21. Cole
COLE
Ifeel Bailey’s eyes on me as I stare down at the menu, not reading it, just choosing to look at it because if I don’t, my eyes will take on a mind of their own and wander right across the diner to where they have no business wanderin’.
“What are you thinkin’?” I rub my chin, scanning the fare.
Suddenly the menu is ripped right out from underneath my nose and I snap my chin up to find Bailey gaping at me like I’ve got two heads instead of the customary one.
“What am I thinkin’?” She guffaws. “Boy, this menu ain’t changed since before we was born.”
I refrain from rolling my eyes, instead shifting in my seat and averting my gaze to the window, to the nothingness of darkness as it settles outside.
“So, that’s her, huh?”
I don’t look at Bailey. I can’t. I don’t want her to see it. The truth. The truth I ain’t even admitted to myself yet. Instead, I grit my teeth and say nothing.
“She’s pretty, Cole.”
I exhale a bored sigh, forcing my gaze to her and deadpanning, “We eatin’ or what?”
Folding her arms across her chest, Bailey twists her lips to the side in some pathetic attempt to conceal her knowing smirk, but the smile is there sparkling in her eyes, and I’m about five seconds away from hoping up and walking straight on out.
Leaning forward and narrowing an eye, Bailey studies me. “How long have we known each other?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. Fuckin’ forever.” Too damn long, if she keeps this shit up.
She nods. “And how many times do you think I’ve witnessed you, Summer’s ‘playboy’ Cole Dawson”—she rolls her eyes, using her fingers as air quotes as she says that—“stumble over his own damn words when talkin’ to a woman?”
Pursing my lips, I throw her a long, levelled look.
Bailey pinches her thumb and forefinger together, making a perfect circle. “Zero.”
I do roll my eyes this time because not only is she being ridiculous but, frankly, she’s startin’ to piss me off. I glance toward the counter wondering where the fuck Pip is and why she ain’t here to take our order and interrupt Bailey’s bullshit.
“You like her.”
I snap my head to Bailey, glaring at her. “Can you keep your fuckin’ voice down?”
Sitting back all smug, Bailey presses her lips together, biting them between her teeth to stifle her shit-eating grin. I cast a quick glance across the diner, relieved to see that Clara is well out of ear shot, and busy talking with the kids over their meals.
Fuck, seems like she gets prettier every time I see her.
Tonight, she’s dressed in a sundress with daisies on it that shows off her smooth, sun-kissed shoulders and brings out the gold flecks in her eyes.
Her honey-blonde hair is clipped up, a few tendrils falling loose down her neck, a delicate sandal dangles from her foot as it sways to the tune of the song playing from the jukebox.
It seems she’s even more beautiful when she’s unaware. Effortless. Breathtaking.
Bailey clears her throat, and I close my eyes on a hard sigh, realizing she’s caught me staring. Fuckin’ ogling. When I meet her knowing gaze, I’m met with an I told you so grin, and I swear to God, this woman.
“It ain’t like that,” I start, shifting in my seat again. “I’m just… I don’t know… protective of her. Of the kids. I see myself in them. It’s… relatable, y’know?”
Bailey smiles around her straw as she sips her iced water, watching me.
I shake my head, shrugging a shoulder. “I don’t know. I ain’t ever felt this way about anyone before. I mean, yeah, she’s beautiful…” I glance at Clara once again, my gaze raking over her slowly from head to toe. “She’s kind, and gentle, and caring, but it’s not—”
“Cole Dawson, will shut up and listen to yourself!”
I startle, turning back to see Bailey gaping at me incredulously.
She scoffs, lowering her voice. “You ain’t ever felt this way about no one before,” she says with an eyeroll, repeating my words.
“She’s beautiful, and kind, and gentle—” Bailey blows a raspberry, cocking her head to the side.
“Boy, you like her. In fact, I’m pretty damn sure that’s the universal definition of likin’ someone.
You’re just too pig-headed and stupid to realize it. ”
I blink. Did she just call me stupid? Before I can retort like a twelve-year-old, we’re interrupted by Pip. “What’ll it be, kids?”
“Really?” I glance up at Pip. “Now you decide to show?”
She looks between me and Bailey, clearly confused.
“Couldn’t have come over sometime in the last, I don’t know, five minutes?” I mutter, shaking my head to myself.
“Oh, don’t worry ’bout him, Pip,” Bailey says with a smart-ass grin. “He’s in love…”
“Love? Cole Dawson?” Pip practically hollers, drawing the attention of so many eyes in the diner, and I can’t bear to see if Clara’s one of them.
I throw my head back with a groan and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Bailey Bay, I swear to god.”
I’ve driven past my own damn house three times already and I have no idea why.
After dinner, I followed Bailey home and waited in my truck like I always do, watching until she waved me goodbye from the front door before she walked inside.
Then, I headed back to the ranch. But instead of turning left on Country Road to head out toward Rattlesnake, I turned right and I continued to my place, driving right by and nearly veering off the side of the damn road to try see through the motherfuckin’ redbuds to determine whether the porch light was still on.
It is. I managed to get a glimpse the second time, but now as I continue driving by for a third time, I can’t help but wonder what the fuck I’m even doing.
Clara and the kids left the diner after they finished their meal.
They didn’t even stick around to have their dessert.
Pip bagged it up for them and they took it to go without much more than a casual wave and a tight-lipped smile in my direction.
I wanted to run after them—her—I wanted to make sure she was okay, but I didn’t because I’m an idiot.
At least that’s what Bailey told me at least twenty-four times tonight.
I know what Clara thinks. She thinks Bailey’s my date, maybe even more.
And I’m sure it all has to do with the way I left Meow’s Saturday night so damn fast. And probably how I didn’t reply to her until the next morning because the drive south is patchy at best. Hell, I didn’t even see her text messages until we got into Midland.
And I didn’t get back to Summer until yesterday because the Butcher is a fuckin’ liar.
And, since I couldn’t very well tell Clara that I had to escort a member of the mob down to the Mexican border to hand deliver god knows what to a goddamn cartel, I chose to tell her nothing.
Not even a lie. Because again, I’m an idiot.
And I’m sure my silence, and my sudden reappearance with Bailey by my side has only perpetuated whatever it is she’s been thinking these last few days.
Fuck’s sake. Bailey’s right. I am an idiot.
Before I know what I’m doing or why, I pull into the drive and follow it through the overgrown bushes, approaching the house. It’s late. I’m sure the kids are in bed. But I can tell by the flicker of blue light flashing through the crack in the curtain that the TV is on. Someone’s awake.
Shutting off the engine, I sit for a moment.
Like a fucking creeper. Staring at the front door, waiting for what, I don’t know.
When I see the curtain move aside, a silhouette peering out, I heave a resigned sigh and hop out of my truck right as the front door to the house opens and Clara steps out onto the porch.
“Hey,” she says tentatively, keeping her voice down and folding her arms across her chest. “Is everything okay?”
And I try so hard to keep my eyes up, trying not to allow my gaze to roam like it wants, but she’s wearing one of them tank tops again, the white one with the skinny straps, and… no bra. And those tiny-ass sleep shorts. Goddamn.
Scrubbing a hand down my face, I force my eyes to the dirt, approaching the porch silently until I remember she just asked me a question.
Snapping my head back up, I nod. “Uh, yeah. Sorry, I just—” When I realize I don’t have an explanation as to why the fuck I’m here at ten p.m. I huff a breath, glancing sideways to where the barn looms in the shadows. “I just came to get something… um, out of the barn,” I lie. “Is… is that okay?”
Clara eyes me for a long beat, her brows knitting together like she doesn’t fully believe me. But then she lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “Yeah, of course.”
“Thanks,” I mutter, turning on my boots and walking with my head down toward the barn like a man on a mission. Fuckin’ pussy.
The light in the barn flickers as I pull the string, illuminating the space in a soft-yellow glow. And, for a moment, I just stand here, staring at my truck that I can’t get to start, at all the shit surrounding it collecting cobwebs and dust.
Bailey’s right. I do like Clara. More than I’ve ever liked anyone.
Which, honestly isn’t saying a whole lot since I ain’t ever liked no one before.
Unless it was in the heat of the moment and I was getting my dick sucked.
But I like Clara. More than just… friends, or whatever it is we’re doing.
And I know I shouldn’t because it’s probably the last thing she needs. But I can’t help the way I feel.
Chrissake. I scrub a hand over my face again, groaning under my breath.
“Find what you need?”
Startling, I spin around so quick I almost lose my balance, eyeing Clara as she stands in the open doorway watching me curiously.
“Uh…” I look around, searching for something I can grab that makes sense, but I’m at a loss so instead, I turn back to her and throw my hands up in the air, defeated. “I lied.”
Clara’s forehead puckers with obvious confusion.
“I didn’t come here to get somethin’,” I admit on a heaving exhale. Looking up at the pitched ceiling, I consider myself a moment before meeting her eyes again. “I-I came here to… to see you.”
Clara blinks, cocking her head to the side. “Okay… what’s up?”
I flick my tongue over my suddenly dry bottom lip, searching for the words but when they don’t come to me, I wind up just staring at her, like a goddamn fool.
Clearing my throat, I remove my hat and rake my fingers through my hair, stalling.
But the longer the silence stretches between us, the more panic starts to curl in my guts.
“Cole?” Clara quirks a brow. “Please tell me, because I’m really starting to panic.” Her tits heave with a few quick breaths. Eyes up, dammit. “Do you… Do want us out of the house?”
I gape at her. “What? No.” My fuckin’ chest hurts knowing that she was even thinking that.
She seems relieved, her shoulders sagging a touch.
If I had a plan, I can sure as shit say this ain’t going according to it at all. Puffing air from my cheeks, I rub at the back of my neck. “Bailey’s… not my girlfriend.”
I see a thick swallow work its way down Clara’s throat but she says nothing, gives nothing away.
“Bailey’s one of my oldest friends. We used to live next door to each other when we were kids,” I continue for some reason. “Her fiancé was… um, killed a few months ago. In the war…”
Clara’s eyes go wide.
I nod solemnly. “He was a marine. Well, he worked with me at Rattlesnake but then he enlisted and…” I trail off.
“Oh my god,” she whispers, placing a hand against her chest. “I—I’m sorry.”
I shrug. “I’ve been tryin’ to spend as much time with her as I can. It really messed her up for a while. Hell, some days are still pretty bad for her.”
Clara frowns. “I can only imagine. Poor Bailey.”
I nod again. “Yeah. We have dinner every Wednesday night together. At Pip’s.”
Clara nods this time, understanding dawning on her.
“That’s why we were there,” I confirm. “It wasn’t, like, a… date, or whatever.”
“Okay.” Clara offers a small smile that’s tinged with awkwardness, like she’s wondering why I’m telling her this. And, I mean, that’s a real good question because I ain’t got the faintest fuckin’ idea.
“And Saturday night,” I continue, “when I had to leave?”
Her eyes slide to mine.
“There was a… p-problem at the ranch.” I keep rubbing at the pinch of guilt that pricks the back of my neck, swallowing hard.
“I ended up havin’ to drive down to… south.
” I shrug, not wanting to tell her any more simply because I don’t want her in any way implicated in Austin’s bullshit.
“I didn’t get back here ’til yesterday.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Her blue eyes rove over me from head to toe, a contemplative look in them when they meet mine. “You don’t owe me an explanation, Cole.”
I shrug again, shoving my hands into my pockets and, with another thick swallow, I say, “I wanna be honest with you. All I wanted was to come back here and… and be with you on Saturday night. Because I… I think I—” I snap my mouth shut before another half-lie slips out.
Clearing my sandpaper throat, I lift my chin a little higher, meeting her eyes. “Because I like you, Clara.”