The back of my eyes burned as I listened to her.
“But that doesn’t mean you’re seeing everything right. People are going to feel bad for you. I feel bad for you. It’s human nature for others to feel that way, and I bet Cole does feel that way,” she explained gently. “But that doesn’t mean that’s driving his actions. That doesn’t mean he asked you out to dinner, drove you home, and stayed on your couch because he pities you or feels like he had to.”
I stared at her.
“All I’m saying, maybe even asking, is that you judge him based on what he is doing,” she finished. “Not on what you think he’s doing. Okay?”
“Okay, Mom,” I whispered.
Her smile reached her tired eyes. “Good to hear that.” She rose. “Now I’m going up to bed. If you happen to hear anything about Angela, please let me know.”
“I will.”
Mom headed upstairs from the in-house stairs, and I double-checked the doors again. As I did so, something occurred to me. Heading back into the kitchen, I walked into the old room, and flipped on the overhead light. I walked over to the corkboard, searching out the keys until I found the one Mom had mentioned before.
Angela’s house key.
Hers hung at the bottom, next to an extra set of keys to Mom’s truck. Her key had one of those pink caps, and a black marker had etched AR on it. I reached out, running my fingers over the key, hoping that it would be reused again by Angela.
Sighing, I turned around, hit the light, and then entered the stairwell, making my way up to my apartment. Since it was almost ten, I washed my face and pulled my hair up in a bun. Then I changed into a pair of flannel pants that were nowhere near as sexy as the nightie I’d grabbed the night before.
My gaze zeroed in on the bed as I pulled a pale blue cami on. What Mom asked of me replayed over and over in my head.
Judge Cole on what he did, not on what I thought.
Such a simple idea, but it wasn’t easy when I got caught up in my head, thinking the things that I thought.
I walked over to my bed and picked up my nightie, folding it before taking it back to the drawer. Dinner yesterday did feel like forever ago, and if I was being honest with myself, I’d freaked out with Cole when I started to think about the Groom.
I grabbed an oversized cardigan, slipped it on, and padded back out into the living room. I was about to pick up the remote when there was a knock on the outside door.
I spun around, my heart leaping into my chest. I could think of only one person who’d use that access this time at night. Gathering the sides of my sweater together, I darted over to the back door and flipped on the porch light before pulling the blinds aside.
It was him.
The leaping heart started pumping wicked fast in my chest as I let go of the blinds. With a shaky hand, I unlocked the door and opened it.
Cole stood outside. Our gazes met. He didn’t say a word, and neither did I. Judge him for what he has done. I wasn’t sure I was of the right mind to be judging anyone at the moment, but I also knew the answer to Mom’s question, the one I said I didn’t know.
I still cared about Cole.
I don’t think I’d ever stopped caring for him, and I knew it sounded crazy, because there were ten years between us, but I believed that sometimes you cared so deeply about someone that no matter what happened, you never really stopped.
Because of that tiny truth I kept close to my heart, I stepped aside and let Cole in.
Chapter 13
Cole’s gaze moved over me, from the top of my messy bun to the tips of my bare toes, and when his eyes finally made it back to mine, one side of his lips quirked up in his familiar half grin.
“Cute,” he murmured, reaching down and unhooking the holster at his hip. It and the gun went onto the counter.
My hand flickered to my hair. “What is?”
“All of it.” He closed the door behind him, and the click of the locks turning into place made me feel oddly nervous. “Though I did like what you were wearing last night. That was also very . . . cute.”
Heat swept across my cheeks and filled my veins as I dropped my hand. “Let’s not talk about that.”
The kick to his lips spread to the other side as he tossed his keys on the kitchen island. “I’ll try not to bring up the lace I could feel but couldn’t see, but I won’t make any promises.”
The lace wasn’t the only thing he’d felt. Clutching the sides of my cardigan, I wished it had buttons, because I didn’t have a bra on underneath the cami, and I wasn’t the kind of person who could get away with not wearing a bra. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Not that I’m complaining, but you’re actually not going to ask why I’m here and demand that I leave?” he inquired, eyes gleaming in the light.
“Not yet,” I replied, dipping my chin. “But I won’t make any promises.”
Cole’s chuckle was deep and sexy.
The heat was now washing over my belly. “Why . . . are you here?”
“You forgot already? I told you my ass was going to be here until I get an alarm on this door and, come to think of it, your mother’s. Didn’t get a chance to talk to my buddy today, but I’ll do that tomorrow.”
Seconds away from pointing out I didn’t need a person acting like a real, live, breathing security system, I stopped myself mainly because I wanted him here. I also seriously doubted he’d be here every night until an alarm was installed.
“So, what do you have to drink?” he asked.
“Not much.” Pivoting on my bare feet, I walked over to the fridge. “I have some of my mom’s sweet tea, a couple of bottles of water, and Diet Coke. No alcohol. Sorry. I haven’t had a chance to run to the store yet.”
“Tea works for me.” He followed me into the narrow kitchen. “Got to work in the morning.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t be up late then,” I said, grabbing the tea. I turned, sucking in a soft breath when I discovered he was right behind me. The kitchen was small, but not that small. His closeness made me nervous again in that weird way. Not a bad way. Not unpleasant. Just in a way that made me feel hyperaware of anything about him, because there was this innate knowledge that he didn’t need to be this close. He was because he wanted to be.
I cleared my throat. “I mean, I figure you have a long commute.”
“My schedule doesn’t necessarily have a start time,” he said, angling his body so that we were feet to boots. “I can take care of myself. I’m a big boy.”
That he was.
Cole plucked the small pitcher of tea from my hands. “Where’re your glasses?”
“The cabinet above the sink.”