Explaining going to the big city to shop—underwear top of the list—with Cole—was not a conversation she wanted to have over the phone.
“The lingerie shop? As soon as they open? What’s the occasion?” Haley laughed sprightly, and this is exactly why Trace stayed in her comfort zone.
“Don’t laugh,” she said weakly defensively. “I’m breaking free from my rut, and that includes updating my entire wardrobe, from the underwear out.”
“Hey, I revamped my lingerie collection a few weeks ago. You will receive no negative judgment from me. But seriously, what’s going on that you’re in Seattle and hitting a lingerie shop? Alone? You know I would love to have come.”
“I’m not alone,” she said, glancing back into the salon. “I’m here with Cole.”
And… silence.
“Haley?” she squeaked, plugging her ear against the rev of a motorcycle zipping around the corner.
“Trace. I… are you hooking up with your… I guess I don’t know what he’s called. Foster brother? Does that still count when he’s over eighteen?”
“Cole is just Cole. Anyway, I’ll explain later. He’s almost done with his hair appointment.”
“I liked his long hair. But the beard was a bit scraggly…”
“Beardy’s gone. He grew the hair out for work and he wants to start fresh. He’s even been cracking jokes over the symbolism of it all in a very Cole way.” He’d certainly done enough therapy as a kid, and could probably write a book on coping with trauma.
“How’s he doing, really?”
Trace looked back in the window again, reassuring herself that he wouldn’t overhear. “Honestly? Not great. Physically, it’s going to take time, but he’s been released to doing physical therapy exercises at home now, and we’ve started working out together in the mornings. He’s come a long way in a short amount of time. Emotionally, it’s going to take longer. My dad finally convinced him to see a therapist, but he’s on a waiting list.”
“Maybe he should come out tonight. Asher and Zane would be so good for him.”
“I don’t think he’s met Zane yet, but Asher’s come to see him a bunch, and I don’t know what they talk about, but Cole’s usually in a better mood after. I’m pretty sure they stole the mayor’s car together on a whim back in high school, but they returned it.”
“Oh. Wow. Didn’t know… anyway. I know they want to keep the guest list to the minimum, but I bet they wouldn’t mind if you brought a date.”
Ugh. Trace was sick of being a third wheel. Fifth. Eleventh. Depending on how many of the gang showed, but they were all so ridiculously happy and in love…
And this was why she was so sick of her rut. The single one. Sweet. Perhaps frumpy, or at least lacks daring in her style. Not that any of them ever accused her of being “sweet” or “frumpy” or any of that shit. They knew she had a wicked sense of humor and had seen and heard her devious laugh, but like Cole had said, it wasn’t nearly as often as it used to be. But still, if even her best friend was shocked that she was hitting a fancy lingerie store?
Trace puffed out her cheeks and felt her gaze wandering back inside, hoping to catch a glimpse of Cole. “It would be nice to not be a lonely wheel.”
“I’ll talk to Sophie.”
Ugh, worse. Convincing the bride that their awkward single friend needed to bring a date to the world’s most casual not-wedding wedding. “Thanks,” she admitted with a pout. Things were shuffling inside, and she quickly said, “Oh, I think he’s done, I should…”
Words completely, blankly, epically garbled in her throat. Head tilting to get a better look, tongue humiliatingly lolling out, she whimpered as she watched.
That grin, out in full force as he stood at the register to pay. Shoulders back, confidence in full bloom. And that jawline she couldn’t resist, accented by his refusal to go perfectly clean-shaven since the nearly-kiss that still haunted every waking thought.
Shallow. That was it. She was a shallow, horny, desperate individual. But damn, he looked good before, but, as he’d said, the fresh start, his confident expression with the new haircut…
“Trace?” Haley’s distant voice echoed as the phone had drifted from her ear.
“Yeah. I, uh, gotta go,” she slurred, drunk on way too many hormones firing all at once. Without waiting for a response, she lowered the phone and ended the call without looking away.
Smile wickedly lifting higher on one side as he saw her, Cole strutted to the door and pushed it open, the wind not daring to slam the door back in his face like it had hers. Short on the sides, a little longer on top so that hint of curl was deviously playful, the cut suited him brilliantly.
“Hi,” she said, hoping she remembered to close her mouth.
“Hey,” he said, still grinning at her, stopping a few feet away and stuffing his hands in his pockets. “You ready?”
“Uh-huh,” she mumbled, finally blinking and shaking it off. “I like your hair,” she said, knowing she blushed and grinned like an idiot.
