Page 17 of You, Me, and Lucky Number 13

“Now’s not the time, Cam,” he scolds, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. “And she”—he gestures to me and frowns—“is mine.”

Holy shit, my ovaries clench. Did he just saymine?

Of course, he did, stupid. He is playing fake boyfriend.

I swallow thickly. I didn’t think he would play it so well. For a second, I actually believed him.

The air crackles with tension. Is he… No. No way is he angry.

Cole’s gaze is locked on mine, a storm brewing in the depths of those whiskey-colored eyes.

He’s angry. He’s actually angry.

Everyone, even Cam, seems to sense that the air has shifted into something raw and unpredictable. Suddenly, my legs feelverybare as Cole’s gaze pins me in place. The amusement I usually see in his eyes has vanished and is replaced by something so intense that it sends a shiver down my spine.

He’s not pretending right now.

The realization hits me like a shot of NOS, jolting me out of my stupor. This isn’t part of the act. This is… real anger.

Finally, Cole breaks the silence, his voice clipped and sharp. “Get dressed, Lola. We have a meeting.”

The command, sharp and edged with rage, snaps me out of my paralysis. For a split second, I want to argue, to ask him just who the hell he thinks he’s bossing me around, but then I remember, he is technically my boss, and I don’t think this is the time or place to go head-to-head with him.

Without a word, I turn and flee as the weight of their stares burn into my back. Dashing up the stairs, Cole’s oversized T-shirt flaps around my thighs until I’m back in the sterile sanctuary of my room. I slam the door shut as I try controlling my breathing, ignoring the heady smell of Cole’s cologne hanging in the air. Ugh, I can’t even escape his presence when breathing.

Why? Why, God, do I have to always make such bad decisions?

Did I really need to put on his shirt and forego pants? Was it really that hot?

I pause for a second. Yes, yes, it wasthathot. Besides, I couldn’t get my clothes dirty working on Eleanor. Better to have wear Cole’s shirt and make a mess of it instead.

But still, logic aside, I can’t stop replaying the scene in the garage. The way Cole had looked at me, the anger in his voice, the possessive glint in his eyes when he said I was his.

It’s an act. It has to be. We are putting on a show, playing a role, pretending to be something we aren’t. It is a contract, a business arrangement, a means to an end.

I just didn’t realize Cole would be that good at it. I also thought I’d have a little more time to prepare before we started this little charade.

I shake my head, trying to clear the fog of confusion and something suspiciously close to hope. Who am I kidding? This is Cole Lawson. The same Cole Lawson who broke my heart years ago. The same guy who thrives on competition, who pushes everyone away, who builds walls around his heart higher than the fences at any racetrack.

Yeah, that Cole.

I want nothing to do with that Cole.

Yep, I needed that reminder.

I yank open the drawer, grabbing the first decent outfit I can find: jeans, a T-shirt, and my trusty racing jacket. There’s notime for a shower or an existential crisis. I have a reputation to rebuild, and so far, I’m failing miserably.

I hurry down the stairs, the scent of coffee wafting from the kitchen, then through the breezeway where I can hear the muffled sound of voices coming from what I assume is Cole’s office in his state-of-the-art garage. Taking a deep breath, I steel myself for the inevitable and the annoyance that comes with working alongside the man who still holds the power to piss me off and make me swoon in one breath.

CHAPTER SEVEN

COLE

As we walkto my office on the side of the garage, I’m still focused on the sight of Lola standing in the garage bathed in the golden glow of the morning sun, wearing my shirt as it hung loose against her slender frame hit me like a shot of pure adrenaline, a jolt of possessiveness so fierce it damn near knocked the air out of my lungs.

Her hair was a mess of blonde waves, falling over her shoulders like a golden waterfall, and her eyes, those big, expressive emerald eyes that could always see past my bullshit, were lit with a focus so intense it damn near made me come on the spot.

“Well, now I know why she was Chad’s lucky charm,” Cam drawls, a smirk playing on his lips now that Lola is gone.

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