Chapter 26
JULES
As I walked to O’Malley’s, the gazebo in the center of Cedar Falls’ main town square called to me.
It was typically filled with kids dancing, couples sitting on benches talking, but right now it was empty.
Walking toward it, I was reminded of the piazza where we ate breakfast every morning in Monterosso.
This certainly wasn’t Italy, but the sentiment was very much the same. A gathering place for families and friends, surrounded by local businesses, all cooperating in a way that could only be found in a place like this.
I sat, the pub I was heading to in my line of sight, just half a block away. Every logical thought in my mind pointed in the opposite direction of that pub.
The number of times I thought about our trip. The kiss. The stairwell. Catching myself touching my lips, still being able to feel his against mine. Cole’s admission on the boat about his dating life. He all but said to my face, Come closer, and you will get hurt.
In my experience, he was right. At this point in my life, I needed a man who was emotionally available.
I’d already Venmo’d Parker back for my share of the trip costs, the one practical thing I’d managed to do since we returned.
Staying in touch with Rocco, I’d realized, was a way to distract myself with trips to the city and keep a line of communication open with someone who wasn’t afraid to share what he felt.
But if I compared that—or any past relationship, really—to the sparks that flew between Cole and me, the butterflies in my stomach when I thought of him, there was no comparison.
Yet another reason not to stand up and go in there.
Except, I believed what I had said to him about only having one chance at this big adventure we called life.
A safe option would be turning back and going home.
The reckless one would likely lead to heartbreak, but I stood up anyway and made my way to the front door.
Pausing long enough to get in the way of two patrons behind me, I only entered when they looked at me strangely and opened the door for me to walk through.
The soft, melodic tunes of an expert guitar player filled O’Malley’s. There was chatter, laughter, and the general sense of “thank God it’s Friday.”
I couldn’t see them from here, but knew exactly where the guys would be.
Sure enough, as I made my way through the tables and crowd, the backs of three men appeared around the corner of the bar.
Mason, all the way to the left, angled outward, his training always giving him a view of the whole place.
Parker next to him, as usual. And Delaney was there too, beside him in the corner.
To her right? A very familiar shape and an empty seat beside him. With every step, my heart threatened to explode from my chest. Unlike the other guys, he didn’t pair his jeans with a T-shirt, but instead with a button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up. Those damn arms were probably on full display.
Attempting to sound lighthearted, I approached with a “Hey, guys.”
They all turned. Delaney jumped up, her red hair bouncing, and gave me a hug as if we hadn’t seen each other in weeks.
Behind the bar, Mae was at the other end, serving a customer. But one thing captured my attention most and held it. Not just Cole—but Cole without glasses. Something I’d never seen in public before, except on the boat and while he was swimming.
He patted the seat next to him. “Saved you a seat.”
“Thanks,” I said, breathing in the intoxicating scent of Cole Ford.
“What can I get you to drink?” he asked.
Mae popped up behind the bar. “Was just going to ask the same thing.”
“I don’t suppose you carry Prosecco? I’ve recently developed a taste for it.”
“If you’d asked me a few months ago, I would’ve said no. But this one”—he gestured to Mae—“is determined to turn O’Malley’s into a champagne and fine dessert bar.”
“I heard that,” she yelled back. “Not true.”
They were both smiling. I knew they were just joking around. Besides, Mae’s father had owned O’Malley’s his whole life, and she’d been clear that changing small details—not the vibe—was her and Beck’s main goal.
“One Prosecco coming up.”
“What else have you developed a taste for since Italy?”
Yep. Full-on forearms. Prepping the whiskey glass with hands I distinctly remembered pinning me above my head. With that opening, this night was either going to be a lot of fun or my downfall.
Most likely both.
“The colors of turquoise and blue only steps away,” I said. “Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to sum that one up here in Cedar Falls yet.”
“Hey, Jules,” Mason called from the end of the bar. “I was specifically ordered by Pia to ask about Italy.”
I avoided glancing at Cole. “Definitely not what we were expecting, but we had a fantastic time. I’m sure these guys”—I gestured to Parker and Delaney—“filled you in. How’s mini-Mason?”
“Adorable. But still fighting a regular sleep pattern. I’m one and done,” he said, raising his glass. “Cheers.”
“Cheers,” I said. But as Cole raised his glass, I clinked it and added softly, “Chin-chin.”
My reward was a soft smile. “How are things back here?”
“You already know my book is giving me some trouble. Besides that, I joined the gym. Have to mitigate my taste for pizza and sweets somehow. And although I say I’m going to walk more, it never seems to get done. But nothing much else to report.”
His perusal of me had my core clenching.
“First of all, you don’t need to do anything. Secondly, if it makes you feel better, the gym sounds like a great idea.”
Diving back into the deep end, I said, “So what about you? Have you developed a taste for anything since Italy?”
He held my gaze. “Yes. Very much so.”
That was it?
I waited.
“You going to elaborate?”
His mouth twitched in amusement. “Do you want me to elaborate?”
Yes. No. Maybe.
“I did ask.”
Again, silence. The kind that would’ve pissed me off not long ago. The silence I’d mistaken for arrogance. It was just him battling demons—ones that were currently winning.
He took a sip of whiskey. A perfectly refined, Ivy League, college professor sip.
Then he set the glass down as the song changed and the singer strummed a new tune.
Our eyes met. Cole leaned forward, close enough that I could almost—but not quite—feel his breath.
“I’ve developed a taste for you, monella.”
This called for calm, steady breathing, not squeaking out the first thing that came into my brain like usual.
“I see.”
Restrained Jules wasn’t much of a talker.
He smiled. “Do you?”
I took a sip of my Prosecco, mimicking him exactly. Cole tossed his head back and laughed, eliciting looks from the others. Beck, in the process of pouring a draft, nearly overfilled it as he glanced over.
In my best impression, I said, “I think so. I’m glad you came in this weekend.”
“That’s good,” he said. “Because I came to see you.”