Chapter 2 - Cole
I still feel her soft hand against mine. No matter how many times I flex my fingers or busy myself with dinner, she’s there. Soft, velvety skin, so much warmth, her natural, easy elegance. Why can’t I stop thinking of her?
She’s just a girl, I tell myself. I did a background check so there aren’t any mysteries.
I wouldn’t let anyone I wasn’t sure was safe around my son.
I also had an old military buddy do some additional checks into Sofia’s social media and into whatever else he could find on her.
I didn’t want to overlook any possible problem.
“I like her,” Liam says as he sets the table for us. “She’s fun and nice.”
“People aren’t always what they seem,” I warn.
“Sometimes they are. My teachers are nice. I think Sofia is nice too. She likes the flowers,” he says.
I look out the window and see her there. She’s not plucking them, she’s just stroking them with light fingers. Innocent, but strong. Most people back down from me, flinch away when I stare, or women openly flirt until I pin them under my gaze. She didn’t.
She’s young – sixteen years younger than me as my researches had shown – with gentle and inviting curves. Short, delicate, but she’s a woman that carries resilience like I carry silence – as if it’s our armor.
“Did you see her braid?” Liam asks as he keeps pace beside me. “It’s really long.”
“I noticed,” I say.
He keeps talking, jumping from one thought to the next.
About dinner. About being hungry already.
About wanting to see his friends later, while I think of those wide, hazel eyes.
The way the sun reflected in them, the gentle curiosity across her features as I studied her face.
It was impossible to be too rough with my words when she looked so fucking . .. sweet.
I take a slow breath and shake my head. Liam’s focused on how nice she is and here I am, focusing on that plus how perfect that cotton dress fits her, how thin it is over her body, and the teasing touch of her fingers.
Just a girl, I try to insist, just to get my mind off her when it’s fixed. My heart keeps pounding in my chest, faster than it should be, and I keep thinking of reasons to go talk to her when I shouldn’t.
Why would she leave a home that offered her everything? Why step out on her own when she had a safety net and parents who, by all accounts, were happy to take care of her? She didn’t run. She chose to leave. Is that bravery? She doesn’t strike me as the reckless type.
My ex-colleague was thorough in his search into Sofia. It wasn’t exactly legal, but I needed to know who I’d allowed onto my property. My son has to be safe, and that’s worth bending the law a bit.
Refocusing on Liam, I try to forget about the woman staying in my guesthouse. I don’t want her here. She’s already making things difficult. She’s already tangling my thoughts. She’s complicating things, and if I’m not careful, she’ll do worse.
***
“Dad, please!” Liam begs, tugging on my hand.
I close my eyes. He started a garden at the guest house. Tomatoes, watermelons, corn, strawberries, anything he could get seeds from. He says he’ll grow better than the grocery store and is desperate to check on it. He also knows I won’t let him go alone if we have a tenant.
Wanting to teach my son responsibility and follow through, I finally agree. Liam grabs his watering can and we head over. With any luck, our guest will be out in town, exploring, trying to make friends, or something along those lines.
She’s not.
I’m not a lucky person.
While Liam starts watering the crops and she treats him to a gentle smile as they talk about the blooms. I grit my teeth. She looks back at me, standing up and smoothing down her dress over the backs of her shapely thighs. Not that I looked. I turned my gaze back to my son.
“Dad, the tomatoes are coming in. Look, they’re already green,” he says.
“They’re doing very well. The cucumbers look good too,” Sofia agrees.
Liam gives her a proud smile and I step towards my son. I feel Sofia’s gaze on me, but I don’t meet her eyes.
“Cole, do you want to test if the strawberries are any good?”
“No,” I reply.
“I do!” Liam answers.
She washes one under the hose and hands it to him. While he decides they’re ready and starts picking them, Sofia pushes some whisps of her hair that have escaped her braid behind her ear. She clears her throat. “It’s a great garden, really.”
“It is,” I say.
She tries to make more conversation, but I keep my answers short. One word. Two, at most, until her attention shifts back to Liam. When she reaches out to touch him, I clear my throat. No one gets to just touch my son.
I don’t like how easily he warms to her either. She’s temporary. Whatever kindness she offers will only make it harder when she leaves.
On the walk back, Liam talks about how nice she is, filling the quiet. I listen with half an ear, already noticing that the wood pile by the shed is running low. The nights are still cold out here, colder than people expect.
Inside, I set him up with his favorite TV show—something about animals around the world—then step back outside.
I split more wood and stack it by the back door, enough for the house and the guesthouse both. If the temperature drops again, I want to be ready.
After that, I take the weed whacker to the area around the fire pit, clearing the overgrowth. Less risk. Fewer surprises. A clean line of sight if Liam’s out there.
The next day, Sofia tries to make herself useful around the property.
She gathers the fallen branches left behind by last night’s windstorm, moving carefully as she works.
Liam wants to help, of course, but I tell him to tend to the garden with me instead.
I handle the branches, chopping them down into manageable pieces.
Sofia waters the wildflowers, taking her time, then pauses to study the grass like she’s deciding whether it needs cutting. She helps where she can, quietly, without being asked.
I keep my distance.
There’s no reason to get entangled with this woman, and I don’t intend for my son to get attached either. She’s temporary. Helpful, yes—but that doesn’t change anything.
When she heads out the third day she’s here, I remember the faucet being problematic in the kitchen. The new drain and the latches I need finally came in, so I go inside to fix it.
Sofia’s neat. There’s a bit of clutter, but I hear the drier thumping, notice the dishes drying, notice that she keeps her presence in the living room to a minimum.
I won’t snoop. I won’t get more involved with this woman than necessary.
So I fix the faucet, focused on the task, grateful that the space under the sink doesn’t carry her scent. Or at least, it shouldn’t. And yet the idea of vanilla and lavender slips into my head anyway—warm, dizzying, inviting in a way that has no business being there.
Neither does the image that follows.
Her catching me like this. Bent under the sink. Shirt riding up. Jeans worn thin from work. The thought lands out of nowhere, sharp enough to make my jaw tighten.
What the hell Cole!
I don’t mean to wonder what she’d do. The question just appears, uninvited.
Would she keep her distance, close the space between us, test my limits? Would she climb on top of me, straddle me, tease me and work me up?
My grip tightens on the wrench.
No. That’s not her. She’d probably make small talk. Invite me to dinner. Comment on the work I’ve done. Ask questions. Want answers.
All the more reason to finish up and get out before she comes home.
Even if that means missing the sight of her lightly tanned legs. Those hazel eyes flecked with gold. The way her gaze might linger—curious, assessing, not prying, but close enough to make me feel seen.
I straighten, exhale slowly, and force my focus back to the pipe.
My dick hardens against my thigh and I squirm slightly, trying to do the work right.
I don’t need temptation. I don’t need a woman filling my head with ideas.
I just need to maintain the peace I’ve created.
Nothing else. I don’t need her, no matter how pretty she is.
No matter how soft she is. No matter how much my entire body reacts to her presence.
It’s pointless. She’ll leave eventually, even if she stays long enough to twist Liam and me in knots.
It’s my job to protect my son’s heart, his mind, and him in general.
Caring about someone only makes it hurt more when they’re gone.
I’ll protect Sofia and make sure she stays safe. But that’s the end of it.