Page 25 of L.O.V.E

With a nod, I answered. “Have to order it special.”

“You’ve been here before.” He twirled a small metal object in his right hand between his thumb and forefinger.

When he caught me looking, he leaned back and tucked the trinket into the front pocket of his jeans.

“Many, many times,” I said, taking in the room. Sage green walls. Dark, refurbished wood. Amber mood lights. A hidden gem. My hidden gem.

“Must be fate.” He smirked.

“Fate?”

With a shrug, he said, “Us bumping into each other.”

“I don’t believe in fate.” Much to my mother’s dismay.

“What do you believe in?”

“Hard work.” His fiancée taught me that lesson, relentless in telling me I’d never graduate college, let alone find a man willing to take care of me. I’d proven her wrong. I’d taken care of myself.

Cole considered my answer, nodded to the chair across from him. “Join me.”

A dinner alone with Cole would only lead to bad, bad things. “Oh, gosh. That’s nice, but I was planning on curling up on my couch with a good movie.” I lifted my arm in case he hadn’t noticed the to-go bag dangling from my fingers.

“Natalie. Don’t make a guy beg. I hate eating alone. Besides, it’d be a shame to hide in your apartment when you look so pretty.”

I looked down at my denim jacket, thigh-length sweater, worn leggings, and Moto boots. I hadn’t washed my hair all weekend, and forget about makeup.

“It’s cold and dreary outside. I just want to take off my bra, curl up on the couch, and binge watchRay Donovan.” And pout, I left unsaid, feeling sorry for myself because Lacey had spent every waking moment with Ellis since the day after Christmas.

“Sounds fun.” He gave me a once-over, not inappropriate by any means, more like he was trying to figure me out. “But here, you can eat with a quasi-handsome gentleman who happens to be good at conversation.”

He made a good point. And he was far more attractive than Liev Schreiber, and that was saying a lot. “Okay. Yeah. Why not?” I made myself comfortable in the chair opposite Cole’s and arranged my Styrofoam containers on the table, popping the lids and savoring the garlic aroma.

“And for the record, you’re more than quasi-handsome,” burst from my lips like a shaken can of soda exploding all over the room, leaving a sticky mess.

“Yeah?” he countered with double dimples, knocking me for a loop.

“Definitely.”Good Lord! I couldn’t stop myself, and I needed to stop.

He belonged to another. Victoria of all people. The scar on my forehead itched, a sobering reminder of the situation.

Rubbing the annoying tingle with the back of my hand, I asked, “Buy any new buildings today?”

A sly grin. “As a matter of fact, I did.” His eyes sparkled, swirling with pride.

“You should be celebrating.”

“I am.” His gaze slid to the table.

He was lonely. Just like me. God, how I wanted to throw my arms around that solid neck and kiss some joy back into his sullen gaze. Instead, I asked, “This is celebrating?”

“Sure.” He gestured to his food, then me. “Good food. Great company.”

Our gazes locked for longer than appropriate, and I heated in places that should be immune to his charm.

Cole cleared his throat, breaking the spell. “I don’t enjoy going out. I’d rather stay in, celebrate on the couch with a good movie, cold beer, my lady, clothing optional, of course.” He shot me a wink.

I tried to dodge the damn thing, but he gave good flirt, and that wink, innocent or not, hit my chest dead center.

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