with life’s uncertainties and not having a place to live.” She cocked her head. “Being open to change doesn’t necessarily mean not making plans.”
Trent winked. “Don’t worry about me, I got options.”
“I’m sure you do.” A man like Trent would have open arms wherever he went—people loved him. That much was already obvious. The people on his cricket team, the woman in the café who spouted his praise when Cora mentioned the Walters name. He was beloved.
Cora drained the pasta, mixed in the sauce, and served their portions into two bowls. “But doesn’t it…scare you, not knowing how things will be in a few weeks’ time?”
“When I’m relying on myself, I don’t have too much to be scared about,” he quipped.
Hmm, didn’t she feel that down to her bones. Relying on yourself was safe… It was everyone else in the world who made things risky.
They settled at the table, and Trent poured the wine into both their glasses. When they clinked them together, the chime rang through the quiet house. It was so peaceful here, with only the rustling trees and the chatter of birds outside as a backdrop.
Maybe she’d feel free and breezy like Trent if she lived somewhere as beautiful and still as this.
He swirled his fork into the pasta and shoved a hearty mouthful between his lips. The sound that followed was enough to melt Cora into a puddle at his feet. “This is amazing,” he said. “Where did you learn to cook like this?”
“YouTube.” She sipped her wine. “There’s nothing I love more than picking a topic and watching a bunch of videos so I can teach myself how to do something new.”
“I bet you did well in school,” he said with a laugh.
“I did,” she said matter-of-factly. Music conservatory disaster aside, that was. “I like learning.”
“I hated school,” he admitted. “I’ve always been better with my hands than with numbers and words.”
The comment drew Cora’s gaze down to Trent’s hands, and it kicked up the memory of them at the beach—him standing close behind her, rough and yet gentle hands guiding hers, hips at her back. There wasn’t a single doubt in her mind that he was good with his hands. Panty-meltingly, brain-numbingly, skin-scorchingly good. Her whole body tingled as though coaxing her to imagine what it would be like to have them sliding over her body—cupping, holding, smoothing, kneading.
“You look a little pink,” he said, cocking his head.
“Standing over a stove is…hot.”
Thank you, Captain Obvious.
Lordy. No doubt Trent observed every little bit of that fantasy rolling across her face. How was she supposed to hide something like that? Alex had told her once that she had the world’s worst poker face. Hiding her feelings wasn’t a strong suit, and she wanted Trent so badly, it must have been like red ink stamped all over her.
She twirled some pasta onto her fork. “Doesn’t help that this country is basically a giant fireball.”
“So that’s it, huh? Just the weather?” He was watching her closely, which made it hard to eat. To breathe. Her appetite had morphed and shifted and turned into something else. Suddenly all the food laid out before them wasn’t all that appealing, not when other hungers needed attention.
You really want to do this?
Yes. She knew that it was wrong on a bunch of levels—Trent was her friend’s brother, and Cora was recently out of a breakup, head and heart still hurting. Mind reeling. Emotions running wild.
But for her whole entire life, Cora had followed the rules. Followed orders. Worked hard.
And that had done nothing but made her feel like a failure, so why didn’t she deserve to do something reckless for a change? Why couldn’t she seize life in the way so many others did without a second thought? Without worrying what people would think? Without making a list of “what ifs” in her brain?
Nobody knew her here, and she didn’t need anything from Patterson’s Bluff.
The thought was freeing. Here, she could be herself and damn anyone who didn’t like her. Damn anyone who rejected her. Damn anyone who didn’t accept her.
This was her moment and screw the consequences.
“I’m overheated because I can’t stop thinking about what it would be like if you kissed me.”
Chapter Eleven
The words came out in a rush, like a whoosh of breath that had been held for too long. It was both a weight off her shoulders and electricity in her veins, the anticipation of his response making her giddy and breathless like a teenager.