Page 115 of Shelter
“Here you go,” Ava murmured, placing the lightest coffee in front of me and the darkest before Cole. She nodded toward my cup. “Is it okay?”
I lifted it to my lips, blew over the surface, and sipped.“Mmm…”It was sweet. Sweeter than I usually made it, but better, too. “Perfect.”
“Out of curiosity,” Cole began, feigning a frown at Ava. “How many sugar cubes did you use?”
I shook my head. “Don’t tell him.” It was more than three. I usually took three, and this was deliciously sweeter.
“Two?” Cole asked his sister.
She lifted her coffee and blew on it, saying nothing.
“Three?” he asked, his eyebrows peaking. He glanced at me, and I took another sip of my sinful cup.
“Don’t tell me you used four sugars,” he said, searching Ava’s face for a tell.
She shook her head. “I didn’t.” Then she took a sip of her coffee and cleared her throat. “I used five.”
“Ava!”
At my outburst, Cole fell apart again, laughing like I’d only seen him laugh a handful of times. Judging by the wistful look on Ava’s face as she watched him, the scene was a rare one for her too. I quickly overcame my embarrassment. Cole could laugh at my sweet tooth whenever he wanted.
“Here.” Chuckling, he leaned forward and handed me a plate bearing a sizeable brownie. “Ava sold you out, but this should make you feel better.”
I rolled my eyes at him, forcing him to smother another fit of laughter, but he wasn’t wrong. The brownie was excellent consolation.
* * *
An hour later,the three of us may as well have melted into the couch cushions. I was more comfortable right there in Cole and Ava’s living room than I’d felt in my own bed the last week. The air had been cleared between us. The anger and hurt I’d carried over Cole’s rejection and radio silence had faded, like a bruise. It was still a tender spot, surely, but no longer the open wound or even the scar it had once been. We could meet the future as friends again. Of this, I was sure.
But I couldn’t let myself think of having more with Cole. Even after just a few hours in his company, I wanted that too much, and when it came to Cole, wanting more was dangerous territory.
So, when Ava finally stood to clear the dessert dishes, I started to rise with her. “Thank you so much for having me ov—”
“No, no.” Ava shushed me. “You stay put.”
At the same moment, Cole reached for my hand again and anchored it to the cushion between us. “You’re leaving already?” he asked, wearing a slight frown. To anyone else — even to Ava who’d moved behind us toward the kitchen — his words and expression could have marked the token protest of any practiced host, but the strength and heat in his grip spoke to me alone.
Cole did not want me to leave.
“Um… y-yeah,” I stammered, his touch reordering my thoughts and spiral-slicing my language skills.
“But it’s not even nine-thirty.” He sounded so casual, so polite, but he squeezed my hand. Our eyes locked, and he held my gaze, unblinking. “Do you have work tomorrow?”
I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. “No, I don’t have work tomorrow.”
“Do you have to set up your jewelry booth for the farmer’s market?” he pressed, his frown deepening.
I shook my head. “No, it’s not my weekend.”
His starlight blue eyes lit with mischief. “Then why don’t you stay a little longer?”
I glanced over my shoulder at Ava, but she was no help. She turned on the faucet, her arched expression saying something like“See what I mean?”
And I didn’t want to leave. It was as simple as that. I sunk back into the cushions. “Okay.”
Cole leaned back too, wearing a look of relief. “I told you I wasn’t finished holding your hand,” he murmured only softly enough for me to hear.
The water in the kitchen shut off before the gentle whir of the dishwasher filled the room. “I’ll be right back, guys.” Ava said. And then she was gone.
