Cole watched them go, and I saw his fist clench at his side. I started to count, and when I got to ten, Cole pushed away from the wall. Anger management tricks, I knew, and he was putting them all to use.
I wondered what he was angry about. I didn’t, however, wonder enough to go ask him. No, I was much more selfish than that. I was still focused on my own problem with Cole—and it wasn’t his temper that I wanted to see explode.
I considered calling Flynn, my friend and roommate of the last few months. At best, he’d have a useful guy perspective on the whole mess. At worst, he’d offer a few soothing words. But I knew he was working tonight—if he wasn’t, he’d be at the gala. Flynn wasn’t one to miss a party. Especially not one that serves free alcohol.
Even a girl perspective would be good, but Angie and Evan had been double-booked tonight, and had already left to meet her parents for a wedding-planning dinner, and Tyler’s girlfriend, Sloane, hadn’t yet arrived.
I knew she was working late because last night over martinis she’d told me about the surveillance job she was on, but I’d thought she would be here by now. Selfish, maybe, but we’d become tight, and I wanted her around for moral support.
I glanced at my watch, then frowned. Then I told myself that it wasn’t fair to be annoyed when Sloane was off doing her job and had no clue that I was contemplating seduction and needed hand-holding.
Then—thankfully—the gal pal fairies took pity on me, because when I glanced toward the front of the gallery, I saw her pulling open the glass door and gliding over the threshold.
Despite the late hour, the air was stifling from an unseasonably hot May. Even so, Sloane looked bright and fresh and pretty—like the girl next door who just happened to have the hard edge and cynicism of a former cop. I started to head in that direction, then stopped when I saw Tyler approach her, his eyes bright with appreciation.
He pulled her close, and despite the room full of people, his welcoming kiss was long and lingering, and I swear I could see her glow from all the way across the room.
My stomach tightened in sudden, unexpected longing. I wanted to be that girl—precious in a man’s eyes. And with the power to bring him to his knees.
No. Not just any man. Cole.
I watched as Sloane brushed her hand possessively over Tyler’s arm, then whispered something to him. He laughed, then kissed her cheek. She moved away from him to enter the party, and he stood for a moment, his gaze lingering on her as he watched her go.
Since I was watching Tyler, I didn’t realize that Sloane had been coming my way until she eased up beside me. “Any news on the house?”
“We close next week,” I said. “I’m suffering from mild terror that it’s all going to get ripped out from under me. Like we’ll find out that something is horribly wrong with the foundation. Or the sellers will back out. Or the loan will fall through.”
The house had started as a whim. My natural state is to be in constant motion, everything from my habit of fidgeting to my general tendency to uproot myself every few years and move to a new city.
Over the last six years, though, I’d eased off that last trait. Instead of bouncing out of Chicago, I’d just bounced between apartments.
A few months ago, I decided that living in a house could be fun. I’d started out looking solely at rentals, but once I saw the tiny two-bedroom frame house, I knew it was like Charlie Brown’s Christmas tree. All it needed was a little love. More important, I knew it had to be mine.
I hadn’t even realized I’d been contemplating ownership until I’d picked up the real estate agent’s flyer, but I was tired of feeling uprooted. I wanted to settle. I wanted . . . more.
And now I was on the verge of having it.
Honestly, I liked the way that felt.