“That’ll be a hoot.” He snorted an easy laugh and stepped back, linking his hand back with hers. “Finn?”
“Yes, with Haley. And Lincoln and Pippa. Freya is with Zane.”
“Lincoln wasn’t too fond of me either. Nor Pippa.”
“Lincoln is super laid back, always was, but he never exactly ran in your same circle. Anyway, you’ll like him. He and Pippa got married, and she and I have always been friends, and as she’s Asher’s sister and Sophie’s best friend… you get the idea. Foothills has remained a small town. If it helps, he’s a lawyer, in case you get yourself into any trouble.”
Shaking his head, Cole led the way into the store. With bland colors and blank walls, it was less hip than the lingerie store, but had more variety than they would find in Foothills. They stopped in the middle of the crossroad between sections. “I guess it wouldn’t be so bad.”
“I’ll drive so you can relax.”
“You going to wear that leather miniskirt?” he nodded ahead toward a badassly dressed mannequin.
“Maybe,” she said, feeling her cheeks flame red as she imagined strutting into Foothills’ most hopping waterhole in a black leather miniskirt.
Still holding her hand, he tugged her close and nibbled his bottom lip, angling a look as he held her tight against him. “With your boots?”
Rolling her eyes, she flicked her tongue over her teeth and spun out of his arms. “Maybe.”
He laughed and stepped back, lingering before turning to start shopping.
9
Nice guys finish last
Somanyfirstdays,Cole didn’t even know where to rank this one. More schools than he could remember, growing up. More apartments, trailers, couches, group homes, foster homes. Assignments, squads, jobs.
Couple of drinks in a noisy, crowded, bizarre sort of bar with some people he once knew, plus a few he didn’t. Cole didn’t exactly suffer from social anxiety, or he hadn’t in the past. But holy fuck, he didn’t want to go.
In his bedroom, panic attack sprouting under his skin, vibrating into his head until he was nauseous, he clutched and released his fists. Closing his eyes, he drew in a breath to a slow count of four, hold for four, out for four, hold for four. Why in the fucking hell had he agreed to this?
A trill of knocks interrupted the stream of excuses he was working on. “Yeah?” he answered.
“Cole? Can I come in?” Ellen’s sweet voice shined through the door.
Shit. He didn’t want her to see him freaking out. He dashed to the door and eased it open, stepping back so he wasn’t blocking the door.
Ellen’s hair was pulled back in her usual loose bun, a few stray curls bouncing atop her forehead. More gray than strawberry blond anymore, but she was still a redhead through and through. “Well don’t you look handsome,” she said, beaming with a twinkle in her grin.
“Thanks,” he said, presenting his calm, collected, confident persona. Charismatic, unpretentious, likeable. He could blend in, stand out, become someone else entirely. For tonight, he was going to have to tap into some skills he thought he’d never need again.
“I see Trace made sure you had a nice-looking wardrobe,” she said, beaming as she looked him up and down, stalling with a slight wince as she noted the holes in his jeans and snugger fit of his shirt.
Apparently, Ellen assumed he needed a female touch to help him dress well. Cole was glad to have had Trace there for opinions, but he did his own shopping. His slim-fit jeans and Chelsea boots were very European compared to what most guys wore around here, but he couldn’t adapt back to baggy jeans. Although, Pacific Northwest weatherproof armor was practical, so he’d thrown a featherweight fleece hoodie over his t-shirt to protect himself from the torrent of rain that wouldn’t quit. The belt had been Trace’s idea, simple black leather with double notches to add a little edge.
“She’s got an eye,” he said warmly as Trace passed by on her way back to the bathroom. She scrunched a goofy wink as she walked past. Leather miniskirt swapped out for denim, she looked less self-conscious now, her walk more confident.
“Are you up for tonight?” Ellen asked him, leaning against his bedroom door jamb.
He stuffed his hands in his pockets, almost able to settle without adjusting his shoulder awkwardly at the seemingly innocuous but remarkably uncomfortable resting position. “Sure,” he said. “I mean, no,” he quickly added, not wanting to flat out lie twice in as many minutes. “But I’ll have Trace with me, and Finn offered to drive me home if I need to bail early, if Trace isn’t ready to go yet.”
Ellen glanced back over her shoulder, and then ducked into his room, closing the door behind her. Voice so quiet he could barely hear, she said, “You’ll make sure Trace doesn’t do anything too crazy?”
His chest lurched painfully with a stifled laugh. “What?”
“You’ve always looked out for each other, and I already had the talk with her about making sure you feel safe tonight. But…” Ellen looked around again, seeming to make sure Trace hadn’t snuck in and was hiding under the bed or some place she would overhear. “Did you see what she’s wearing?”
“I did,” he said, nodding to cover his mind-boggling confusion over this entire conversation. Hot as hell in the leather skirt and tall boots, but when his jaw dropped to the ground and he went completely nonverbal when she asked what he thought, she blushed and grinned and dove back into her bedroom. Best of all, she didn’t seem to realize that the denim skirt she came back out in was even hotter, with a little slit that showed extra leg, and he was a sucker for ripped denim.
