Chapter 16
sixteen
ISABELLE
All afternoon, I’d had a pit of excitement simmering in my belly. A feeling that something was going to happen. I found myself looking around constantly… waiting.
Waiting for Cole to come back.
As the afternoon turned into evening, I’d started to think that maybe he wouldn’t bother. What if he’d found a better party at The Clutch? What if he’d found a better woman to hang out with there?
Sure, after the other night, there hadn’t been any promises that what had happened would ever be repeated, but it hadn’t stopped me from longing for it.
That experience had been the wildest, most free I’d ever felt. But clearly, after the prolonged silence… he didn’t feel it back. Considering the whole exposé and digging for information thing, it was probably for the best. I’d clearly lost my mind even hoping to see him more.
So, I had a few beers, but then stopped when they made me feel tired. I talked to my friends, and Marcus’ teammates, and generally pretended to be having fun.
My dad had texted asking if I’d called Grant yet, and when the dinner was going to be. That had tanked my mood completely for a good hour.
I’d pretty much given up watching the door when Cole walked in.
My tiredness evaporated at the sight of him, tall, broad, leather clad and painfully hot.
Wherever he went, he drew eyes. Luckily, barely any of the women present were single, and those who were would never dare approach such an intimidating-looking man.
Nope. I was the only crazy one here.
It had crossed my mind to go and snoop through his things for information on the gunrunning… but I’d never had a moment alone, and honestly, since the other night, it had started to feel wrong. I’d crossed a line and now was suffering from a conflict of interest. Could I even be impartial now?
Damn it. I was so screwed.
The party went on, and I tried my best not to watch him.
“So, it’s not getting any better?” Tyler asked me. Tyler was one of the Hellions, and a pretty nice guy.
I shrugged. “It’s the same. Emmit is just… he doesn’t like me, and there’s nothing I can do about that.”
“Have you asked him why?” Tyler wondered.
“I know why. He doesn’t like my last name and thinks I bought my way onto the paper. Joke’s on him because my dad would rather set money on fire than support my dreams.”
Tyler blinked at me. “Wow, that’s a lot.”
“Sorry. Let’s just say I know why he doesn’t like me, but there’s nothing I can do to change it.”
Tyler thought for a moment. “I’m sure he can’t just up front say that’s the reason he isn’t giving you opportunities, though, right? Why don’t you just put him in the hot seat and ask him about it in front of other people, or the faculty advisor?”
I laughed and nearly choked on my beer. “That’s such a guy approach. I can’t just ask him why he doesn’t like me in front of other people… I’d die on the spot.”
Tyler chuckled and sipped his beer. “Maybe it’d solve your problem.”
“Yeah, but I’d be dead after, so not helpful.”
I set down the bottle of beer I’d been drinking.
Cole’s cabin was warm as hell with the fire burning.
It was a beautiful place. I couldn’t stop admiring it.
It was nothing like I’d expected him to live in, and that made me feel crappy.
Like I’d judged him solely based on the MC, his tattoos, and The Clutch.
I left Tyler and went searching for the bathroom.
The downstairs one was busy.
“Go up,” Arianna said and nodded to the stairs. “There’s one first door on the left.”
She waited expectantly and I jerked into motion. I felt weird going upstairs. I didn’t want Cole to think I was snooping around. He already called me Goldilocks, for goodness’ sake.
I reached the top of the stairs and found the bathroom easily enough.
Minutes later, I dried my hands and stepped back out into the hallway.
That was when I noticed a room with the light on at the end.
Was it his bedroom? Suddenly, curiosity burned through me, and I couldn’t stop myself from edging that way.
I looked back at the stairs, making sure no one was coming up here.
This was my problem. I was too damn curious for my own good, and I always had been.
It was part of what had made me a good reporter in high school.
I’d always been digging into things, trying to get under the surface and see what others didn’t.
That instinct hadn’t gone away, despite being assigned nothing but superficial fluff for the past few years.
I was desperate for something real. My professional life had become too much of a mirror of my family life… all sparkle and surface, no depth.
I reached the room at the end of the hallway and paused.
It was a huge room. A king-size bed sat in the middle of the polished wooden floor.
On the right was an enormous window, taking up nearly the entire wall.
Outside, the pine trees and faraway cliffs off the coast looked like a painting, the scene was so beautiful.
A desk sat in the corner with a laptop on it. The room had a couple closed doors, which I assumed led to a closet and a bathroom.
I drifted in, pulled by some unseeable force.
My own nosiness and the feeling of the room.
It was warm and smelled like Cole. It felt homey in a way I had very little experience with.
The floorboards were smooth beneath my socks as I padded across to the desk.
The laptop was closed, and before I could stop myself, I pushed the lid up.
A password-protected screen popped up. I had no idea what Cole’s password might be. I didn’t even know what was important to him. How would I ever be able to guess something like that?
I looked around at the other things on the desk.
A coaster, a couple of business cards for motorcycle supply shops.
I clearly sucked at investigating people.
Maybe Emmit had been right all along. The gossip column was about my level.
I had liked to think that I was smarter than that, tough and persistent.
It was an ideal I’d held about myself ever since I’d been old enough to read about the adventures of Lois Lane.
But reality never really turned out like your dreams…
and it seemed that the whole MC exposé was slipping through my fingers.
Honestly, I’d never really had a grip on it in the first place, but messing around with the president of the club was never going to end well.
I sighed heavily as I trailed my hand along the desk and turned around… then froze as soon as my eyes met his.
I was no longer alone.
Cole stood in the doorway, leaning against the doorjamb, arms folded across his broad chest, his dark blue eyes fixed on me. I ripped my hand from his desk, suddenly feeling like I’d been caught red-handed, despite not having been looking for anything this time.
“Don’t mind me, Goldilocks. I’d hate to interrupt your inspection. Did you need my laptop password? What else can I do to make my personal business easier to spy on, Isabelle?”
A lump stuck in my throat at his deep, mocking tone. I could make some excuse and turn tail and run away. He wouldn’t be able to stop me; the house was full of my friends, after all. I could call out and someone would come.
Or.
Or… I didn’t run away. The thought was electrifying. Curiosity and a thrilling sense of excitement filled my veins.
I swallowed that damn lump in my throat and brought my chin up, meeting Cole’s searching, dark look without hesitation.
“I was looking for the bathroom and got turned around,” I said steadily, and tossed my hair over my shoulder. “I see I was in the wrong room.”
I walked across the thick, plush area rug lining the floor and stopped when I reached the bedroom door. He didn’t move an inch to let me past.
“Were you?” he murmured, low as sin.
He dropped his eyes to my feet, and then up my jean-clad legs. A slow, leisurely inspection.
“I don’t think you’re in the wrong room at all. I think you’re right where you’re supposed to be, Isabelle.” He narrowed his eyes when he said my name a second time.
“I didn’t lie. Lots of people shorten Isabelle to Belle,” I said defensively.
Cole smirked. “Sure, they do, but you don’t usually, do you? Your little boyfriend downstairs calls you Isabelle.” He straightened up and sauntered closer. The room instantly felt smaller.
“My boyfriend?” I repeated. Who did he mean?
“Mm-hmm, the jock who was hanging on your every word.”
“Tyler?”
“Whoever. His name doesn’t matter… all that matters is that he stops disrespecting me in my own house.
” Cole shrugged off his heavy leather cut and tossed it onto a chair.
He had on a black T-shirt underneath, and it molded to every perfect muscle on his chest. I remembered it being an impressive sight, one I longed to see again.
I’d seen his dick, tasted his cum, but I hadn’t even gotten to touch his bare chest. Suddenly, there was nothing else I could think about.
“How is he disrespecting you? Did he pee in the sink or something?” I asked, stepping back as Cole continued forward.
He smirked, and the look made my damn knees weak. He was blisteringly intense when he stared or glared, or generally looked around at the world. He rarely smiled, I realized at that moment. Had I seen it before? I didn’t think I had. It made me sad, somehow.
“He monopolized your attention. The most interesting woman here… that’s fucking rude. Everyone knows, the host gets first pick of the guests. That’s just the rules.”
“First pick of the guests? You have rules in place for these situations… do you host parties here often?” I babbled, imagining Cole picking out a woman at each party to bring upstairs.
He shook his head slowly. “This is the first party, and you’re the first guest I’ve ever picked. What’s wrong, Isabelle? Are you disappointed… do you want to go back downstairs to Tyler? Let him take you for dinner and a movie? A milkshake before he walks you home and kisses you on the cheek?”