Page 90 of Muddy Messy Love

I mentally facepalm. She’s one second away from pulling Cole to the floor and riding him like a bull at a rodeo. I wonder if he sees it. Or is it just me? Is it always just me?

Cole takes a seat next to me, his warm arm coming to rest around my shoulders. The weight is welcome. There’s less chance I’ll jump over the coffee table to strangle Mum if I’m pinned. Her earlier words pop into my head. I look like hell, and now Cole’s here to see it. I rake my fingers through my hair, but they catch in knots. Oh God, Mum’s right. It’s ready to nest a family of birds.

“Leave it. You’re beautiful,” Cole whispers in my ear, his warm breath tickling my neck. “Freshly fucked looks good on you.” My hand drops to my lap like a duck shot from the sky, and I snap my eyes to Mum, but her expression offers no hint she heard.Relieved, I sink against Cole with my heart pulsing bigger—greater—soon it won’t fit in my chest.

“It sounded like you needed saving,” Cole adds under his breath, and I grimace.

Great. He heard everything.

“So, Cole, what do you do for a living?” Mum asks.

He offers a modest smile. “I’m a lawyer.”

“He isn’t just a lawyer,” I say. “He’s the managing partner of a prestigious firm.”

Mum’s brows shoot high. “Well then, perhaps you could represent me in my divorce. I imagine the fact you’re sleeping with my daughter affords me a significant discount.”

“Mum,” I gasp. “What the hell?”

Cole laughs and squeezes my shoulder—a silent instruction to relax. “I’m sorry, Sheila, but I don’t handle divorce cases, and the one who does isn’t taking new clients.”

Smooth as satin, Cole shuts her down with a falsehood. One divorce lawyer, my arse. My spine straightens with pride.

“Oh,” she says, “I guess I’ll have to keep looking, then. You’d think having a lawyer for a daughter, one wouldn’t have to search far, but apparently you’d be wrong.”

Huh. It seems Beth refused her call for help too—at least in the legal sense.Good.

Mum takes the last sip of tea, then rests her cup on the table beside her with a delicate chink. “So how did you two meet?”

I stiffen. Cole could divulge the entire sorry story, since he might not see the harm. I guess most mothers would know if their then seventeen-year-old was arrested, but it’s one weapon I couldn’t gift her. Swallowing, I throw Cole a panicked look, but he squeezes my shoulder again.

“We met at work,” he says. “Avery works in our child care centre.”

My muscles relax, but something stirs in the pit of my stomach. He’s lied twice in as many minutes, and the easy way they slid from his mouth unsettles me. I would believe him if I didn’t know the truth, but hell, I’m grateful.

Shaking away the thought, I look back to Mum and re-engage my polite tone. “I’ve been there for six weeks now.”

“Hmm,” she says, skimming her gaze over her fingernails. “It’s not law, but I guess child care is better than all that starving artist rubbish, at least.”

My mouth drops open, and the flickering flame in my belly extinguishes in a gust of icy wind. Cole stiffens but then clears his throat. “Avery is incredibly talented. She could forge a well-respected career if she so desired.” His words are laced with a coldness I’ve only heard directed at Slade.

Mum chuckles. “You seem like an intelligent man, Cole. Sculpting will never return a liveable income. Surely you see that?”

“With mediocre talent, perhaps, but your daughter is…breathtaking.” He stares at me, and the frosty bite in his voice melts on the last word. “I’m sure she could find a way.”

Goo. Sparkly rainbow glitter goo.

“How adorable young love is. As blind as it is new.” Mum’s patronising gaze finds mine. She picks up her teacup and holds it out in my direction. “I need a refill.”

Clearing my throat, I glance at Cole. “Would you like anything?”

He shakes his head but retrieves his arm and stands to take the cup from Mum. “Allow me.” His tight smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

Seizing the opportunity, I follow him to the kitchen. “I’m sorry about her,” I whisper.

He flicks the kettle on to a boil. Still warm, it rumbles to life, providing us with some privacy. “Stop apologising. It’s not yourfault.” Tenderly, he tucks my hair behind my ear and kisses my forehead.

Stepping in closer, I press my hands to his chest and sigh. “I’m glad you’re here, at least.”

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