger furniture. Oh, I also put in a few more applications for rentals,” I tell him, leaving out the bit about the handful of rejections I’ve already received.
“Anything nice?”
“Livable,” I say with a shrug. “Don’t worry though, I’ll be out of your hair soon enough.”
The way he looks at me sends a rush of insecurity through me. Does he already want me gone? Matt always told me I talk too much. I purse my lips together and lift my coffee in goodbye and hightail it to my car, exhaling hard once I finally settle into the driver’s seat.
These guys probably think I’m a disaster.
Shaking off the negative thoughts before they consume me, I blast angsty music from my teen years and zip into town, heading to the house I used to call home.
There are open boxes sitting on the porch when I arrive.
The guys I hired to help me put everything in a storage unit are already getting to work.
A frown digs into my skin as I take it in.
The rest of my clothes, decorations, linens. My furniture is still inside though.
Here comes the hard part.
I take a fortifying breath and march up to the front door.
The doorbell echoes inside. I count to ten before Matt appears with a half-dressed woman clinging to his side.
Some tourist, since it’s no one I recognize, and given the way she looks at me, she’s about ready to piss on his leg to show he’s hers.
Have at him, sweetheart.
“What do you want?” Matt’s voice drips with irritation, like I’m some door-to-door solicitor interrupting his morning fuck.
“My stuff.” I gesture toward the pathetic collection of boxes on the porch. “I need my furniture.”
“What are you talking about?” He wraps his arm tighter around the blonde. “That’s everything right there.”
“Bullshit. Where’s the bed from the guest room? The dresser? My TV? The dining table and chairs?” My voice climbs an octave with each item I list.
“Those are mine.” He gives me a look that borders on evil. “You can’t come in here and trespass unless you want me to call the cops.”
The woman runs her perfectly manicured hands over his abs, and he dips his head to kiss her.
Hard and passionate and completely for my benefit.
I’m not jealous, though I am offended. The cruelty of it, throwing this in my face so soon after our breakup, proves what I already knew. He never cared about me. Not really.
Matt breaks the kiss and gives me a look like I’m something gross he scraped off his shoe. “You should go before the town starts talking.” He tips his chin toward the street.
I follow his line of sight and spot a local from the next street over, stopped in the middle of the road, gawking at us through her car window like we’re the morning’s entertainment.
Defeat is a lead blanket draped over me. I’m tired. So fucking tired of fighting for scraps of decency from a man who clearly never deserved my time.
“Fuck it.” I turn on my heel without another word. He can have that stuff if he wants to try and fight about it. I’m not stooping to his level.
“Why did you ever date her?” The woman’s nasally voice grates across my skin.
“Honestly, I don’t fucking know.” Matt’s voice carries across the yard.
I scowl and march toward the guys with the moving truck, which is pathetically empty compared to what I’d hoped to retrieve. They look at me expectantly.
There’s no reason to drag them out of town to the storage place. I pop my trunk. “I’ll still pay you,” I assure them as I grab the first box. “But I don’t want to waste your time on six boxes.”
“It’s no problem, really,” the older gentleman says, smiling kindly at me before his gaze flicks to the house.
Great. He pities me. I do my best to keep my head held high as they transfer the boxes. I pay them the four hundred dollars as agreed, stomach hollow. This was an unnecessary expense. I should be saving my money, but once again, Matt has screwed me over.
At least without all my furniture, I can get out of the storage lease I signed yesterday, but that’s hardly a victory. I’ll lose the deposit. While it’s only a hundred dollars, that’s money I could use to pay down the credit cards.
I climb into my car while anger and frustration war in my chest. I’m so mad at Matt for being such a vindictive asshole.
More than that, I’m pissed at myself for ever thinking he was worth two years of my life.
The moving truck takes off and I back out, throat burning, and head toward the guys’ house.
I need to drop all of this off if I’ll be driving clients around this afternoon.
As I drive, I try to breathe and calm myself down, but as the anger subsides, I can’t seem to shake the feeling that this whole year is going to be a mess.