Page 69 of The Rebel

All I knew was that the second I’d walked into that conference room and Cooper realized I was a Cole, a look came over his face that was unlike anything I’d seen from him before.

He wasn’t gazing at me like I was the woman he wanted, the way he had while we were in Canada and again when we ran into each other at the liquor store.

He had glared at me like I was his enemy.

I couldn’t handle it.

Not when we’d be working so closely together.

Not when I’d probably see him every day.

And especially not because Cooper Spade was all I thought about.

A man I tried to push out of my thoughts, and every time I attempted, he somehow slid right back in. I couldn’t express my feelings to him while he didn’t know about my identity. It hadn’t felt right. Not when I was withholding something so vital. Butthings felt entirely different now that my name was out in the open.

In every way.

The biggest difference was that I hadn’t expected my feelings to grow.

And they had.

They had burrowed in my chest and refused to go anywhere.

I knew what it was like to care about someone. I’d cared for the men I’d dated in the past.

But this already felt unlike those other times.

This was heavy.

Consuming.

Just thinking about Cooper had the power to completely change my mood. The expression on my face. My desire for the future.

He wasn’t someone I had been looking for.

I hadn’t been looking for anyone.

But he was something I wanted.

And I hoped, more than anything, that tonight he would give me the chance?—

My thoughts came to a halt when I heard a beep, the tablet on the coffee table letting me know that someone was at my gate.

I quickly lifted it off the glass and pulled up the camera system, where the live feed showed footage of his car, the driver’s-side window rolled down and his handsome face looking directly at me.

With eyes that were so aloof that I had no idea what he was thinking.

But he had come.

I pressed the button that would open the gate, and I returned the tablet to the table, the weighted glass in my hand reminding me that I’d barely even taken a sip.

I’d been far too lost in my thoughts.

Thoughts that had consumed me to the point where I didn’t even realize it was nearing seven thirty. Almost thirty minutes past the time I’d told him to come over.

At least he’d shown.

I carried the glass to the front door, sipping it with each step. I still felt the edge that I had hoped to alleviate by drinking this—failing on both accounts—and now, the sensation was peaking as I opened the door, watching him walk up to the front of my house and stop a step below me.

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