Page 25 of Waiting Game

“Sure did.” Dropping the can on the counter, she snickers then seems to come to a decision. The next thing I know, she’s straightening up on the stool and locking eyes with me. “I’m going to bed now, Cole. Would you like to come with me?”

“Very much so,” I rumble in return, the humor in my voice fading in the face of her direct request.

She doesn’t wait for me as I get to my feet. Instead, she strides toward the bedroom, her intention clear—she wants to have sex. She wants to forget. And I’m the lucky asshole who was in the right place, at the right time.

As I follow her along the hall to the small bedroom, I watch her retreating spine as she steps into the bathroom.

This is a lot more clinical than I’m used to, a lot less grabby-handed, but I get it—I’m fulfilling a function tonight. One that might end with an orgasm or a bundle of sobbing woman in my arms. Either way, I’m okay with that for an ice-skating fairy who can appreciate my purple jeans, adopted five cats because they ‘found’ her, and knows Torvill and Dean off the top of her head.

Once I’ve stripped out of my tee, I drag off my jeans too, then in my boxer briefs, I clamber onto the bed.

With one hand behind my neck, I wait for her to come in, not bothering to turn on the light, quietly content to just lie here.

Though, I do think back to her dating profile.

I checked it out again before I messaged her earlier.

Hooked-Uphas this BS personality compatibility test that you have to endure to get to the main site. I only went on the damn app because Gray recommended it—he’s like me, sick of the puck bunnies.

That a computer algorithm thinks Mia and I are compatible isn’t reassuring, but her profilewas. It let me see that, beyond her grief, she has that same dry, quick sense of humor as I do, and having talked to her earlier today, I enjoyed how we bounced off one another despite the sad circumstances.

It’s been a long time since I’ve had that kind of rapport with the opposite sex. Hell, if I’ve ever had it with anyone who isn’t Gracie.

Though my lips purse at the thought, the opening of the bathroom door takes most of my attention. Especially when, the light as a backdrop, she walks out of theresansthe towel she was wearing earlier.

She strides to my side of the bed then clambers on top of me much as I did her mattress.

Her silhouette alone was enough to give me a chubby, but I’m not going to rush this. Not after what she’s been through today.

Instead, I let my hands find her shoulders and I gently rub them along her arms. I can feel the goosebumps pop up at my touch, and though, in the dark, she leans over me, her mouth seeking mine, I keep things slow.

I’ve had plenty of wham-bam-thank-you-ma’ams in my time. I know that’s what she wants. But because I’m willing to be the dick that’ll service her doesn’t mean that I’m going to let her get away with expecting so little when there’s potential here.

“Cole?” she whispers into the darkness.

I hum as she presses a kiss to the corner of my mouth. Her tits rub my chest as she wriggles against me.

“Are you wearing boxers?”

“Calvins.”

“Why?”

“Why Calvins? Because I have a hockey butt, Mia. It’d be a crime not to showcase it.”

There’s a soft pause, then she chuckles. “I meant more, ‘Why aren’t you naked?’ I wasn’t dissing your taste in underwear.”

Though I’m smiling, I cluck my tongue. “You need to be more specific.”

“I’m learning that I need to up my game with you, for sure,” she agrees, the tip of her nose gently rubbing over mine. “Are they purple?”

“Sure are.”

She snorts but her voice is softer as she whispers, “Cole?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for being here.”

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