Page 23 of Falling for Cocky Cole
She nods miserably against his shoulder. "Daddy can't take me for Friday shakes. He promised, but now he’s having dinner with someone else!”
Cole makes a thoughtful humming sound. "That is a problem. Friday shakes are important." He sets her down and crouches to her level. "What if... what if we pretend?"
"Pretend what?" Emily sniffles, curiosity temporarily overriding her distress.
"Pretend we're a family," Cole says, glancing up at me with a wink that sends a treacherous warmth through my chest. "Not your real family, but a pretend one. Me and Ivy could take you for your Friday shakes."
Emily considers this, her small brow furrowed. "But it's not the same."
"No," Cole agrees, surprising me with his honesty. "It's not the same. But sometimes when we can't have exactly what we want, we find something else that's still pretty good." He leans in conspiratorially. "Plus, did you know Miss Ivy used to work at the diner? She knows the secret to getting truly special milkshakes. Extra cherries and extra whipped cream."
I open my mouth to protest this blatant lie but catch myself. Emily is looking at me with newfound respect, as if I've been holding out on her all this time.
"You did?" she asks.
"Um, yeah," I lie, shooting Cole a look that promises retribution. "Lots of... cherry secrets."
Cole grins, standing back up. "So what do you say, Emily? Pretend family milkshake night?"
She looks between us, weighing her options with the gravity of a Supreme Court justice. Finally, she nods. "Okay. But I want sprinkles too."
"Deal," Cole says, holding out his pinky for her to hook with her own.
Twenty minutes later, we're seated in a red vinyl booth at Silvercreek Diner, Emily between us with a chocolate milkshake that's more whipped cream and toppings than actual ice cream. Despite my nonexistent diner credentials, Cole managed to charm the server—Patty, who's worked here since I was Emily's age—into adding not just extra cherries but rainbow sprinkles and chocolate chips.
"Table for a family of three?" he'd asked at the door, and something about the casual way he said it made my heart twist.
Now he's showing Emily how to dip fries into her milkshake, a combination that makes my nose wrinkle but has her giggling with delight.
"It's the perfect balance of salty and sweet," he explains seriously, as if imparting crucial culinary wisdom.
I watch them, struck by how natural he is with her. This is a side of Cole I haven't seen before—patient, playful without being flirtatious, genuinely invested in making a little girl's ruined evening better. It softens something in me, a resistance I didn't fully realize I was maintaining.
When Emily excuses herself to visit the restroom, proudly announcing she doesn't need help because she's five now, Cole slides into her side of the booth, his knee brushing mine under the table.
"Thanks for this," I say quietly. "You really saved the day."
He shrugs, but I can tell he's pleased. "I'm a fan of milkshakes and pretty girls. It's a win-win."
"I meant with Emily," I clarify, though my cheeks warm at the compliment.
"I know what you meant." His smile turns more genuine, less practiced. "She's a good kid. Been through a lot."
The way homeis filled with Emily's chatter about her milkshake adventure, her earlier meltdown apparently forgotten. When she’s dozing in her booster seat in the back of the Jeep, I glance over at Cole.
"So, what brought you to Grant's house anyway?" I ask. "Before you got drafted into family milkshake duty."
He keeps his eyes on the road, but a smile plays at the corner of his mouth. "Came to invite you to dinner at my place. I made you your favorite mushroom ravioli."
I blink in surprise. "How did you know that's my favorite?"
"Caleb told me." He glances at me quickly, gauging my reaction to his brother's name.
My stomach tightens. "How is he?" I ask, trying to sound casual.
"He's fine. We had a... discussion that night after you left the barn. But we're good now." Cole's hand adjusts on the steering wheel. "Actually, it was his idea that I ask you over. He even showed me how to make the ravioli. It's all ready—just needs to be tasted."
I fall silent, processing this information. Caleb suggested Cole invite me to dinner? After what happened? My brain tries to make sense of this as we pull into Grant's driveway, where his truck is already parked.
