Chapter 2
I changed my outfit six times.
Like a teenager getting ready for prom, except I was a grown woman who should have better emotional regulation.
“This is stupid. You look fine.” I tried to convince myself in the mirror.
My reflection looked unconvinced.
The black top showed too much cleavage, but the blue one washed me out. I settled on a deep red sweater that made my skin look less corpse-like and jeans that fit well enough to suggest I had a shape under there somewhere.
Minimal makeup. Hair down, because the fifteen minutes I’d spent with a curling iron had produced results that were “effortlessly beautiful” or “electrocuted,” and I was choosing to believe the former.
My phone buzzed.
Cole: Heading over now. See you in 20?
My stomach flipped.
Autumn: See you then.
I stared at my phone. Considered adding something flirty. Decided against it. Put the phone down. Picked it up again.
Autumn: I’m wearing red, so you can spot me.
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
Cole: I’d spot you anywhere.
Oh no. I was in trouble.
The restaurant was called Posana. Upscale but not stuffy, the place where you could wear jeans, but they had to be nice jeans.
I’d driven past it a hundred times, always meaning to try it, never quite getting around to it because eating alone at restaurants designed for couples felt like admitting defeat.
I parked two blocks away because my hands were shaking, and I needed the walk to calm down.
It didn’t work.
Cole waited outside, leaning against the brick wall in dark jeans and a navy button-down rolled to his elbows, holding a jacket in his hand. The sight of his forearms should not have affected me the way it did.
He saw me.
Smiled.
Pushed off the wall.
“Hey.”
“Hey yourself.”
We stood there too long, staring at each other like awkward humans who’d forgotten how dating worked.
My brain screamed at me to say something. Anything. Instead, I just stood there drowning in his eyes. He looked so handsome in his jeans and button-down shirt.
“You look amazing.” He smiled.
“Thanks. You clean up nice too.”
“This old thing? What can I say? I’m fancy.” He opened the door and held it for me. “After you.”
The restaurant glowed warm and intimate. Edison bulbs hung from exposed beams. The scent of garlic and fresh bread made my stomach growl loud enough that Cole heard it.
“You hungry too?” His eyes crinkled.
“I may have skipped lunch.”
“Why?”
“Nervous stomach.”
The truth slipped out before I could stop it. His expression softened.
“Same. I had half a protein bar and three cups of coffee. My hands are shaking.”
He held one up. A slight tremor ran through his fingers.
Something in my chest eased. He was nervous. This gorgeous, confident man was nervous about having dinner with me.
The hostess seated us at a corner table. Candles flickered between us. The menu was small, focused, the kind where everything sounded good and nothing had a price listed, which meant I was about to have anxiety about ordering.
“Get whatever you want. This is on me.”
“We can split…”
He set down his menu. “Autumn. I asked you out. I’m paying. That’s how this works.”
“How very traditional of you.”
“I open doors, I pay for dinner, and I don’t text other women when I’m on a date. I’m practically a Jane Austen character.”
“Mr. Darcy was kind of an ass.”
“Good thing I’m more of a Captain Wentworth guy.”
I blinked. “You’ve read Persuasion?”
“My mom’s favorite book. She made me read it when I was sixteen.” He grinned. “I fought her on it. Then I stayed up all night finishing it and cried at the letter scene.”
“The letter scene is devastating.”
“Right? ‘You pierce my soul’ might be the most romantic line ever written.”
We stared at each other across the candlelight. Something warm and dangerous unfurled in my stomach.
The server appeared to take our orders. Whether it was perfect timing or terrible timing, I couldn’t decide. I chose the seared scallops because they sounded safe. Cole ordered the steak medium-rare and asked for a bottle of wine.
When the server left, Cole leaned back, studying me.
“What?” I asked.
“Trying to figure you out.”
“Good luck with that. I’ve been trying for thirty-four years.”
“Tell me about the rescue.”
So I did. I told him about starting Happy Tails with Eli five years ago.
About the pit bull we’d saved from a fighting ring, who now slept in a tutu and refused to eat unless you sang to him.
About the three-legged cat who ruled the place with an iron paw.
And Garbage, who’d gained ten pounds and learned to trust humans again.
Cole listened. Truly listened, not just waiting for his turn to talk. He asked questions. Laughed at the right parts. Looked genuinely angry when I mentioned some of the abuse cases we’d taken on.
“That’s incredible. What you do. It matters.”
“It’s just…”
“Don’t.” His voice grew firm, the same tone as last night. “Don’t minimize it. You save lives. That’s not ‘just’ anything.”
Heat crawled up my neck. “Okay.”
The wine arrived. Cole poured, his hands steady now, and we toasted to nothing in particular and everything at once.
“Your turn. Tell me about the music.”
His entire face lit up from within.
“I’ve been writing songs since I was twelve.
My brother Decker and I used to sneak into our barn after our parents went to bed and just play.
He’d bang out rhythms on whatever he could find; I’d work out bass lines and write lyrics.
We’d stay up until three in the morning sometimes, just making stuff up. ”
“That sounds magical.”
“It was.” He swirled his wine. “My dad hated it. Thought music was a waste of time. Wanted me to take over the farm, marry a nice local girl, pop out some kids and continue the family legacy.”
“But you didn’t.”
“I tried. For a while. Did the whole college thing. Went to school for agriculture business, if you can believe that. Lasted two semesters before I dropped out and told my dad I was starting a band.”
“How’d he take it?”
Cole’s laugh held an edge. “About as well as you’d expect. We didn’t talk for a while. My mom was the bridge. She’d call, tell me he missed me, that he just needed time.”
“Do you talk now?”
“Yeah. It’s better. He came to a show last month, which was…” Cole paused. “That was good.”
I reached across the table and covered his hand with mine.
The touch sparked. Electric. Immediate.
Cole turned his palm up, laced our fingers together, and I forgot how to breathe.
“Tell me something true,” he said.
“What?”
“Something real. Something you don’t tell people on first dates.”
My brain short-circuited. “That’s a dangerous question.”
“I like danger.”
God help me.
“I don’t think I’m good at dating. Being vulnerable. Letting people in. My ex-husband left me for someone younger, prettier, thinner.” I paused. “We lost a baby. A miscarriage. He blamed me. Said I was too stressed, working too much at the rescue. Then he left.”
“His loss.” His eyes burned into mine. “Any man who had you and walked away is an idiot. And I know that you’re sitting here telling yourself you’re not good enough, not pretty enough, not young enough for me. But, Autumn? You’re wrong.”
“You don’t know me.”
“I know enough, but let me get to know more.” He leaned forward, closing the space between us. “Let me know you. Let me prove that the age thing doesn’t matter, that your past doesn’t scare me, that I see you and I like what I see.”
“This is crazy.”
“Maybe.” His thumb traced circles on my wrist, right over my pulse point.
Could he feel how fast my heart was racing?
“But I haven’t stopped thinking about you since last night.
The way you looked at me during that song.
Like you saw me. Not the performance, not the persona.
Me, and I want to know what else you see. ”
The food arrived before I could respond. Probably for the best, because my brain had vacated the premises and my body was staging a coup.
We ate. We talked about nothing and everything. His childhood in Kentucky. Mine in North Carolina. His favorite movies were action and musicals, which he claimed made perfect sense together. My secret obsession with reality TV cooking competitions.
“You watch Hell’s Kitchen?”
“Every season. Gordon Ramsay is my spirit animal.”
“The man calls people donuts when he’s mad.”
“It’s poetry.”
Cole laughed, full-bodied and real, and I felt it in my toes.
The restaurant buzzed around us, but we existed in our own bubble. Wine flowed. Conversation came easier. His knee bumped mine under the table and stayed there, a point of contact that felt both innocent and loaded with promise.
Dessert appeared. We agreed to share because we were both too full but also incapable of saying no to chocolate.
I took a bite. Moaned.
Cole’s fork froze halfway to his mouth.
“Sorry,” I apologized. “It’s just really good.”
His voice had gone rough. “Don’t apologize. Do it again.”
Heat flooded my entire body. “I’m not going to moan on command.”
“Pity.”
“You’re terrible.”
“You like it.”
I did. God help me, I did.
Outside, the night had grown cool. I wrapped my arms around myself.
Cole shrugged out of his jacket. Draped it over my shoulders before I could protest.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re shivering.” He tucked it around me, his hands lingering on my shoulders. “Better?”
I was wrapped in his scent, his warmth, his everything. “Yeah.”
We stood on the sidewalk, neither of us moving toward our cars.
“I should go,” I said.
“You should.”
“Early morning tomorrow. We got six new intakes this week.”
“That’s a lot.”
“Kitten season hit late this year.”
“Kitten season sounds adorable.”
“It’s chaos in a fur coat.”
He smiled. Stepped closer. “Autumn?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m going to kiss you now. If it’s okay.”
My heart stopped. “Okay.”
He cupped my face in both hands, his palms warm against my skin, and kissed me.
Soft at first. Gentle. A question.
I answered by fisting my hands in his shirt and pulling him closer.
The kiss deepened. His tongue traced my lower lip, and I opened for him, tasting wine, chocolate, and something that was just him. He made a noise low in his throat—hungry, desperate—and I felt it everywhere.
His hands slid into my hair. Mine mapped the planes of his back, the solid muscle, the way his body responded to my touch. He walked me backward until my back hit the brick wall and pressed against me, all heat and want and barely restrained need.
“Autumn,” he breathed against my mouth.
“Yeah?”
“If we don’t stop, I’m going to do something wildly inappropriate on a public street.”
“Like what?”
His hips rolled against mine, and I felt exactly what he meant. Hard. Ready.
Oh.
“That’s…” I couldn’t form words. “That’s quite a promise.”
“Not a promise.” He kissed along my jaw, down my neck, teeth grazing my pulse point. “A warning.”
I whimpered.
Cole pulled back, breathing hard, his eyes dark with desire. “I should let you go.”
“You should.”
Neither of us moved.
“Can I see you tomorrow?”
“You have a show.”
“Before. After. Late. I don’t care how late.”
“Cole.”
He pressed his forehead to mine. “Please. I know this is fast. I know you’re scared, but I can’t walk away from this. From you.”
The streetlight cast shadows across his face. His eyes searched mine, vulnerable and open and waiting for an answer I wasn’t sure I could give.
Because saying yes meant admitting this was real.
Saying yes meant risking everything.
Saying yes meant believing I deserved him, us, whatever this was becoming.
His thumb traced my cheekbone. Patient. Hopeful.
“Autumn?” he whispered.
And I had to decide.
Right now.