Page 64 of Muddy Messy Love

Cole shakes his head. “No, but we’ve spoken on the phone. I know one of her colleagues well.”

Lucky for me. “Done,” I say after pressing send.

Cole holds up the ice. “You ready?”

I nod but still flinch when he presses it to my ankle. The ice bleeds through the woven fabric, needling my skin. To secure it, Cole double knots the wrinkled towel ends together.

“Thanks,” I say.

He glances around my room, taking it all in. “I never picked you for the mirror on the ceiling type.”

My gaze snaps up. Instead of the sky, the roof windows frame a reflection of the bed. And he’s right. They’re a perfect mirror, albeit tinted. I chuckle. “Beth isn’t that creepy, I promise.”

Our eyes meet above, and we stare at each other. Me at the foreignness of him in my room. Him at hell knows what. Despite our mismatched attire, we look good together.

“How was your trip?” I ask.

Cole immediately looks away, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Tiring and tedious.”

“Sounds amazing,” I tease. He flashes me a crooked smile, pinning me with those intense pale eyes, but I drop my chin and tangle the fringe of a throw cushion around my finger. “Where did you go?” I casually ask. Five nights ago we kissed, broke the law, bonded, and then he disappeared. While he doesn’t owe me an explanation, I am curious. And Iwasworried.

“Canberra,” he replies.

Canberra. I wonder what’s in Canberra other than Parliament House?

“Client meetings, subzero temperatures, and politicians. A lethal trio,” Cole adds as if reading my mind. A whisper of a smile tweaks his lips when I look up. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he says, but I shake away his words.

“You don’t owe me anything.”

He leans in closer and lifts my chin, compelling my eyes to his. “I’m sorry,” he repeats as if rejecting my last response.

I frown a little. “Okay. Apology accepted.”

He presses a kiss to my forehead, then stands to approach my dresser. His reflection fills its mirror, and I stare as he removes his jacket and lays it neatly in half over the back of my cushy armchair. I’m still processing the fact I’m worth an explanation and apology as he loosens the knot of his emerald tie, then looks at me apologetically. “Sorry. I hate wearing this noose any longer than necessary.”

“It’s fine,” I say, swallowing hard.

He whips the tie over his head and drapes it over the jacket before undoing the first two buttons of his white shirt. Next, he removes his cuff links, sets them down on my dresser, and rolls up his sleeves. My eyes lock onto the rainbow ink swirling up his sinewy forearm, and my chest fizzes like it’s full of Sunkist and sherbet. My fingers itch to touch and trace—to admire the tropical jungle and flowers up close—but I bite my top lip in restraint.

Control yourself, Avery. Jesus.

With a grin, Cole studies me. “What?”

I swallow again. “You look like aVoguecover model.”

Duct tape. Where is that fucking duct tape?

Cole’s laugh is full and deep. “Really? Maybe that’s fitting.” He ambles to my window. “Most days it feels like I’m playing dress-ups.” Poking his head outside, he surveys the roof, then turns to me, frowning. “That slope is a slide. Do you have a death wish?”

“Not most days.”

Cole seems to catch my bleak undertone, and something flashes across his face. “Can I shut it?” He dips his eyes to my chest for a millisecond before scrunching them closed as if to stop himself. “It’s pretty cold.”

“Sure,” I say, blushing and wriggling as I take stock of my naughty nipples. Heat immediately curls up from downstairs, but it’s not beneficial. The chill is helping me keep my cool,which is supremely difficult when Mr. Vogue is this close to my bed and images of him naked in it are assaulting me.

Cole looks equally pained as he kneads the back of his neck. “Mind if I grab some water?”

I pounce on the opportunity to do anything but sit here and squirm. “Let me get it for you. I’m the host, and my ankle is fine. The ice has already helped.”

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