Two is a Lie(32)

“That’s the plan.”

“Until then, prepare yourself for double the highs, double the lows. A relationship with one person is a lot of work. But with two?” He pats my back and stares at me like a father would a daughter. “I don’t envy you, young lady.”

“Yeah.” I chuckle, and it sounds more like a groan. “Thanks.”

“Anytime you need to talk, you know where to find me.”

“I appreciate that.”

I return to the dance floor, giving Cole a reprieve to sit and watch. And watch he does, reclined in a chair, legs spread, and eyes like liquid fire as he devours every move of my body.

His face is hard, cut in a lethal way that conjures seedy hotel rooms, guns in his hands, and a cigarette perched between his lips. I don’t know what his job looks like, but as I watch him watch me, I realize he’s probably a very dangerous man. Not dangerous to me. But I have a gut feeling he’s killed people, and I don’t know how to process that.

So I do what I always do and let the music eclipse my thoughts. I shake and twirl and move in sync with dozens of smiling people who have very little to smile about.

Later that night, I ride home on the back of Cole’s motorcycle, both invigorated and tired, but also a little worried.

He’s going to put the moves on me when we get home. I just know it. I saw it in the melty way his eyelids fell at half-mast while he watched me dance. He waited for me for over four years, and he’s not the kind of man who goes without sex.

With a hand on the gas and the other on the clutch, he’s the epitome of power and seduction. That sounds so silly and girly, but I’ve always had this reaction to him. Like I’m sixteen all over again, crushing on a boy to the point of foolish obsession.

But that’s not all this is. Our love runs deep, enduring miles and years and even death.

I hug his broad back, relishing the proximity of his strength, his life. I love this man, and I want to show him with every inch of my body. But I can’t. Because Trace…

I stop myself at that thought and make a personal vow. When I’m with one of them, I won’t think about the other one, until which point I can’t help myself. Then I’ll know. If I’m longing for the one I’m not with, I’ll know which one I want more.

As we motor out of downtown, a light drizzle forms in the chilly air, hovering like a spook-white mist against the black sky, lifeless, motherless. I nuzzle into Cole’s warmth and remain there long after he shuts off the engine in my driveway.

“Danni?” His gravelly voice rumbles through me.

I snuggle closer. “You’re so warm.”

“I’ll make you warmer inside.”

“So will a hot shower.” I reluctantly peel myself off his body and head indoors.

We take turns in the bathroom, and I’m surprised he doesn’t suggest we shower together. Maybe this won’t be as hard as I thought.

I lie in bed, finger combing my wet hair and listening to the rattle of the pipes as he finishes in the bathroom. When the shower shuts off, I sit up and stare at the closed door to my bedroom.

We didn’t say goodnight, and it’s only nine o’clock. Will he go to the basement or try to seduce his way into my bed?

Nervous energy has me reaching for the drawstrings on my pajama pants. I double-knot them, as if that’ll keep him out.

Then I grab my phone, looking for a distraction. There’s a few missed texts, probably from Trace. I ignore those and pull up my playlist, selecting a mellow song on low volume.

As Lust For Life by Lana Del Rey trickles in the background, I close my eyes and sway to the melody.

I don’t know what I expected from spending the day with Cole. It’s too early to make a decision, but I feel more lost than ever.

No, not lost. I’m more certain about my feelings for him than I was this morning. Spending my life with rugged, sexy Cole Hartman would be as epic and passionate as I always imagined. No woman in her right mind would walk away from him.

I press my face in my hands and try to keep my emotions under control. I need time, and that’s okay. As long as he and Trace aren’t miserable, I can forgive myself for being indecisive.

A knock sounds on the bedroom door, and I whip my head up.

I’m going to open that door, and he’s going to weaken me with the look. The one I can’t refuse. And he’s going to smell clean and yummy with his hair all wet and tousled.

Shitty, shit, shit. I draw in a deep breath just as Lana launches into the chorus about taking off clothes. That won’t give him the wrong idea or anything.

I slide off the bed and crack the door wide enough to slip out. Then I shut it behind me and lean against the heavy wood before lifting my eyes to his.