Page 69 of Muddy Messy Love

My shoulders slump. For a hundred reasons, and one more than most. “The way we met for a start.” Swallowing, I frown at our shoes. My disco glitter boots to his sleek, sophisticated leather.

Cole steps one long foot between mine and brushes away loose strands of hair from my vision. “Don’t let one mistake define you. If everyone did, we’d all be screwed.”

My chest unknots a little, and with a half smile, I glance up. “Would you give that same advice to a murderer?”

He huffs. “You are not a murderer.”

“I’ll bet some ants and spiders would beg to differ,” I singsong, and Cole’s dimple flashes. “In any event, you could still get in trouble. We’re not parity colleagues.”

“I’d argue we’re not colleagues at all. Mini-Bees is a separate business, and my role is…unofficial.”

I cock a brow. “Yet Benedict’s company policy manual still applies?”

He leans in closer to my ear. “That wasn’t my finest moment, and we both know what fuelled it.”

Oh yes. Irrationality. Jealousy. The endearing qualities we seem to share. “People will still talk.” I shrug. “Judge and begrudge.”

Cole knits his brows mirthfully. “You didn’t consider all this before pouncing on me last weekend?”

My cheeks smoulder, but I can’t help but smile. Considering anything beyond the taste of his lips wasn’t a priority. And in fairness, I never dreamt we’d end up here. “Not my finest moment,” I reply, recycling his words before biting the inside of my cheek.

“I disagree,” Cole says, pressing his chest to mine. “I found it extremely fine.” His deep voice settles between my legs, igniting memories of last night while his fingertips skate down my spine. “Listen, when my colleagues work eighty-hour weeks—pull in half the revenue—eat, sleep, control, and breathe Benedict’s like I do, they, too, can do whatever they want. And I’ll fire anyone who dares look at you the wrong way.” He lifts my chin, and his eyes sparkle like dew-kissed spearmint leaves. “Okay?”

My gaze flickers to his mouth, and I lick my lips. “I don’t think that’s legal.”

A smug smile peels across his face. “How about you let me worry about what’s legal and not, hmm?”

I huff a soft laugh, and Cole drops a gentle kiss to my forehead, slowly, like he’s bestowing wisdom. “Good. Now let’s go. I’m late.”

“It’s seven-thirty.”

“Exactly,” he says, setting charge up the car park exit ramp.

Chantel eyes us as we enter the brass doors to Benedict’s, but her expression remains neutral. “Good morning Mr. Benedict, Ms. Masters.”

“Good morning, Chantel.” Cole doesn’t spare her a glance as he strides through the gleaming foyer. I, on the other hand, smile and wave like an awkward moron. The faint smell of disinfectant and the wet floor sign suggest Bernie’s nearby. Usually, I get to say hello, but usually I arrive thirty minutes from now when he’s packing up for the day.

We turn the corner, and Mini-Bees appears. The golden elevator stands opposite, mirroring the monochrome terrazzo sweeping down the hall. Hannah and Tej are there, along with two suits depositing their offspring. Hannah catches my eye with a smirk, then winks, while Cole merely glares ahead, game face on as he summons his inner snowman for the day.

“Well, I’ll see you later,” I say as I veer off towards the door, not wanting to interrupt his process. But a hand locks around my wrist.

“Wait,” Cole says, tugging me back to face him. He glares hard over my shoulder towards Mini-Bees and then crashes his lips to mine, clutching the back of my head as he feasts on my mouth like no one in public should. My knees weaken, and my body melts against his. If he doesn’t stop in precisely three seconds, I’ll ride him right here in the hall.

Thankfully, Cole does stop, but then he whispers in my ear, “I’ll be at your house tomorrow night. Say hello to Mike for me.”

“What?” I ask as I gather my wits, but Cole’s already tucked inside the elevator by then, his dark smirk glimmering as the doors glide shut.

Frowning, I turn to catch Hannah, Tej, and Mike Reynolds all staring before their gazes scatter like sprayed cockroaches. Hannah cups a giggle in her hand, and Tej’s brows climb higher than Snoop Dogg. But Mike’s reaction is the best. His face shines beetroot as he squats to kiss Alex goodbye.

I feel my cheeks follow suit and gulp.Cole. That cheeky devil. Staking his claim for all to see. He could have bonked me on the head, hitched me over his shoulder, and paraded me around caveman-style and it would have been far more subtle. And…I adore him for it.

As the door to Mini-Bees clicks shut, Mike rushes past me, averting his eyes as he mumbles my name. I bite back a grin. Maybe Cole was right about him.

I rest the small soldering iron inside its coil, flick off the power, then roll back on my stool. My first five pieces survived bisque firing, butHigh Heart Symphony—what I’ve named the lovers—andGirl, Take Me—the bleeding-heart piece before that—aren’t close to bone dry. And if they go into the kiln even slightly wet, they could explode, so I’ll wait a couple weeks to be safe.

I’ve finished the metal- and wire work for all seven. Coils and nests of copper. Tin-plate fragments woven through a webbed canopy of fine silver. A delicate crimped-wing butterfly. Two wire-spun hearts. Nothing will be attached until after the glaze fire, but things are taking shape, and honestly, I’m excited.More so than I’ve ever been about my work. So much, in fact, I snap a photo of the copper hearts to send to Jen. Her reply is immediate.

Jen:

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