Page 32 of Muddy Messy Love

We watch Tej, and I pretend to be engrossed by the next lively Wiggles song, but Cole’s in my peripheral, and I’m hyperaware of his every breath and minuscule movement. His fingers tap away inside his right pocket, but they’re triple speed to the beat and only seem to escalate the jittery, electric tension I’m certain hums between us.

Fuck, this is awkward. I don’t have functional pockets, so my hands just wring and mangle each other. Am I in trouble or not? I last another thirty seconds before I bite the bullet and lean in to speak. God, he smells phenomenal. “I should be working, not just standing here. I think the nappy bay’s calling my name.” Ioffer another dorky wave to say goodbye, but Cole frowns as I turn to leave, and a warm hand locks around my wrist to stop me. Tingles explode through me like a confetti cannon.

“Avery, wait.” I turn back to face him and catch him swallowing. My gaze darts to my wrist and back up again, which alerts Cole to the fact he’s yet to let go. Abruptly, he remedies that situation and instead rubs his jaw. “Um, I was wondering,” he starts, and the number of ways I’d love him to finish that sentence swirl through my mind, “if I ordered some air-dry clay, how would you feel about running weekly lessons for the kids?”

Oh wow.That idea is gold. “I wouldlovethat,” I beam, but the music cuts out, leaving my words booming across the room. The little ones all turn to gawk up at me, as does Tej, and Ella’s face lights up as she eagerly waves hello. My cheeks are on fire, but I wave back. So does Cole, which is nice.

Again, he does that annoyingly sexy smirk but this time studies me like I’m simultaneously the most endearing and tragic human on the planet. Heat pools between my legs regardless, but if I was a turtle, I’d slam inside my shell.

“Good,” he says, “I’ll make the arrangements. Enjoy the rest of your day.” Then, turning on his heel, he heads for the door.

I watch until he disappears into the foyer before exhaling, my shoulders slumping as I catch Tej’s curious gaze. He looks away, redirecting his attention back to the children as Hannah approaches with Jack nestled in her arms. “Was that Cole?” she asks, tilting Jack’s bottle of breast milk higher as it nears empty.

“Um, yeah,” I reply, tucking my hair behind my ears.

She frowns. “What did he want?”

“Um, he suggested I teach the kids sculpting once a week.” I wave a dismissive hand. “I think he was just on his way to lunch.”

Hannah crinkles her button nose. “He never used to leave for lunch. Not sure what the recent appeal is.” She discardsJack’s empty bottle on a shelf and rests him upright against her shoulder, patting his back. “So sculpting is your thing?”

“Yeah.” I smile. “It’s my thing.”

“What do you make?”

“People mainly.” I shrug. “Nudes. Masks. Busts. All from clay, but most have metalwork too.”

“Nudes, hey?” Hannah waggles her brows, and I roll my eyes.

“What are you—twelve?”

She chuckles, then hip-checks me. “Give or take nine years.” A small burp erupts from Jack, and Hannah returns him to a cradle position. “I’d love to see pics sometime.”

I stiffen. If sharing photos of my work didn’t feel like publishing my secret journal, I might agree. “Maybe one day. They’re works in progress for now.”

“Fair enough,” Hannah says, grabbing the empty bottle from the shelf. “It’s nappy time. Say bye-bye, Avery.” Jack’s little eyes boggle in my direction as she waves his tiny hand. I wave back, even though he’d only see me as a giant grey blur. Fitting, since that’s how I often feel. Like a clump of grey fog blemishing an otherwise crisp and elegant scene.

Hannah winks before heading to the nappy bay, and the second she turns away, I scan the hall outside, counting down the seconds until Cole’s return. God, look at me.

You’re pathetic, Avery Lee. Quit now before you embarrass yourself.

I clench my jaw. I think it’s too late for that, but I can still do something about it. I can stop this obsessive childish nonsense. This is my job, after all—my means of paying for uni—and I won’t jeopardise it. I can vow to epitomise professionalism and evict all racy thoughts of Cole Benedict.

The dramatic damsel in my head falls to the ground in protest. “But, but, but…,” she cries, draped in flowing white robes.“There’s something special about Cole. He’s different. We’re differentwithhim.”

I huff. Yeah. I’m sure my mother tells herself that before every doomed fling. Hell, I thought the same about Slade and look how that’s turned out.

I sigh.Oh, Slade.

Sitting back up, the damsel crosses her arms and mutters, “No, you didn’t.”

But I choose to ignore her.

Eight

Holy shit.

My mouth hangs open as I process my bank balance, and then I squeal, drumming my feet against the mattress before leaping from bed to race downstairs.

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