23. Cole
COLE
It’s been a little over a week since mine and Clara’s moment on the porch.
I was in Oklahoma City all weekend for an event, and not only did I come back five grand richer, but I also came back with my name on the schedule for the Ford Invitational next month in Fort Worth.
My agent told me that the head coach of the Texas Outlaws has his eyes on me, and as long as I ride as good as I have been, then I’m almost guaranteed a spot on the roster, come July when the team tour season starts.
My dream is so close I can just about sniff it.
Although we haven’t seen each other, Clara and I have been texting.
A lot. I’m not normally a big texter—I fuckin’ hate cell phones—but with Clara, I’ve been finding myself checking my phone every few minutes, like a teenage girl waiting for her crush to call.
I even switched my cell from silent for the first time ever, just so I don’t miss a notification.
Pathetic? Damn right. Can you blame me? Go on and try, I dare ya.
Now, as I turn into the driveway of my house, I have butterflies—goddamn butterflies—swarming in my gut at the thought of seeing her. Stick a fuckin’ fork in me because I think I might officially be done.
“Cole!”
I’m almost plowed down the second I hop out of my truck, Billie latching onto me like a spider monkey, big blue eyes twinkling as they peer up at me.
“Well, howdy there, Miss Billie.” I scoop Billie up off the ground, hitching her onto my side with one arm while I grab the box from the bed of my truck.
“What’s that?” Billie asks curiously, craning her neck to get a better look.
“This”—I hold up the box—“is a brand-new fuel injector for my old truck.” I flash her a wink. “Wanna help me replace it?”
She shakes her head, nose scrunching up. “I just did my nails!”
I can’t stop myself from laughing when she holds up her hands and wiggles her little fingers showing off the sparkly pink polish.
“Well, hell, they do look pretty.”
She offers me a satisfied grin.
“Oh, hey!”
I turn my head, my breath catching in the back of my throat at the sight of Clara standing in the open door.
My eyes rake over her slowly from head to toe, taking in the pretty little sundress she’s wearing, the way it dips low at the front showing off a hint of those perfect tits, the hem hitting her mid-thigh.
I’m forced to will my dick to behave, clearing my throat and averting my gaze to the dirt as I let Billie down to her feet.
“Just came to… work on the truck,” I say, meeting her eyes again. “If that’s okay?”
Clara nods, a small knowing smile ghosting her lips.
“Yo, Tommy?” I yell out.
Seconds later, the boy is practically bounding out of the house, eyes wide and full of fervor. “Hey Cole!”
I show him the fuel injector before nodding my head in the direction of the barn. “Wanna help me get the ol’ girl started?”
“Yeah!” His face splits into an eager grin.
“C’mon, buddy.”
Tommy races up ahead of me, and I follow him, glancing over my shoulder one last time and meeting Clara’s eyes again. I allow my gaze to trail back down her body. Purposely. And when I see the flash of pink coat her cheeks, I flash her a grin and a slow wink before turning back to follow Tommy.
Tommy and I have been in the barn for an hour or so working on the truck. The first attempt was a failure, but after a couple How-To YouTube videos and a lot of muttered cussing on my behalf, I think we might finally have success.
“Okay, that should do it.” I heave a grunt, pulling myself out from underneath the truck.
My bones crack as I make my way up to my feet, wiping my grease-covered hands on the back of my jeans.
But just when I go to get into the cab to try the engine, I glance down to find Tommy watching on with bated breath and I take a pause.
“You wanna do the honors?” I hold the keys out for him.
His eyes go wide. “Me?”
I nod, biting back a smirk.
“Are you… are you sure?” He quirks a brow. “I-I don’t know how.”
“Hop on up, my guy,” I tell him, the metal door letting out a low groaning creak as I pull it open. “I’ll show you.”
Tommy’s smile wavers with nerves and uncertainty as he climbs up into the driver’s seat, settling in and looking around at everything inside like he ain’t sure what’s what.
“Slide the key in here,” I tell him, pointing to the ignition.
But before he does as I say, he reaches back and loops the seatbelt across his small body, buckling himself in, and I can’t help but chuckle. “Oop, my bad. That’s a good job, bud. Safety first, always.”
Tommy’s hand trembles a touch as he slides the key into the ignition. “Now what?”
“Okay, now you’re gonna wanna press your foot down on the brake, here.” I show him which pedal is the brake, and he has to stretch a little as he does, nodding at me once his foot is in place.
“Now, turn the key.”
Tommy turns the key and when I hear the engine try to kick over, I hold my breath.
“Keep going?” Tommy checks.
I nod, listening to the engine as it struggles to ignite.
I lift my leg, sliding my foot in and giving it some gas.
Not too much to flood it, but just a tap.
Lo and behold, after a couple of seconds the fuckin’ thing kicks over, growling like a grumpy old woman before evening out to a nice, steady low rumble.
Tommy gasps, looking at me.
“We did it, buddy.” I grin, slowly lifting my hand and curling it into a fist, keeping far enough away so as not to frighten him. “Knuckles?”
He looks uncertain a moment, eyes flitting from me to my fist and back again, and that hurts my heart. But then, with a thick swallow, Tommy makes a small fist with his hand and ever so gently, he taps his knuckles against mine and an unexpected pride unfurls deep inside of me.
Seconds later, two excited girls appear in the open barn door, Clara holding Billie’s hand as they look in at us, backlit by the glow of the setting sun.
“It’s going?” Clara asks, her smile wide.
“We did it,” I shout over the sound of the engine, helping Tommy out of the driver’s seat. “Didn’t we, bud?”
“Yeah!” Tommy stands tall next me, his shoulders wide and chest a little puffed out full of pride.
Billie jumps up and down, clapping and cheering like our own personal pom-pom girl, and Clara looks from me to Tommy, her smile watery, eyes gleaming with a hint of tears.
I turn back to Tommy. “Wanna come with me while I take her for a quick spin?”
Tommy’s jaw falls open on a gasp. “Can I?”
I nod. “If it’s okay with your mama?”
He turns to Clara. “Please, Mom. Can I go with Cole?”
Clara’s eyes flare a moment, and I don’t miss that telltale flicker of fear and unease, but it’s gone almost as quickly as it showed, her smile returning when her eyes meet mine. “Of course you can.”
Before I can even tell him to hop in, Tommy’s back inside the cab, eagerly sliding across the bench seat and buckling himself up, bouncing up and down.
“You wanna come, Miss Billie?”
Billie glances up at her mama before shaking her head, her small hand clutching the skirt of Clara’s dress a little tighter. “No. I wanna stay with Mommy.”
I don’t miss the way her words tug at something in my chest, but I also fully understand and respect her decision. So, with a nod I hoist myself up into the driver’s side and give the girls a wave. “We’ll be back in a few.”
I proceed down the driveway, the truck jostling over the bumps. As I turn onto the country road, the truck picks up speed and the dusk breeze blowing in through the open windows whips against my face, warm and thick, bringing with it the hint of summer.
“This is so cool!” Tommy shouts.
I glance at him from the corner of my eye, his smile and excitement infectious and warming me through to my chest. As we coast along the road, I find myself feeling connected to this little guy in a way I never have before, almost like this ten-year-old kid might just be my next best friend.
“How’s school?” I ask after a few beats.
“It’s okay.” Tom nods. “I like school.”
I sniff a laugh. “I hated school when I was a kid.”
“Why?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Just never been a fan of people tryin’ to tell me what to do.” Glancing sideways I meet Tommy’s eyes. “Never been good at sittin’ still in a classroom. The only thing I was ever good at was playin’ football.”
“I’m the opposite.” Tom shrugs. “I hate sports, but I’m good at math.”
I grin, glancing at him again. “Hey, can I ask you somethin’?”
He nods, looking across the cab at me and meeting my eyes.
“That night in the barn,” I start, looking ahead at the road. “You were gonna tell me somethin’ about… Billie’s daddy.” I glance at him again quickly, noticing the way he stiffens at the mention. “Tommy, did he ever lay a hand on you?”
There’s a long silence and it causes my gut to clench, my mind reeling.
“No.”
I look at him and he meets my eyes again, and I can tell by the way he keeps his chin held high that he ain’t lyin’.
“I swear.” Shifting in his seat, he clears his throat.
“He used to… scare me. Like, pretend he was going to hit me, just to make me flinch. He used to think it was funny. But one time he was drunk, and he got so angry he… he punched the wall right by my head, put a hole through it.” Tommy looks down to his hands in his lap, his shoulders shrinking a touch.
I heave a sigh, scrubbing my chin as I stare out the windshield, relieved but still so fuckin angry I can barely even see straight. “If you ever need to talk, I’m always here,” I continue, flashing him another look and nodding. “We’re pals, you and me.”
Tentatively, I hold my hand out between us, knuckles up and with a tight smile, Tommy nods, touching my fist with his, and I release another breath, the tension in the air easing.
“There was somethin’ else I wanted to ask you,” I say after a silent pause, suddenly awkward and nervous as hell, my palms sweating as I grip the steering wheel like it’s all I’ve got anchoring me to earth.
“What is it?” Tommy’s words shake, like he’s suddenly nervous too.
Swallowing hard, I clear my throat. “Well, I was… I was gonna ask you for your p-permission.”
“My permission?” he repeats. “What for?”
I drag a hand over my face, huffing a hard exhale. “I wanted to… ask your mama out… on a… a date.” Shifting in my seat, I cast him a quick glance, meeting his eyes and thankfully he has the decency not to outright laugh at me because I already feel like a jackass.
“A date?” He arches a brow.
I nod. “I mean, only if it’s okay with you?”
Tom lifts his shoulders. “It’s okay with me.”
“Yeah?” I can’t even try to fight my grin.
He nods and I release the breath I’ve been holding, sagging in my seat as we continue following the country road.
“Cole?” Tom says after a few silent moments.
I turn. “Yeah, bud?”
His eyes flash with something when they meet mine, and it hits me in the center of my chest, knocking the wind right out of me.
“Please don’t hurt her,” he says, his small voice almost lost to the breeze blowing through the truck.
I glance back to the road before meeting his eyes again and, shaking my head, I look at him dead straight. “You have my word.”
By the time Tommy and I make it back to the house, the sun has set, but the front yard is alive with fairy lights I ain’t ever seen before, strung up between the house and the big old cottonwood, twinkling overhead, the rickety old picnic table dressed with a red and white checked cloth and laden with plates and silverware, and a bowl full of crisp fresh salad.
I look up in time to see Clara walk down from the porch steps carrying a big serving dish with what appears to be lasagna and immediately my stomach growls.
Whether it’s from the lasagna or the sight of her in that dress is yet to be determined, but my god I can’t recall a time I’ve ever been this damn hungry.
“Truck go okay?” she asks with a casual smile as she breezes past me to the table, placing the lasagna down in the center.
“Uh, yeah,” I say, rubbing at the pinch in the back of my neck.
“Is that garlic bread?” Tommy gasps.
I glance from Clara, to the table, suddenly awkward as hell. I point to my truck, with a muttered, “I’ll let you guys eat.”
“Join us,” Clara says with a genuine smile.
“Yeah, Cole, join us,” Tommy says with a knowing smirk, and I spear him with a deadpan look which only makes him snicker to himself.
“There’s plenty,” Clara assures me.
“I put extra cheese on top!” Billie beams proudly.
“Well, now, how can I say no to extra cheese?” I chuckle. “Just let me just go wash up.” I hold my still filthy hands in the air as proof.
“You go wash up too, Tom,” Clara says, looking pointed at Tommy.
I look down, side-eyeing Tommy. “I’ll race ya.” And before he can move to action, I get a head start, running for the house followed by the sound of his devilish chuckle closing in behind me.