Page 13 of Falling for Cocky Cole
"Coming, Em," I answer, but I don't move right away.
Yesterday's conversation with Cole keeps replaying in my head. He'd strolled into our office at the main lodge, leaning against my desk with that easy confidence he's always had.
"I've got an idea to boost our appeal to the upscale tourist crowd," he'd said, eyes bright with excitement. "We partner with Walkers Orchard for exclusive farm-to-table products. Fresh cider in the cabins, apple butter with breakfast, maybe even some specialty items for the gift shop."
It was a good idea—unexpected from Cole, who usually leaves the marketing and business development to me, but solid. I'd been suspicious immediately.
"Since when do you care about product sourcing?" I'd asked him.
He'd shrugged, that half-smile on his face. "Just thinking about our brand image. Walker's has that authentic local charm our clients eat up."
It didn't add up. Cole doesn't lose sleep over our "brand image." Then Caleb had walked in, and Cole's casual mention of Ivy's name made everything click into place.
"So that's what this is about," I'd said after Cole left. "He's interested in Ivy."
Caleb had given me that look—the one that says he knows more than he's letting on. "Seems that way. Ever since you hired her, he can't stop talking about her. Couldn't wait to check her out."
My jaw had tightened at that. "Ivy's not some conquest."
"I know that," Caleb had said quietly. "But does Cole?"
I push away from the window now, trying to shake off the memory. It's none of my business if something's developing between Ivy and Cole. They're both adults. They can date if they want to.
Besides, I love my brother. I want him to be happy. And Cole isn't really the playboy folks around town make him out to be. Sure, he flirts like it's breathing, and women have always fallen at his feet, but he's never been serious about any of them. Not because he's incapable of it—he just hasn't met the right one.
Maybe Ivy is the right one.
Ivy is... she's good. Feisty, like Cole says, with that fire in her blue eyes when she gets passionate about something. Responsible, too. She's been amazing with Emily so far, patient but firm, creative but structured. My daughter hasn't stopped talking about "Miss Ivy" since she started.
I hope to God she stays. For Emily's sake.
Who am I kidding? Not just for Emily's sake.
The truth is, it's been damn hard to maintain a professional boundary with Ivy. Those brief moments we're together in my house—when she arrives in the morning with her hair neatly put into a ponytail, when she leaves in the evening with smudges of marker or glitter on her hands—I look forward to them. I plan what I'll say. I replay our interactions afterward.
Pathetic.
I push my fingers through my hair and head back to the living room. My daughter is sitting on the floor, proudly holding up a crayon drawing of what I assume is Carter Ridge.
"See, Daddy? This is our house, and this is the big lodge, and these are the cabins where the people stay!"
"It's great, Em," I say, sitting down next to her. "You did a good job with the mountains in the background."
"Miss Ivy helped me with those," she says, beaming. "She says mountains are just triangles with bumpy tops."
And there it is again. Ivy's name. It's like this at dinner every night—Miss Ivy this, Miss Ivy that. A constant reminder of the woman I can't stop thinking about.
I've imagined a hundred times what it would be like to tell her how I feel. Would she give me that startled look, her eyes widening before her lips curved into a smile? Would she laugh awkwardly and let me down easy? Would she consider staying in Silvercreek for me, or would I be just another reason she'd want to leave this small town behind?
I keep postponing the conversation, telling myself there's time, that I need to be sure. Now it looks like I've waited too long.
Cole, that lucky bastard. When he sets his eyes on a woman, she rarely says no. It's always been that way, ever since we were teenagers. He has that easy charm, that way of making people feel special. I've never resented him for it before.
I'm not the type to compete with my own brothers. Never have been, never will be. Mom raised us better than that. But it doesn't mean I won't keep an eye on the situation. I won't let Cole hurt Ivy. She deserves better than to be another notch on his belt.
But what if it's not like that? What if Cole really is serious about her? What if they actually have something real? The thought twists in my gut like a knife.
"Daddy, you're not looking!" Emily tugs at my sleeve, pulling me back to the present.
