Page 32 of L.O.V.E

“Natalie.” He swallowed. Looked over my shoulder. “I...um...”

“Nats?” A familiar, angry voice drew my attention to the man approaching on the sidewalk.

Holden wore a scowl, his features sharper than the last time I’d seen him. He wore black running pants, a black jacket zipped to his neck, and a black beanie, his hair now reaching almost to his shoulders.

Cole stepped in front of me, a vibrating wall of testosterone, an impenetrable shield between me and any threat.

“Baby,” Holden pleaded, though I couldn’t see him, only Cole’s back. “I’m not here to cause trouble. Just want to talk.”

“She’s got nothing to say to you.” Cole’s voice vibrated the surrounding air.

“I think that’s her decision,” Holden countered, eerily calm.

“Natalie,” Cole said over his shoulder, “your call.”

Obviously, I was not in the right frame of mind to make any judgement call. “I just want to go to bed.” I turned, keyed the number pad, and pushed the door open the moment it buzzed. As I escaped behind the glass, I threw over my shoulder, “Holden. You bother me again, you’re going to jail.” An empty threat since I hadn’t filed a restraining order. But I would. First thing in the morning.

It wasn’t until I’d reached the elevator that I realized Cole had followed me inside. It wasn’t until we reached my door that he said, “You thought I was going to kiss you.”

I died a thousand deaths right then and there.

“Yes.” I stared at the keys in my hand, then swallowed my shame and forced my gaze upward.

“I love Victoria,” he said, though I could swear, he winced, his gaze sliding to something over my shoulder before hitting me hard.

“I know.” All the men did. And none of them survived unscathed.

“We’re getting married soon.”

God. Was he trying to torture me? “I know that, too.”

“I hate cheaters.” Such conviction in his voice.

“Me, too,” I threw back with all honesty. Every boyfriend I’d had in high school had cheated on me with…guess who? Victoria.

Raking a hand through his hair, he murmured, “But you were going to let me kiss you.”

“Because I’m a terrible person.”

He didn’t try to convince me otherwise, instead announcing, “I should go.”

“I think that’s a good idea.”

With a nod, he took a step back. “Okay.” Then he stopped and asked, “You haven’t told Martin about your ex, have you?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“It’s my problem. I don’t want him to worry. Please don’t say anything.”

“Saying nothing gets women killed,” he said, glaring straight through me before dropping his head.

There was a story there, hiding behind his gruff tone and frustration. A story that was none of my business.

Hands to hips, he gnawed his bottom lip, then assured me, “I won’t say anything. As long as you promise to show up for those self-defense classes.”

“It’s a deal.”

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