Chapter 11 #2
Her bag drops the moment our bodies touch, and I feel the tension in her composure vanish.
“What can I do?” I whisper against the softness of her hair, greedily allowing her warm marshmallow scent to consume me.
I’ve only ever seen Cove strong and reserved, but today, a wall is down, and I’m appreciative of it.
“Just hold me for a little while longer,” she says, nuzzling further into my hold. “It’s been a long week.” She initiated a hug—the simplest, yet most meaningful touch—and I’m surprised in the best way possible.
“I’ve got nowhere else to be.”
There’s an unfamiliar feeling of pride sitting in my chest knowing Cove chose me to rest with. The guy who, an hour ago, questioned if the speed and trajectory of my life would ever interest her. Those invalid doubts don’t just go away, but moments like these make them less…concerning.
I get to hold her, and I’m not ending this hug until she does.
My mom used to tell me that’s when you know the person receiving the hug really needed it. Let them pull away first. You making the first move only cuts their need for physical touch short. Someone to hold them for a moment’s time.
I never realized how important a hug truly is. Never realized how much I needed this very one just as much, either.
As her arms start to detach from my waist, I can sense the sluggishness in her frame. Taking it into my own hands, I flag down the closest bellhop and direct him to grab Cove’s bag while I lead her to the lobby bar. Locating two abandoned barstools, I guide her to sit as I flag down the bartender.
“What are we doing?” Cove giggles, reaching to touch the nape of my neck. I’m not sure she realizes very little thought went into the affection, but I did. She touched me like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“We’re getting a drink before I feed you. Did you know The Beverly is known for their dirty martinis?” Her nails nonchalantly drag along my shoulders, and I hold back a groan.
“Is that right? I happen to love dirty martinis,” she coos.
“I might remember that.” I order our drinks, and we sit in silence for a moment, the gravity of being here together feeling more significant than ever. The bartender hands me my scotch and Cove her martini, and I wait.
I wait to see if it lives up to the hype.
I’d hate to have to remove The Beverly from the mental list I started keeping.
Lately, I’ve forced myself to try dirty martinis everywhere I travel, just in case we visit together someday.
Not that I think I’m a suitable judge like her, but I try. Makes me feel closer to her.
Cove’s pink lips meet the rim of the glass, and the moment a soft hum resounds from beside me, I know we’re golden. “Oscar worthy?”
“Feels like an Olympic win.” She rises from her stool, waving down the bartender.
“What’s the secret? Wait, don’t tell me.
” She holds up her finger before reaching into her glass with the other and plopping an olive into her mouth.
“They’re homemade. Nothing about these babies says they came from a jar,” Cove says on a mouthful.
The bartender throws a rag over his shoulder before leaning toward her. “Bingo. House-made blue cheese stuffed right into the olive. The owners grow the olives themselves. Pretty spectacular, right?”
“Delicious. One of the best martinis I’ve ever tasted. Way to go, The Beverly.” Her excitement over something so small makes me feel honored to be here. And to think, if I never made the trip, I wouldn’t get to pocket this memory for eternity.
“Glad to hear it,” the bartender tells her. “Holler when you need another round.”
“Will do,” Cove says before turning toward me. “I still can’t believe you’re here,” she marvels.
“I’m here.”
“In Chicago,” she mumbles in awe, almost like she’s reminding herself.
I grin and sip my scotch. “The city of deep-dish pizza. Can you tell I’m fucking starving?”
Cove’s smile beams bright, and a gargled groan leaves her lips. “Now, you’re speaking my language, Cowboy. I can get down with deep-dish pizza. Just let me get this martini in my system, then we can get out of here.”
“Perfect. It’s a date.”
She doesn’t argue, and I take that as a positive sign.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Cove, it’s that she speaks her mind, and that’s a trait I can appreciate.
I’ve also noticed her discreetly carrying a book around wherever she goes.
I recognized the worn pages of a Jane Austen novel peeking out of her clutch that night at dinner, and I immediately wondered why.
Not why does she read, but why bring it to a supposed date?
“Still hesitant about me being here?” I ask.
“Yes.” No hesitation, and again, I admire that. “Doesn’t mean I don’t like it, though.”
“It is a bit impulsive of me, huh?” I know this is crazy. I’m acting crazy, but what if I miss out on the best thing to ever happen to me, all because I’m fearful of a little foolish fun?
Regret would be my middle name.
“At this point in my life, I’m grateful for the effort. It’s more than I’m used to, and I think that’s why I still don’t know how to handle your forwardness with me. It makes me…uneasy. In a good way,” Cove notes honestly.
Does she really have no one in her life who puts forth effort? I find that hard to believe. “I hate to hear that. Everyone deserves someone to show up for them a time or two. Hopefully more, if you’re lucky.”
She shakes her head. “My life has been, let’s just say, the farthest thing from easy. My mom, Betsy, and Kimber are all I’ve got. My horrid sperm donor was never around.”
“Sperm donor,” I choke, attempting not to laugh at the shocking use of the name. “I apologize, I’m not making fun. That just threw me off.”
She laughs. “Well, it fits him perfectly. He’s not my father, never was. Seems to be the only name suitable.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Cove. It’s his loss.”
How fortunate am I to have a father and mother who both loved me well? Despite now loving them in passing, they were here. Present up until their deaths. Cove can’t say the same, and I fucking hate that for her.
“I’m better off.” She smiles. “His absence has only shown me how strong I am without him, ya know? And my mom…God, she’s the most resilient and beautiful woman I’ve ever met. We’re lucky. That’s more than most people can say, and I recognize that.”
That’s quite a mature outlook to have.
“I think if you live your entire life with that mindset, nothing can stop you from having the life you want. I may be an old fucker, but I’ve learned a thing or two.” I smirk.
“Almost fifty, huh? That’s pushing elderly. Please don’t tell me you’ve got Depends on under these old Wranglers.” She pinches the fabric of my jeans, causing a stirring sensation to rush through me.
Goddamn it. I want her touch everywhere.
I pop the side of her tush playfully. “I may be old, but I’m not dead. Fuck around and find out.” I lean into her further.
“Maybe I will.” Her sexy smile lifts slowly.
“That a promise, my love?” At this point, it’s just the two of us amidst the hustle and bustle of the busy hotel lobby. Customers have headed off to dinner, exactly where we’re headed, but not yet. Not when I have Cove’s full attention for the first time.
“I don’t make promises to men,” she claims confidently before softening again. “But I know that I want you, Stetson. I’ve given up on questioning how or why. I just don’t know what I can give you right now. Things just got a bit more…complicated than I thought.”
The vague reservation in her voice has me oddly worried. I worry about the people I care about. It’s something I can’t escape. It can be extreme at times, but I can confidently say, everyone I love has been protected because of it.
However, the way Cove mentions this complication makes it seem recent.
And I can’t fight the concerns I now have for her.
“Are you okay? Safe?” I ask, knowing I don’t have much of a right, but I’m gonna do it anyway. I’d hate myself if she weren’t and I never asked.
“I’m safe. Of course.” She nods. “I just…there are some things I need to do soon, and I’m not sure what that will look like for my schedule for a while. I can’t really say too much right now.”
“I hear you…” I draw out, not wanting to push her. “You just let me know if there’s anything I can do to help. I mean that. And as far as us…let’s just see what happens, okay? No pressure. Like I said, you have my number, and I have yours. We’ll see each other when we can.”
Cove nods. “I’d like that a lot.”
Something is off, and although she won’t tell me what, the side of me that wants to take care of her is determined to find out. To make sure she’s okay. I don’t know how to protect halfway. Not that she needs my protection, but fuck if she thinks I won’t shower her in it anyway.
It’s the communication part I have to work twice as hard at.
“I have something for you,” I tell her, reaching into my back pocket. The moment I secure the folded notebook paper and sparkle pen, her effortless giggle breaks free.
“Didn’t exactly peg you for a sparkles guy, but it’s a nice touch. Really goes with the whole cowboy aesthetic.”
“Smart-ass.” I pinch her thigh through the pleat of her flight skirt. “The pen is a gift from my niece.”
“And you have it right now, why?” She smiles.
“Because Stella is my main girl. And Uncle Stetson is her favorite person ever. Gotta keep a piece of my little sass queen with me wherever I go. That’s why.”
The brightest beam I’ve ever witnessed sprouts from this enigma of a woman, and I want to fall at her feet and ask her to do it again. “Are you a big softie for the feminine kind, Stetson Cole?”
“Oh, you better believe it. I’m the softest of them all. No woman of mine will ever not feel my love for them. Stella gets what Stella wants.”
Her laugh grows fuller. Louder. More vibrant. I want to bottle it up and save it for a day when the light dims. “Gotta spend all those millions somehow, I suppose.”
“Someone’s gotta do it.”