Chapter 35 Freya
FREYA
The relief that surged through me when I got Cole’s message was like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.
I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been avoiding him since that moment in his kitchen last week. As much as it might have excited me, it terrified me in equal measure.
I ran out of the apartment as soon as he got home that night. The moment I climbed into my new car, I regretted it. But I refused to go back up after that, so I pulled up my big-girl panties, pressed my finger to the start button, and let the beast of an engine growl to life.
It doesn’t matter that it’s by far the fastest car I’ve ever driven; I was being so cautious it took me longer than ever to get home.
I can’t lie, though. It’s an incredible car. The leather on the seats is unbelievably soft. The drive is so smooth, and the speakers are insane. I’m not going to admit to anyone just how loud I’ve had Taylor Swift booming out of those babies over the last week.
Every time I’ve driven it, I’ve gotten a little more confident.
Well, until I need to park it.
I have zero awareness of how big it is.
I went to Target the other day, and I was ashamed of how I left it. Although not ashamed enough to fix it. I figured the parking lot was almost empty and no one would notice or care, so I shuffled away as fast as I could with my head down.
Since Cole left for two road games, I’ve been counting down the hours until he’s back. I swear, the time has gone slower than I’ve ever known. I’m nervous as hell to see him again.
What if he’s forgotten all about that moment between us?
I’ve been here obsessing about it and secretly hoping that it’ll happen again, and he could have been halfway across the country, forgetting I even exist. Of course, I know that’s not the case. All men think with their stomachs, but none more than professional athletes, I’m learning.
I keep myself busy in the kitchen, preparing him a snack for when he gets back. My hands tremble a little as nerves rattle through me.
I’m glad we’re going out. I’m pretty sure that if I had to spend the afternoon here with him, I’d combust.
I lay the plates out for him, along with a fresh orange juice, before marching toward my bedroom. No. The guest room. This isn’t my bedroom, even if I have spent more time in it than at my parents’ recently.
It’s hot out today and walking in this heat is going to be hard. But I’m not backing down. Instead, I strip down to my underwear and slather myself in sunscreen before pulling on a pair of cycling shorts and a sports bra.
I stand in front of the full-length mirror in the bathroom, looking at the amount of skin I have on show. Unease rolls through me as I lift my hand to my stomach.
I’ve put on weight since returning home, which is a good thing.
I hadn’t realized how much I’d lost while following Rowan around the country.
We weren’t living on any kind of normal schedule.
We’d often be up all night and live on nothing but sugar and alcohol.
Many others had a mix of drugs to add to that as well, but I never went there.
I knew my limits and stood firm with them.
But the whole experience still took its toll on me.
It took months for me to get back into a normal kind of routine.
I guess living in Vegas and working nights prior didn’t help, either. I’d had no idea which way was up.
Unwilling to step out of this room with so much exposed skin, I find a loose-fitting tank and throw it over the top of my bra.
It doesn’t do all that much—its slashed neck and wide arm holes mean there is still plenty to see—but I feel better with that sliver of pale skin between my top and bottoms covered.
I pull my hair back into a sleek, high ponytail, and then apply some more sunscreen to my face.
With my sunglasses propped on my head, my sneakers on my feet, and my cell in the side pocket of my shorts, I make my way out.
As soon as I step into the kitchen, the sound of the front door opening hits my ears, and my stomach somersaults.
Any confidence I found in the guest room drops out of me, and it only gets worse as his footsteps thump against the wooden floor.
My heart races as I stand there frozen, waiting to see him.
The second he appears, all the air rushes from my lungs.
Did he get hotter?
He’s wearing a navy suit, or at least he was.
Now his collar is open, his tie discarded, his jacket thrown over his arm.
His hair is a mess, and he’s got more scruff on his jaw than usual.
It could almost be classed as a beard. The circles under his eyes are dark, showing the toll the last few days have taken on his body, but it doesn’t stop his eyes from twinkling as they land on me.
“Hey,” he rasps.
It’s the simplest of greetings, and yet the deepness of his voice hits me right between the thighs.
Get a grip, Freya.
He’s your boss.
But it doesn’t matter how many times I tell myself this. What was a little crush on my hot boss is growing. Honestly, it’s becoming a little bit of a problem. I just wish I knew what to do about it.
“Hi,” I squeak, sounding like a nervous schoolgirl. My cheeks burn as he moves closer.
“You’re all ready to go, huh?” he says as his eyes drop down my body.
“Yep. There are snacks over there,” I say, pointing to the counter.
But he doesn’t even glance over, his attention stays firmly on me.
“I guess I’d better go and get changed then,” he states before marching around me and disappearing down the hallway, leaving nothing but the mouthwatering scent of his cologne.
While he’s gone, I make myself busy cleaning the kitchen and double-checking I have everything ready for dinner later.
“How was your morning?” he asks when he returns, wearing a pair of athletic shorts and a tank.
Despite it only being spring, somehow his skin is already sun-kissed.
His tattoos dance as he moves, and my eyes feast on the artwork, trying to identify all the images that meld together into one big piece. I bet there are some stories there.
“Y-yeah, good. You?” God, could I sound any more awkward? If anyone were listening, they’d think I’d never spoken to this man before.
“Yeah, you know. We were up early for our call time, then I spent too many hours on a plane full of smelly guys.”
I laugh. “I’ll tell them that the next time I see them.”
“Go for it. I’m sure they’ll say the same. Killer decided to spend the flight giving me advice on a subject he has no idea about.”
“Oh yeah, what was that?”
Something flashes in his eyes, panic maybe.
“Just work stuff,” he says a little too quickly.
I narrow my eyes, trying to read between the lines.
Were they…were they talking about me?
My head spins with possibilities, but I quickly shut it down. There is no way he was talking to one of his closest friends about me.
I’m just his chef…
“So, did you want to go to the same place?” he asks as he picks up another slice of pepper.
“Yeah, if that’s okay with you. It’s my favorite place to walk.”
“Good with me. I actually bought you something,” he says before hopping off the stool and walking to the cupboard on the other side of the room.
I watch him go, desperate to know what it is.
He pulls a bag free and then marches over with it.
“I couldn’t decide, so I got a few,” he explains as he passes it over.
I peer inside.
“What on earth?” I laugh as I pull a pack of dog treats free.
“Thought you might attract a few more if you had treats in your pocket,” he says with a shrug, as if his thinking of me and going out of his way to stop at a pet store is a totally normal thing to do.
“I…I don’t know what to say,” I stutter, emotion crawling up my throat at his thoughtfulness.
“They’re just dog treats, Whirlwind.”
“I know,” I mumble. It’s not the treats. It’s the thought. It’s that he was thinking of me and how to make our walks in the park even more enjoyable.
It must have been annoying as hell for him to keep stopping so that I could pet every one that passed us last time. Most people would probably do anything to stop me from doing it again. But not Cole.
He watches me as I fight to keep my emotions in check, a baffled expression on his face.
“Are you okay?”
I force a smile on my lips. “Yeah. All good. Are you ready to head out?”
He picks up the last egg muffin and throws it into his mouth. “Yep, let’s go.”
We abandon the dishes where they are, and grab a couple of cold waters, and head out.
“So, are you driving or am I?” Cole asks once we’re in the elevator.
“All yours.”
“You don’t want to take me for a spin in your new wheels?”
“Maybe I haven’t been driving it,” I tease.
He glances over at me, a knowing look in his eyes.
“Okay, fine. I’ve been driving it, and it’s the nicest car I’ve ever driven. Happy?”
“Incredibly so,” he says quietly.
I duck my head, unwilling to let him see just how much I read into those two words.
“You’re looking good this afternoon, Whirlwind.”
My head snaps up at his compliment.
“Uh…so do you?” I don’t mean for it to come out like a question.
He smirks. “Thanks. Listen, we’ve got to attend a club opening next week. Would you like to come with me?”
“Oh, um…”
“Don’t feel bad if you want to say no. I get it if you want to stay under the radar.”
Yeah. I do. I really want to remain hidden.
But also…
“Like a date?” I blurt like an idiot.
Of course it’s not a date. It’s a work event.
“Uh…” His hand lifts, his fingers rubbing his jaw. “Yeah, kinda, I guess.”
Oh my god.
“But like I said, you can say no if you don’t want to—”
“Yes,” I cry, cutting him off.
“Yeah?” he asks, his brows pinching.
He didn’t think I’d agree.
Why?
He’s Cole freaking Hansley. Of course I’d want to go out with him.
“Yeah. It’ll be fun.”
“There will be photographers and—”
“It’s okay,” I say, sounding much more confident than I feel.
The thought of being photographed at an event sends a shot of fear through me. But knowing that I’ll have Cole standing by my side helps.
So what if my photo ends up on the internet? No one out there cares about me. The paparazzi who follow hockey players around are very different from those in the music industry. There’s a very high chance that no one will even know who I am, let alone connect me to my past.