Page 44 of Nanny for Grumpy Grant
"You're quiet," Cole says, his eyes flicking to me briefly before returning to the road. "Having second thoughts?"
"Just thinking," I reply, my fingers fidgeting with the hem of my dress.
"About?"
"About whether this is a good idea."
He nods, the movement deliberate. "We can turn around. I can take you back to your car."
But I don't want him to. That's the thing—I know exactly what I'm doing. Cole has a reputation, yes, but when I really think about it, what has he actually done that's so terrible? He's dated around, never stayed with anyone long enough for it to get serious. But he hasn't left a trail of devastation behind him. No one pregnant, no broken engagements, no truly shattered hearts as far as I know. Just a string of brief relationships that fizzled out naturally.
And that's perfect. That's exactly what I need.
I haven't been with anyone for months. My body feels like a tightly wound spring, and Cole—with his amber eyes and confident hands—seems like the ideal release.
"No," I say finally. "I don't want to turn around."
His smile spreads slow across his face. "Good."
We drive in comfortable silence for another minute, and I find myself thinking about my future. I'm not staying in Silvercreek long. A few weeks, maybe a month at most. Just enough time to help my parents with the orchard situation and clear my head before deciding on my next career move. Marriage and settling down are the furthest things from my mind, no matter how much my mother hints during our weekly calls.
A fling with Cole makes perfect sense. No strings, no expectations. Just tonight.
He turns onto a familiar street, and I recognize the approach to the Carter property. The old family house comes into view, andnext to it, the newer structure that Grant built before marrying Liz. A single light burns in an upstairs window of Grant's place.
I find myself wondering what he's doing right now. Probably reading a bedtime story to Emily, his voice soft and patient in a way it never is with adults. I remember the tender look in his eyes when he spoke to his daughter, how his usual gruffness melted away. Something tugs in my chest at the thought.
"What's that smile about?" Cole asks, pulling into the driveway.
I blink, banishing thoughts of Grant. "Nothing important."
The driveway is empty besides Cole's Jeep. No sign of Caleb's blue SUV.
"Caleb's not home?" I ask, suddenly realizing I hadn't considered what his younger brother might think about this situation.
"He's covering the night shift at the lodge," Cole explains as he cuts the engine. "One of our employees called in sick."
I nod, relief washing through me. It's not that what Caleb thinks matters—we're all adults—but it would be awkward to run into him tonight. The fewer complications, the better.
Cole turns in his seat to face me, the interior light casting shadows across his features. "So," he says, his voice dropping to that smooth, honeyed tone that probably works on every woman he meets. "You still want this, Ivy?"
Instead of answering, I lean across the center console and press my lips to his. His response is immediate—one hand sliding into my hair, the other finding my waist. The kiss deepens instantly, our mouths opening to each other with an urgency that surprises me. There's nothing tentative about it. We both know exactly what we want.
His tongue slides against mine, and I taste whiskey and desire. Cole's hand moves from my waist to my breast, cupping it through my dress, squeezing lightly. A moan escapes me, muffled against his mouth.
Without breaking the kiss, I shift awkwardly across the console, straddling him in the driver's seat. Cole groans as I settle against him, his hands finding my hips, then the sash of my wrap dress.
"Yes," I breathe against his lips, and he undoes my sash in one smooth motion.
The cool air hits my skin as my dress slips down to my waist. Cole's hands are warm against my back, stroking my bare skin while he continues to kiss me deeply. His lips leave mine to trail down my neck, leaving a path of heat that makes me shiver.
I tilt my head back, offering more of my neck to his hungry mouth. My fingers tangle in his chestnut hair, shorter on the sides but long enough on top to grip. His lips move lower, reaching my collarbone, then the swell of my breasts above my bra.
I squirm on his lap, feeling the hard ridge of him beneath me. The friction sends sparks shooting through my body, making me grind down harder. Cole's hands move to my bra, pushing the fabric aside without bothering to unhook it. His mouth closes around my nipple, and I gasp at the wet heat of his tongue.
Looking down, I meet his eyes as he sucks gently, the amber in them seeming to glow in the dim light. The sight of him—this beautiful man with his lips on my breast, looking up at me with undisguised want—makes me whimper.
"Cole," I breathe, my voice barely recognizable.
