I screw up my face. “Is that what you think about when you ask me to dinner at Bailey’s?”
“Don’t look at me like that. If you weren’t so delectable, so irresistible, so damned addictive, I wouldn’t think about you all the time like I do. It’s your own fault.”
He bends his head to nip at my breast with his teeth. “If you’re leaving, you’d better stop right there,” I warn.
His sigh is long and loud. “Fine. I guess I’m going. I had a good reason, right?” he teases.
“Emmy.”
“Right right. A very good reason.”
I grin as he pecks me hard on the mouth and walks away like I took his favorite toy.
I think to myself after I hear the front door shut and snap locked that he’s not the only one who’s addicted.
TWENTY-FOUR
Cole
MAYBE COMING TO Bailey’s was a mistake. I expected the whispers and the long, odd looks, but I never expected to feel so…possessive. I find myself glaring at any man who stares at Eden for more than ten seconds. And there are a lot of them. Bailey’s is the only place to eat in the whole town. It has a pretty big crowd on the weekends.
It doesn’t help that my mood was a little testy to begin with. I didn’t really want to leave Eden’s this morning. I wanted to stay, to play with her beautiful breasts, to lick her satiny skin, to reach deep inside her body with mine and drag out moans and gasps from her unwilling lungs. That constant want left me distracted when I went to the beach.
After that, I came home and showered, torn between thoughts of what Eden’s body would look like all wet and soapy, and the asshole that I am for finding some amount of happiness when my own daughter can’t.
All in all, it left my mood a little sour before we even arrived at Bailey’s. And now I’m having to contend with all the locals drooling over my beautiful date.
“Are you okay?” Eden asks as we take a seat at one of the few booths available in Bailey’s.
“Of course. Why?”
She watches me suspiciously, her hazel gray eyes searching mine for answers that I’m unwilling to give. “Just curious.”
I open the menu and pretend to peruse it. I’ve got the whole thing memorized and I already know what I want. I just need a few minutes to collect myself, to conceal the growing agitation that must be reflected on my face.
“Hiya, sweetie,” Jordan slurs when she approaches the table to take our order. She leans down to hug Eden. “I’ve been meaning to get out to your place, but it looks like you’ve been plenty busy without my company,” she says loudly as she nods in my direction.
I scowl at her.
“Oh come on, Cole! You know there’s no keeping secrets in this town. Everything comes out eventually.”
I grit my teeth.
“Maybe people should just mind their own business,” I say mildly, holding her brown eyes until her smile dies.
“Well,” Jordan says, clearing her throat and turning to Eden. “What can I get you two tonight?”
Eden orders Emmy’s meal and then her own. After I order and Jordan leaves, she announces, “Emmy and I are going to check out the jukebox.” She says it with a smile, but I can see the tightness in her face.
She doesn’t give me time to respond, just gets up, waits for Emmy to slide out and then they walk off.
I’m screwing this up. I know I am. But damn! I feel kind of crazy today. I’m used to feeling one of two emotions–pain or numbness. Not all this other stuff.
I watch Eden as she walks away. Her ass looks amazing in the jeans she’s wearing and her pink sweater fits her upper body to perfection. Nearly every head turns as she passes. Even the women look, although they’re probably either jealous because she’s so incredibly beautiful or appreciative of her relationship with her daughter. It’s plain to see that she adores Emmy and that she’s a good mother. It’s there in the way Emmy looks up at her and the way Eden never lets go of her hand.
The longer I watch her, the more I realize that she’s the perfect woman. And the more I think about it, the more it eats at me that everyone else wants her, too.
She avoids my eyes as she walks back to the booth, making me feel even more like a shitheel for ruining her night out with Emmy.
I wait until they’re both situated back in the booth and Emmy is coloring before I speak. “I’m sorry,” I tell her quietly.
That draws her stormy eyes back to mine. “For what?”
She’s not playing dumb. She’s asking me what’s been up my ass.
I sigh. “I’ve never been jealous before.”
Her brows draw together. “Jealous? Of what?”
“Of all these men looking at you.”
She glances around. “What men looking at me?”
“You really don’t see it, do you?”
“See what?” She’s genuinely perplexed.
“See the way your hair pours down your back like a waterfall made of ink. See the way your eyes sparkle when you look at Emmy. See the way your laugh makes other people smile. See the way everybody wants you.”