CHAPTER NINETEEN Ginger
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Ginger
80 days to go
“ T hat’s the last of it,” I say happily as Cole grimaces. He’s carrying in my last tote of clothing as I carry in my “toolbox,” a secret home for my spicy novels and vibrator collection.
“Christ, woman, how many outfits do you need?” Cole grunts, dropping my clothes onto the bed.
“My apartment is on the other side of town. I don’t want to go back and forth more than I have to. Plus I want to dedicate all my time to Mabel.”
“Bullshit. It’s because you’re an overpacker and are afraid you might need that one pair of socks you didn’t bring.”
I bite my bottom lip and consider any socks I’ve forgotten, like the overpacker I actually am. He shapes the brim of his Yankees hat and his upper arms flex as he does so. I eye the ink dancing down his left arm. It’s a full sleeve decorated with vines, Mabel’s name, his father’s birth and death date, and various phrases.
It briefly occurs to me that I haven’t seen Cole shirtless in years, and find myself wondering what lies under those clothes. It was so dark when we were together in Vegas, I didn’t get the chance to sneak a good look.
I’m still mid-ogling Cole when Mabel bounds into the room and passes him her American Girl doll, dressed in a floral romper that matches her own.
“Can we start the garden tomorrow?” she asks me with the world’s most excited look on her face. I can’t help but smile at her enthusiasm.
“Absolutely!” I say, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear. The more she grows, the more she looks like Cole—or CeCe, really, but with dark hair.
“And you’re really going to have breakfast here with me every morning?” she asks, switching direction.
“That’s the plan. We’re going to have lots of fun this summer, Mabes.”
I look more closely at her and realize she’s covered in some form of dirt and sticky matter from what I assume is the backyard, judging by her muddy bare feet. Cole must be thinking the same thing.
“God, you need a bath, Half Pint. You been making mud pies again?”
She nods with a smile and holds up her dirty little hands.
“Yes, but I don’t want a bath. I want to play with Ginger.” She adds a little pout into the mix, the one she knows makes Cole turn to mush every damn time.
I laugh. “Maybe we can do two things at once. You know, when I was little, and I didn’t want a bath, sometimes my mom and dad let me have a pool bath. Maybe Daddy will let us do that.”
“What’s a pool bath?” Mabel’s eyes light up as if I’ve just told her I’m taking her to Disneyland.
“Well, you put your bathing suit on and scrub your hair really, really well, but with no soap and no shampoo. Almost like a pretend wash.”
I wink at her and Cole shoots me a disapproving look.
“I’m getting my bathing suit!” she says, running from the room before her dad can protest.
“It’s Thursday. Which means it’s hair wash night.” Cole says this with such a serious look on his face I can’t help but laugh.
“Oh no, what will we do?” I reply, feigning shock. “I know … wash it tomorrow? And, excuse me, but you have hair wash nights? What kind of prison are you running here, Sheriff?”
“The predictable kind. Sundays, Tuesdays and Thursdays are hair wash nights. Don’t fuck with the system, Vixen.”
I eye him, registering that he’s being serious. I swallow down my laughter.
“Fuck it,” he says. “My safe word. I’m choosing it. It’s authority . If I say it, you immediately wait to talk to me first.”
“ Authority ? Over a hair wash?” I can’t help it. It’s one of those moments where you know you shouldn’t laugh so it makes you want to laugh even more. The stern look Cole is wearing, his hands on his hips, an American Girl doll slung under his arm. It’s too much.
I flop down on my new bed, throwing my head back and letting the laughter take over. When I open my eyes, they’re damp, and Cole looks just as pissed as before. A real contrast to the happy doll he’s holding.
“Cole, please put down … put down the doll if you’re going to look that annoyed.”
“Ginger, you can’t just change everything we do … This was a bad—” He opens his mouth to say more but stops dead in his tracks because Mabel is back in the room, already in her suit and holding her life vest.
“Why aren’t you ready?” she asks, looking between me and Cole before turning and running toward the back door, her little feet thwapping against the hardwood floor as she goes.
“I have no control in my life, apart from between these four walls,” Cole says to me in a hushed tone.
“Let us have a little fun this summer, Cole,” I challenge, “It’s good for her.”
He grimaces.
“Fine,” he grunts in response. “We’ll delay hair wash night, and since this was your idea, suit up.”
“10–4 Sheriff,” I giggle.
He turns to leave before stopping himself.
He tosses me a devastating Cole smirk as he drops Mabel’s doll on my bed and I stand, backing up toward the wall as he approaches. He looks like he may yell … or kiss me … or both?
When he’s right in front of me, he looks down from his imposing full height and places his hands on my shoulders. I gulp, and just when I’m prepared to ask what he’s doing, he brings his face down to hover his lips over my ear. He’s so close I can smell his skin, and his minty breath.
“You good and warmed-up, Vixen?”
I look up at him. Hell, I am now.
“F-for what?” I stutter, which makes him grin.
“For me to beat what I assume will be some sort of a bikini bottom right off that sassy little ass at pool volleyball.” His hands drop from my shoulders, and he backs away.
I let out the breath I was holding.
“You’re burning daylight, woman,” I hear him call down the hallway as I stand there, stunned.
This man just comes near me and I buckle. How in the hell am I making it through this summer?