before she shrugs, “—well, that didn’t happen.” She lifts her hands which are gripping approximately five hundred shopping bags. “But I am able to thank you this way. Keelie and I shopped ‘til we dropped. Noah’s credit card got quite the workout.”
Cole motions to the older, but no less beautiful one, who looks like she’s been held hostage in an American mall by the sheer number of her own parcels. “Baby, this is Keelie Hollingsworth. I work with her husband. And the little one, who shot through here, is their daughter Saylor. We’re trying to get her and Abbott together—they’ll be in the same class together in the fall.”
I look over my shoulder and see the girls in Cole’s family room. Specifically, Abbott doing all she can to get away from this Saylor child who isn’t respecting her personal space. I can’t count fast enough, but I’m pretty sure Abbott is only getting in three words to every ninety of Saylor’s. The poor girl doesn’t know what hit her.
“Saylor is our…” I look back to the lovely Keelie who’s wearing a wince on her fair face as she apologizes for her daughter, “extrovert.”
“Abbott needs to break out of her shell.” Cole is quick to forgive the pint-sized tornado a little too quickly for my taste. If Abbott doesn’t want this child in her face, she should bloody-well speak up about it. “She’ll be fine.”
“Where can we unpack these?” Gracie changes the subject, for which I’m grateful. “I have to admit, we went crazy—and before you insist on paying him back, Cole, you can stop right there. Noah said this was on him. It’s the least we can do for Isabella. I know what it’s like to all of a sudden be without everything. Trust me, you’re set.” She looks back at me. “And you need to get off your feet. I’m a nurse—I insist.”
Keelie and Gracie parade to the sofa as poor Abbott is being pulled out the back door by Saylor, who’s blathering on about a donkey, of all things.
I turn and find Cole gazing down at me. “She’s right, you need to sit. I’ll bring you a bowl of soup.”
Bags rustle and tissue paper crinkles as Keelie announces, “I hope you like everything. Cole told us you love red. You could fight bulls for days with as much as we bought.”
My jaw goes hard, and through a deathly whisper that I hope holds the promise of his demise, I grit, “You didn’t.”
He tucks a chunk of my unruly hair behind my ear before brushing his thumb over my bottom lip. “I did.”
“I hate red,” I seethe the fact he knows all too well.
His voice lowers to match mine as a satisfied smirk settles on his lips. “You know what it does to me when you wear red.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“Everything you do taunts me, but you in red? You better believe I’m going to keep coming at you.”
“You’ll never get what you want.”
“Wave your matador cape, sweetness. We’ll see about that.”
I reach out and touch him for the first time on my own accord since I woke in the hospital with him by my side. It’s not the kind of touch he wants, I can tell from the narrowing of his eyes. I squeeze the pressure point at the inside of his elbow to remind him I can take him down in a hot second should he need the reminder. “You’ll never win.”
“Do you like?” I look to the family room where Keelie is holding up a maxi dress the color of dusk in the desert. “It’ll be nice and loose while you’re recovering.”
“I love it and can’t thank you enough,” I call.
Familiar lips brush my ear and his words aren’t just a promise, they’re so steadfast, they come as a warning. “I’m the bull in this scenario and I’m fucking relentless. You’ll eventually let your guard down and I plan to take every advantage.”
I turn and he’s so close, his dark eyes are burning into mine, red hot—the way he likes it.
I hold my ground. “Are you laying a challenge at my feet?”
“There’s no challenge. You know you’re mine. I’m righting wrongs which should’ve been taken care of a long time ago.”
I want to argue but we both know I’m standing on shaky ground as it is. Unfortunately for me, that meaning isn’t only figurative, it’s literal too. I’ve been standing in one place for far too long and the pain is starting to creep in like sheers, carving