meant every word. “Sure, he’s energetic, and that paint-licking thing is kinda quirky, but he’s polite, and he plays well with others, and he’s kind and considerate. He spent all day today mindful that he might be trampling a thousand ants to death with his feet because Crikey was so obviously upset at the idea.”
Jane glanced up with a frown. “What?”
He waved her question away. “Long story. The point is, I know I have zero child-rearing experience, but I do know what it’s like to be raised by a single working mother, and all I ever needed was a safe place to call home and to know that she loved me. And that’s all Finn really needs, too. The rest is just…” He shrugged. “Bullshit.”
She glanced up again as her fingers continued to destroy the label. “You didn’t feel like you missed out, not having your father around a lot of the time?”
Oh hell, no. Of that, Cole was certain. “My old man wasn’t like Tad. He wasn’t just irresponsible and self-centered; he was a bully and a drunk, and life was much better without him.”
“Oh god.” She put her hand over her mouth. “I’m so sorry… I didn’t realize.”
“It’s okay.” What his old man had or hadn’t done two decades down the track was neither here nor there. “I had a great uncle and my high school rugby coach and an amazing mentor when I first went pro who were all good role models. They filled in the gaps. And Finn will find gap fillers, too. There are plenty of good men out there, Jane.”
“Yeah.” Her hand slid from her mouth to her lap, and she smiled at him. “Thanks.”
That genuinely grateful smile was more potent than any coy, flirtatious little moue she could have sent him. Hell, it was more potent than a titty flash, because it not only made his libido go boinnnng, but it made his heart go kerthump. Made his chest all warm and his throat all tingly and his breath hot and prickly in his lungs.
Cole finished off his beer in a few long swallows, the liquid cool on his suddenly parched throat, his gaze returning to the dark misty corners of the backyard. The view out there was far less tempting than the one on the love seat. Jane all prickly and threatening him with needle-nose pliers, then kissing the hell out of him was a mix of hot and cold he’d gotten used to, but this Jane? Vulnerable and uncertain Jane?
She called to him in an entirely different way.
He kept his eyes trained on the back wall as she fiddled with her label, the silence growing between them. Not uncomfortably. But he was aware of it and aware of her like an invisible force field buzzing against his skin.
“Well…I think I better head in.”
Her husky announcement sounded more like a question than a statement of intent, but she held out her hand for his empty bottle, and Cole passed it over. Their hands brushed, and a flare, like a sparkler igniting, burst to life. Heat pulsed in electrical waves up his arm. Her fingers lingered, her gaze locking on their point of contact.
“Okay,” Cole said, wholly unable to move or think or, hell, breathe as he, too, stared at where their fingers met.
“Okay,” she repeated after a beat or two, not withdrawing her hand, not looking away. Her voice was a low, sonorous rasp now, unfurling like smoke inside Cole’s veins, whispering seductively about long rainy nights and twisted sheets.
“Or you could…” Cole swallowed against the parched thickness in his throat, his heart beating like a drum through his ears. “Stay a little longer.”
She nodded. “I could.”
Then she raised her gaze and looked at him, and Cole’s throat just about closed off, his heartbeat going off like a bomb in his ears now. She seemed as helpless in the face of this—whatever the hell this was—as he was.
The hyperactive boy in him wanted to run at her like a bull at a gate, but the adult male in him urged caution. He sensed, as she searched his eyes for who knew what, that decisions were in the balance right now. That options were being weighed, that consequences were being assessed, pros and cons considered.
And whatever way he looked at it, he was a con.
Cole could handle that, though. She wasn’t exactly a pro in his life, either. What he couldn’t handle was being a regret. So now wasn’t the time for rushing