Page 65 of (Un)Expected

However, when I shuffled into my living room, instead of the darkened quiet, I was greeted with the delicious smell of a home-cooked meal.

“Cole?”

“In here,” a gruff, deep voice called out from my kitchen.

I couldn’t help but smile when I entered the room. Cole was standing in the middle of my kitchen, wearing an apron I knew belonged to Curt as he smiled at me, making me forget about the “your opinion wasn’t on the ingredient list” transcribed on the front of it.

“What are you doing here?” I finally asked, forcing my brain to stop sputtering. “I thought we were going to meet up later.”

“Well…” Cole said, brushing the back of his head with his free hand. “I didn’t want to wait, and I knew you’d be starving. Figured this would be better than scarfing down pop-tarts when you walked in the door.”

Holy shit, this man was trying to kill me. It was a cruel joke—I hated Cole during our first meeting. I thought he was nothing more than a smug jerk destined to make me miserable, when in reality, he was one of the most thoughtful people I had ever met.

Unable to say anything else without making a fool of myself, I walked up to the stove, smelling the delectable aroma in a pan—a pan that was not mine. “Where did this come from?”

“I had to borrow a couple of things from next door. This kitchen needs some help, sweetheart.”

“Not for me,” I said, hopping up onto the kitchen island. I was tempted to pull out the box of pop-tarts to taunt him, but I stopped myself. “How did you get into my kitchen, anyway?”

“Calla,” he chuckled. “I’m not the only one concerned about your eating habits. She said you have the palate of a five-year-old.”

“Bullshit,” I laughed. “My palate is not the problem. It’s the cooking edible food part that gets me every time. There’s only so much charr I can eat.”

“No one ever taught you?”

“Nope.”

As if able to sense that I wanted to drop the topic, Cole held out his hand. “Then c’mere.” I arched my brow. “I’m not going to poison you, Alex. You wanna learn? I’ve heard I’m a hell of a teacher.”

With a resigned sigh, I let him help me down and lead me to the stove. I stood in front of the bubbling…sauce? Yes, it smelled like some kind of sauce. I didn’t dare to move, too scarred from too many failed kitchen experiments.

“Relax,” Cole whispered, sidling in behind me to rest his hand on my hip. “It’s just a simple chili. I didn’t know what you liked, so I went with a family recipe.” He took his other hand and placed the wooden spoon in mine. “All you have to do is stir.” When my headwhipped back to him, he lifted his hand, guiding my eyes back down to the pan. “You can’t possibly fuck it up.”

“Easy for you to say,” I muttered under my breath. However, as I let the spoon drift through the chili, I felt an odd sense of ease. At least, until I thought about Cole’s earlier words. “So, is this your move?”

“What do you mean?”

I lifted my hand to him on the other side of my kitchen, slicing up a loaf of Italian bread. “This whole master chef thing. Is this your move to get into girl’s pants?”

He laughed, and I couldn’t help but smile. Cole didn’t truly laugh often, but he should. The sound was much like his voice—rough and deep, while also incredibly soothing. “No moves, sweetheart. I’ve never cooked with anyone else before.”

Something about his tone made me take his words as fact. “Then who said you were a good teacher?”

As soon as the words escaped, a quiet tension crept between the two of us. For a moment, I thought Cole was going to chance the subject, but after a long pause, he muttered, “My sister.”

“You have a sister?”

“Yeah. Victoria.”

The resigned tone made me turn around. Cole had a haunted look in his eyes, as if talking about his sister physically pained him. Leaving the spoon in the pan, I took an apprehensive step toward him. Without overthinking, I brought my arms around his chest, placing my face against his back. He took a shuddered breath and put his hands on top of mine. “When I told you I went through a dark time, I wasn’t kidding. It impacted my relationship with my parents, but I hurt Victoria the most.”

“Have you talked to her?”

“Not as much as I should,” he sighed.

“Do you ever think about visiting her?”

“Maybe…” he said; however, from his defeated tone, I could tell he wasn’t really considering it. There was more to this story, I was sure of it, but I wasn’t going to push him, not when I was hiding parts of my past from him as well.

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