‘Tree looks good.’ Cole gave a vague wave. ‘Nicely decorated.’
‘Thanks.’ Not that she’d exactly been responsible for that but no need to share more than was necessary. She needed to stay in the here and now and get out of her head. ‘Have a seat.’
He lowered himself onto the sofa, a safe distance away from the recliner on which she perched. Already clocked off for the day, she’d changed into shorts—thankfully not too short—and a strappy cotton top which left her feeling strangely exposed. She crossed her arms across her middle, holding onto her elbows.
‘What was it you wanted to talk about?’
‘Owen seemed a bit happier after his session. I know you can’t give details but any chance I can find out how it’s all going?’
A tiny rainbow bubble burst inside of her. A professional question rather than personal. As it should be. ‘Okay, so I think we made some progress. He seemed more open to talking and we worked through a few potential sources of his frustration.’ How much should she say? Owen was a minor and Cole was technically his guardian. But breaking confidentiality was a strict no-no. ‘I can’t really say what those are.’
‘No. I get it. Sorry, I’m just looking to keep him out of trouble.’
‘I understand. Do you get to spend much time with him, outside of work hours?’
Cole gave an instant shake of his head. ‘Not really. By the time I finish shoeing and check on things at the farm, I pretty much eat and fall into bed.’
An image of him falling into her bed sizzled through her brain.Notacceptable. ‘I know it’s hard—’ Oh God, did she have to use that word? ‘But some one-on-one time with strong male role models in his life might be a help to Owen. I know his father is incapacitated, and that could be playing a part in his instability right now, so if he feels you’re on his side it could help.’
‘Okay. Makes sense. I’ll see what I can do.’ He tapped his hands on his knees and stood. ‘I’ll leave you to it.’
That was it? He was leaving? Her stupid heart sank. Of course he was leaving. Why wouldn’t he?
They moved towards the door in unison, her bare arm brushing against his as they stepped forwards and backwards in an impromptu line dance.
‘Sorry.’
‘Sorry.’
Cole laughed and the sound tinkled through her body like the glass beads of a dream catcher, soothing and melodious. Neither of them moved. The top of her head was level with his chin. It would only take one little upwards lift for their eyes to meet, for their lips to align.
Do. Not. Do. It.
But she did. She tipped her head back and stared into those deep, dark eyes. Got lost in the hypnotic, earthy scent of him. Pressed her lips to his when he leaned in closer. A tornado swirled deep in her belly, a vortex of heat spiralling through her centre, travelling north and south simultaneously, making her head spin and setting off an undeniable quiver between her legs. She sank into the kiss, her nipples hardening against his chest. The barely audible moan Cole made sparked a jolt of electricity through her veins, shocking her to her senses.
She sprang backwards. ‘God, sorry.’ She tucked her hair behind her ears and crossed her arms. ‘I don’t know—’
‘It’s fine. Honestly. More than fine.’
She looked everywhere but at him, at the splinter of timber poking out from the skirting board, the chipped pink polish on her big toe, the tiny bite mark the leech had left below her ankle, but she still heard the smile in his voice.
She reached for the door handle and pushed it open. But he didn’t step through it as she’d supposed—hoped—he would. Instead, he gripped his neck with one hand as if massaging out a crick.
‘I know you’re Owen’s counsellor and you said you don’t date patients’ relatives, but are you sure there isn’t a loophole?’
Oh God! He was asking her out again. Whatever was going on between them seemed to be a two-way thing. But she needed to shut it down. She hadn’t had sex in way too long and being around this guy was pure torture.
She winced. ‘It’s not really—’
‘I get it. But Owen won’t be your client forever, will he?’ The grin he left her with as he sidled out the door was positively wicked. She closed the door behind him, still holding the book he’d delivered. She clutched it to her chest but her pulse continued to race. The thrum down below increasing rather than dissipating.
No.
No, no, no, no, no.
She would not date a client’s brother. She would not date a man who was a farrier. Who worked on a farm. Who everybody in town seemed to know. Who was probably a good six years her junior. Even though her raging hormones were insisting she jump his bones sooner rather than later.
There was no way she could concentrate on spreadsheets and reports now. Not after that invitation. Not after that kiss. It was time to lose herself between the pages of a book. And the one in her hand had exactly the right amount of spice.