Chapter Eighteen
NO GOING BACK
Cole
Iwas planning to bid on her the second they announced her name.
Didn’t care how high it went—I’d already decided she was mine for the night.
But I didn’t expect it to feel like this.
Now she’s standing next to me, radiating fury in sequins. My pulse is still kicking from the adrenaline of it all—half pride, half disbelief. I expected I’d have to go higher—way higher.
She keeps her arms crossed, trying to look unmoved, but the color in her cheeks gives her away. She’s flustered. Beautifully so.
The emcee’s voice fades into background noise. People clap me on the shoulder, laugh, tell me I’m a brave man. Maybe I am. Or maybe I just like doing stupid things that feel good.
Because right now? Winning her feels so damn good.
She says something under her breath—probably an insult—but I’m too busy watching the way the light catches in her lavender hair, how her pulse jumps at her throat. The part of me that runs into burning buildings thinks this is the same kind of rush. Only more intense. Because it’s personal.
Andi Callahan. The woman who never flinches, even at death, now glaring at me like she’s rattled and doesn’t know what to do about it.
If this is what losing control feels like, I’ll take it.
“You okay?” I ask.
She narrows her eyes. “Are you insane?”
I grin. “Debatable.”
She huffs, crossing her arms. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I think the words you’re looking for are—thank you, Cole.”
Her mouth opens, then shuts again. She’s still flushed, her eyes wide, and honestly? I can’t stop staring. The sequins on her dress catch the light just right, and her hair’s slipped a little from whatever fancy twist she tried for—but it just makes her look more like her. Gorgeous. Real.
“Come on,” I say, nodding toward the side door. “Let’s get out of here for a bit.”
She hesitates, but curiosity wins.
“Where are we going?”
“Somewhere better.”
I guide her through the hotel, past the catering staff and guests still buzzing from the auction, until we reach the back hallway. She shoots me a look.
“This better not be a broom closet.”
“Trust me.”
I head toward the old lounge—the one that’s been waiting almost a decade for a remodel. It’s half-hidden behind the main ballroom. But before we can enter, one of the waiters spots me and grins. “Cole? That you?”
“Hey, Mark.” I clap him on the shoulder. “Think you can hook us up? We need to hide out for a bit.”
He winks. “For you? Always.”
Then I push open the door and usher Andi in. It’s just like I remember it. Cozy, dimly lit, and partially used for storage—with scattered tables on one side and big mismatched armchairs on the other. A fireplace that’s just for show, but it’s quiet.
“How’d you find this?” she asks, looking around.
I shrug. “Used to valet here in high school. Spent a lot of time figuring out where to hide during breaks.”
She chuckles, shaking her head. “Of course you did.”
Five minutes later, we’re sunk into armchairs, a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket and two glasses in front of us. Mark even brought us a slice of tiramisu—the fancy kind.
She eyes me over the rim of her glass. “You really do know everyone.”
“Perks of small-town life.”
The banter is easy and light, but there’s something heavier underneath. Her shoulders are still tense, like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Speaking of shoes—she’s kicked off her high heels, and damn—even her feet are cute, delicate and perfect, as if the rest of her isn’t already driving me crazy.
“So,” she says, setting her glass down, “what’s your deal?”
“My deal?”
“Yeah. You. This. Why are you still here? Why not chase after one of those nurses who bid on you? You could probably get lucky tonight if you played your cards right.”
“Yeah?” I lean in slightly, elbows on my knees. “I don’t gamble when I already know what I want.”
That gets her. Her breath catches, just enough for me to notice.
“Besides, I don’t want any of them.”
She swallows hard but doesn’t look away.
“I want to know you, Andi.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking.” Her voice is low.
“Maybe. But I’m not scared of whatever it is you’re hiding.”
She goes quiet, tracing the edge of her glass with her finger.
“You should be,” she says softly. Her eyes lift to mine, searching.
The room feels smaller now. Warmer.
She’s driving me insane.
Her long legs are tucked beside her, bare feet curled under the hem of that glittering dress—and for some reason, all I can think about is how goddamn cute her feet are.
Delicate, with toes painted some dark color I can’t quite see in the low light.
I’m not a foot guy, but for her? I might reconsider.
And her mouth.
Don’t even get me started on her mouth.
Full and soft, it tugs into a smirk every time she throws something sharp my way. I want to feel it. Taste it. I’m losing my grip, fast.
“Alright.” I grin, trying to lighten the mood before I spontaneously combust. “What was your first impression of me?”
She snorts, turning toward me. “You really want to know?”
“Absolutely. Hit me.”
She takes a sip of wine. “Big. Dumb. In the way.”
I clutch my chest, mock-wounded. “Ouch.”
She laughs, the sound soft and genuine. “Also the most tolerable of all the EMTs. And…” she hesitates, glancing at me. “Kind of cute. Or whatever.”
My smile grows, but I keep it cool. “Or whatever. I’ll take it.”
“What about me?” she challenges. “First impression?”
I don’t even have to think. “Sharp as hell. Brilliant. Didn’t want anyone to know how soft you really are.”
Her eyes narrow. “Excuse me?”
I lean in closer. “You act like you don’t give a shit, but you do. You care more than most people. You just don’t want anyone to find out.”
Her breath catches, and her eyes flick away, then back to mine.
I keep going, my voice low. “But you still show up. Still take care of people in your own way. You’re tough, Andi. But you’re also good.”
Silence stretches, thick with tension. Her gaze drops to my mouth for just a second, and that’s all I need.
I move in slowly, giving her every chance to stop me.
She doesn’t. Until we’re both leaning close—inches apart.
Our mouths meet, and it’s downright electric. The kind of kiss that rewrites every kiss that came before it. Her hand curls into the front of my shirt, pulling me closer, and my pulse jumps.
Her lips are soft, but there’s nothing gentle about the way we devour each other. It’s raw, hungry, like we’ve been waiting for this since the first second we met.
And maybe we have.
I break away just enough to catch my breath, resting my forehead against hers.
“Told you,” I whisper. “You’re not scary.”
She smiles, eyes still closed.
“Shut up, Cole.”
Then she pulls me right back in.
I kiss her like I’ve been starving for it.
But then—she pulls back. Barely.
Her lips brush mine, breath shaky. “You’re still wrong, you know.”
I blink, dazed. “About what?”
“Every time—” she kisses me again, quick, yet soft “—you brought me dessert, it made it harder to ignore you.”
My heart stutters. She leans in again.
“And every time you—” another kiss “—smiled at me like that, it pissed me off.”
I’m grinning now, can’t help it, because she’s melting and I’m gone. I kiss her again—a slow press of my mouth to hers.
She pulls back. “And every time,” she whispers, “you looked at me like I was someone worth the trouble—”
I kiss her before she can finish.
“And I should have been mad—” she kisses me again—“that you got my number from Shay—” another quick kiss—“but I would have given it to you anyway.”
I grin and press my mouth to hers.
But then—
“Hey! I thought these doors were locked.”
We break apart like guilty teenagers. A hotel worker in his mid-fifties stands frozen, holding a clipboard, his eyebrow raised.
“Shit,” Andi mutters.
I don’t think, just grab her hand. “Run.”
We’re laughing as we bolt past him, her heels dangling from her fingers, the two of us darting down a side hall as if we’re escaping from more than just a fancy gala.
We don’t stop until we hit a quiet back hallway, breathless and hearts pounding.
“Damn,” she gasps. “That’s the most fun I’ve had in a long time.”
She leans against the wall to catch her breath, and I kneel down in front of her.
“What are you—?”
“Let me help.” I take one of her shoes, holding it steady.
She braces a hand on my shoulder as she slips her foot in, the other heel still dangling. Her grip tightens on my shoulder.
I lift her second foot, sliding the heel on slowly, my fingers brushing her ankle. “Perfect,” I murmur, rising to my feet.
And then I’m kissing her. Hard. Deep.
Not the careful kind from before. This is something else entirely—raw, urgent, like I’ve been starving for this.
Her back hits the wall with a soft thud, and she makes a sound, a little gasp that shoots straight through me.
Her hands slip beneath my jacket, fingers digging into my shirt as if she needs something solid to hold onto.
The kiss is all heat and desperation. Her tongue against mine sends electricity down my spine, and I can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but press closer. My body molds to hers, every inch of me aware of her, and the ache against my zipper is almost painful.
A groan escapes me—rough, needy—and my hands find her waist, gripping her tightly as if I’m afraid she’ll disappear if I let go.
When we finally break apart, we’re both gasping. My chest heaves against hers as I drop my forehead to rest against her temple, trying to remember how lungs work.
“Andi.” Her name comes out rough, wrecked.
She blinks up at me, her eyes wide and dazed, lips swollen and parted. For once—miracle of miracles—Andi Callahan has absolutely nothing to say.
I brush my thumb along her cheekbone, feeling the heat there. “We should, uh... probably head back before someone comes looking.”
She nods, still looking slightly shell-shocked. It’s adorable.
A laugh rumbles in my chest as I ease back, putting some much-needed distance between us. “Gonna need a minute though.”
Her gaze drops automatically, then snaps back up as understanding dawns. The pink in her cheeks deepens to crimson. “Oh. Oh! Yeah, that’s—yeah.”
I shift uncomfortably, adjusting myself, and mutter a curse under my breath while she presses her lips together, clearly fighting a giggle. The sound escapes anyway—bright and delighted—and she shakes her head at me.
“Stop looking so pleased with yourself,” I grumble, but there’s no heat in it.
“Can’t help it.” She smooths down her dress, still grinning. “You should see your face right now.”
“My face? You’re the one who—”
“Who what?” She arches an eyebrow, all sass again, and there’s my girl. Back to normal. Well, our new normal anyway.
Best damn night of my life.