Page 15 of Wrecked
A certain ex-cop there to slather her in sunscreen didn’t sound too bad, either.
She took a deep drink of her water.
Dreams are free.
Dreams also didn’t have the ability to cut you down at the knees, humiliate you, and crush your heart.
She dropped her head back against the wall with a dull thud. Stop it, Piper. The stubborn male had already made it clear he wanted her. She just had to work out how to get him over whatever was holding him back—then get him to make a move.
Easy.
She snorted. Yeah, right.
She took another drink, then held the bottle’s cool surface against her forehead right as her phone vibrated in her pocket. She pulled it out and glanced at the screen. Daniel Taylor. Goddammit. She’d programmed the real estate agent’s number into her phone so she could avoid his incessant, pointless calls.
She hit end call.
Sighing, she stared out at the road, the asshole needed to take a hint already.
During the week, Axle Alley was crazy busy. The weekend, though? Not so much. So when a car slowed down out front, Piper lifted her head and took notice.
When it signaled, driving into West Restoration’s parking lot, she stood straighter.
Oh my God.
Her hand tightened around the water bottle, and her knees went a little weak.
Cole.
He didn’t spot her standing in the shade of the building, and his car carried on past the main doors, stopping by the outside steps to Alex’s old apartment.
What was he doing here?
She heard a door open then close, followed by the sound of footfalls on the stairs. The now familiar, uneven gait moving quickly to the top. Maybe Deke sent him to pick something up? Her face flushed hot.
Dammit. If she wanted to win over a man like Cole, she had to be confident, not all red-cheeked and stuttering.
He’d kissed her back. He’d been hard, for her. He could try to push her away all he liked, but he couldn’t deny the attraction between them. Not now.
And she couldn’t let this chance pass.
Tossing her water bottle in the recycling bin, she planted her hands on her hips and stared down at her boots.
You can do this.
The sound of his footfalls on the stairs came again, followed by the car door opening and closing. Shit. He was leaving. But he didn’t fire up the engine and drive away. Nope, the next thing she heard was him stomping back up the stairs.
Now or never. Brushing the loose strands of hair back from her face, she straightened her shoulders, sucked down a few fortifying breaths, and marched around the side of the garage.
There was no sign of Cole, but the trunk of his car was open. Books, CDs, a duffel bag, and a couple of boxes were crammed in. It was almost like he was moving—like he was moving in—to Alex’s apartment?
Deke would have told her if he’d rented the place out.
Wouldn’t he?
She shook her head in disgust. Of course he wouldn’t. She knew exactly what her control-freak brother was up to. Embarrassment forgotten, she stomped up the stairs and stormed into the small open kitchen/living room without knocking. She glanced around the room, and sure enough there were boxes on the kitchen bench and living room floor.
She sucked in a hurt, angry breath.
