Page 74 of Muddy Messy Love

I follow him. “You’ve never used it?”

“Hannah has a few times.”

“How long have you lived here again?”

“Three and a half years.”

I halt and plant my hands on my hips. “Threeyearsand you’ve never been so much as tempted?”

He stops and turns to face me. “Once. After too many bourbons, but thankfully, common sense prevailed.”

I rub my hands together. “Oh, that’s it. We have to try it.”

“Oh, no we don’t,” he says.

“Sure, we do.”

He tilts his head with a wry smile. “With all due respect, it’s hard to trust the woman who thinks falling off a roof is no big deal.”

“Itcouldhave been a big deal, but itwasn’t,” I clarify.

He stares at me with those eyes, and they burn with flames not yet lit.

A thought jumps into my head. “But wait—your staff retreat. You zip-lined there.”

“Not me. I prefer to keep my feet on the ground.” Cole narrows his eyes. “Exactly how many staff photos did you snoop through?”

My cheeks burn, but I shrug. “A few.” Well,allthe retreat ones. And the conferences. Award ceremonies. And I’ve revisited several times since, playing Where’s Cole in lieu of Wally, to observe him in his natural habitat amongst fellow suits and polished shoes. That’s what happens when someone refuses allsocial media, thereby blocking the opportunity to stalk. Slade was the same, but I guess he had more sinister reasons. Or an alias, come to think of it.

The corner of Cole’s mouth inches up, and I pull out Jen’s puppy-dog eyes and join my hands in prayer. “Please,” I say, dragging out the word.

He laughs and shakes his head. “I have a sister. That bollocks doesn’t work on me.”

“Are you sure?” I poke out my bottom lip, completing Jen’s technique.

He stares at me, and I watch his resolve evaporate like droplets of water on summer-scorched concrete. “Christ. At least let me grab a helmet.”

Not fifteen minutes later, Cole stands atop a weathered timber platform built around the thick trunk of a gum tree, wearing a graphite-coloured helmet more aerodynamic than a futuristic plane. He clutches the zip-line rope above his head, face ashen, chest rising and falling as he grumbles under his breath.

“I can go first,” I call up, but he shakes his head, keeping his eyes pinned ahead.

“If the line snaps, I don’t want you hurt.”

I gulp. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe he’ll end up injured—paralysed. Maybe he’ll…die, and it will be all my fault. My spine stiffens. “Wait—”

But Cole jumps off the platform, hooks his long legs around the discus seat, and soars through the trees. His shouts fade into the bushland, and I run down the hill, zigzagging my steps to avoid tripping up. My lungs burn by the time I meet him at the end. “Are you okay?”

Snapping the helmet clasp open, he turns to look at me with a brilliant white smile. “That was…” His eyes sparkle as he tries to find the word. “Awesome.”

“Awesome?” I cock a brow. “I didn’t know you knew that word.”

“I didn’t, until then.” Cole lifts the helmet off his head and plonks it on top of mine. He clips it shut and tightens the straps, then bops the end of my nose with his fingertip. “It’s your turn.”

We hike back up the hill, dragging the zip-line rope behind us. “I’m glad you’re here,” Cole says, and his smile is incandescent.

“Me too.” Then I nod towards the zip line. “Not for much longer, perhaps.”

“Nowshe’s nervous.” He laughs and nudges me with his shoulder. “Don’t worry, it felt solid, and I’ll catch you at the bottom.”

---