I struggled to deal with what she was saying, and I doubted I kept that struggle out of my expression. “He’s such a bad boy,” I squeaked out.
She chuckled. “No way.”
“But . . . but he’s so cocky and flirty . . .” I trailed off, that uneasiness in my gut starting to make sense all of a sudden.
“Well, he’s spent his formative years surrounded by men incapable of restraint when it comes to flirting outrageously with their wives. Each one of them”—she gestured around the room—“is a cocky, arrogant, overconfident bugger.” She grinned. “But you won’t find men who are more loyal or loving to their wives.” Her expression turned serious. “We’ve all been through a lot. As has Cole. Like us, he knows what’s important. And he’s been deeply influenced by the men in his life. Cole’s never been a fan of casual. With the exception of Jessica and probably some alcohol-induced one-night stands, Cole has only ever been in relationships. He’s looking for the right woman to settle down with. He’s a romantic.” Her eyes glimmered with deep affection. “He’s also one of the best men I’ve ever, ever, ever met. I love him dearly, and . . . I only want the very best for him,” she concluded pointedly.
I felt awful as soon as she finished speaking. Absolutely, truly awful.
“I don’t respect players like you. I don’t like you. I don’t trust you. There’s nothing behind that charming smile but empty promises. You have nothing real to offer me or anyone who finds herself a victim of your flirtation. The difference between them and me, however, is that I’m smart enough to see you for what you really are . . . Nothing.”
“Forget the hilariously random analogy that didn’t even make a lot of sense but totally did anyway. What the hell are you talking about?”
“Cole. Bad boy.”
“Right.”
“What?”
“Nothing. I’ll let you figure this one out on your own, you bloody numb nut.”
I squeezed my eyes shut tight at the memories. “I am such a bitch.”
Feeling Hannah’s hand resting on my arm, I opened my eyes to find her staring at me with a surprising amount of kindness. “Somehow I don’t believe that’s true.”
And on that enigmatic comment she walked away, leaving me to drown my guilt in a large glass of red wine.
CHAPTER 8
O nce when I was ten I had helped my granddad throw out some old things because Gran was doing her yearly spring clean and somehow Granddad’s belongings always ended up taking the brunt of the clear-out.
My granddad had books everywhere. I remembered grabbing books that were piled randomly in the corner of the sitting room and asking him if they were to be thrown out. His response was an immediate and very adamant no. I made a face and asked him why since no one else had probably even heard of the books with their very boring covers. Granddad had tutted at me and told me that inside the books were the best stories he’d ever read, and that I shouldn’t judge them solely on their bad marketing.
I hadn’t really understood at the time, but I guessed he was quite literally telling me not to judge a book by its cover.
An old cliché.
A cliché it might have been but one lesson I should never have forgotten. After Hannah’s revelations about Cole’s true character, I left his party quickly. I barely slept that night¸ consumed with guilt for judging Cole on what happened to be bad marketing from my perspective. Amid the guilt was regret and something bigger. Something a little like panic.
* * *
The next day at work I didn’t know how I was supposed to act around Cole. It seemed it was back to business as usual for him, because he didn’t come out to greet me when I pushed open the front door of the studio.
Simon did, looking a little worse for wear as he took his coffee from me. “Thank f**k,” he muttered. “I started in on the whisky after five beers last night.” He took a sip of his coffee and frowned at me. “Where did you run off to?”
I shrugged, already uncomfortable. “Home. Headache.”
He gave me an incredulous look.
With a heavy sigh I told him the truth. “I think I may have made some not very nice assumptions about Cole.”
“Has this got anything to do with the cold war between you two?”
I nodded. “And now I don’t know how to fix it.”
“Why not start with just being nice to him?”
“Nice?”
“Nice.”
Not sure how to go about making that change after being such a bitch, I looked down at my coffee to avoid Simon’s gaze. I felt ashamed of my behavior these last few weeks. How the heck did I go about trying to make amends?
I contemplated my coffee. “What does Cole drink?”
Simon chuckled. “A cortado. One sugar.”
“The coffee shop is right around the corner,” I mused.
“It is.” Simon grinned. “I’ll man the desk for you.”
I returned his smile with a grateful one of my own before shrugging into my jacket and hurrying out to the coffee shop. Not even five minutes later I was back in the studio. As soon as I stepped inside with Cole’s cortado, Simon winked at me and left the reception for his workroom.
I looked down at Cole’s coffee and felt the butterflies in my belly go wild. Bolstering myself against nerves, I threw my shoulders back and headed toward the workrooms.
Stopping in the doorway of Cole’s room, I almost completely lost my nerve. He was sitting with one ankle resting on the opposite knee, his sketch pad on his lap, and his head bent, as he concentrated on what he was drawing.
He was really handsome. I knew this. I’d known this from the moment I met him, but that feeling was back—that feeling I’d had when I was fifteen years old and I was staring up into his green eyes in absolute delight. That feeling you get when you realize something special about another person and he goes from being attractive to downright kick-you-in-the-gut good-looking.
I’d learned a lot about Cole in the last few days.
He was so damn kick-you-in-the-gut good-looking now.
Catching sight of me out of the corner of his eye, Cole lifted his head in surprise.
In response to his silent question I took two steps forward and thrust the coffee at him.
He raised an eyebrow. The gesture was too sexy for words.
My hand trembled.
Cole watched the coffee cup shake with the tremor and reached out to take it from me.
Once it was in his hand I backed out of the room and practically fled down the hall.
Standing at my desk, taking in a ragged breath, I inwardly berated myself for being quite possibly the most uncool person to have ever worked in a tattoo studio.
* * *
Not even ten minutes later I had to find the nerve to face Cole again because he had a customer. I informed him of this with a warmer politeness than usual, and I could feel his curious gaze on my back as he followed me out into the reception area.
I buried my head in my work, sighing a huge sigh of relief when he returned to his workroom.
An hour later, my mind still mostly on the recent turn of events, I was more than taken aback when the front doorbell rang, signaling a customer, only for me to look up and be faced with Cole’s recent ex, Jessica.
She strode to the desk with her usual exuberance. “Hi, Shannon. Is Cole free?”
Confused, I shook my head. “He’s got a client.”
“I’ll just wait.”
“Um . . . okay . . .”
She smiled and planted her bottom on one of the leather couches and made the impression of someone who was settling in.
Cole had broken up with her . . . right?
For the next forty minutes I attempted to put my head into my work, but every now and then my eyes would lift to check on whether the young blonde was still there.
She was.
As I studied her I decided she was definitely all wrong for Cole. Too young, too bubbly and in your face, and much, much too blond.
Not that I was biased or anything.
Hearing Cole’s voice approaching, I waited curiously to see how this scene would unfold. Appearing in the main studio, Cole was too busy discussing aftercare with his customer to notice Jessica in the waiting area. He brought the guy over to me and while I smiled, I subtly nodded in Jessica’s direction.
Cole flicked his eyes over and was about to return them to me before he did a double take. His eyebrows immediately drew together.
Handing Cole’s customer his card back, I bade him good-bye, as did Cole, and waited for the gentleman to leave.
“She’s been waiting for you for the past forty minutes,” I told him under my breath.
Cole appeared frustrated. Exhaling, he wandered over to her, not even halfway to reaching her before she jumped up off the couch and dashed toward him. She threw her arms around him like a little girl and Cole staggered back, immediately gripping her elbows to gently push her away. “Jessica, what are you doing here?” he asked.
“We need to talk,” she said, batting her pretty eyes at him.
She was good. I’d give her that.
Apparently not good enough. “Jessica, we said all we had to say.”
“But I miss you.” She went into instant begging mode that raised my hackles. “I can do better, I promise.”
It took everything within me not to scream, “Have some self-respect!”
I was beginning to think that maybe, perhaps, more than possibly, Jessica was indeed every bit the cling-on Cole had accused her of being.
“Jessica, you don’t have to do anything.” Cole continued being nice, which I thought was decent of him considering most guys would have bounced her arse out of the door by now. “We’re just not right for each other, sweetheart.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “We are. I love you.”
My mouth fell open.
Yup. Total cling-on.
A red warning sign began blinking in my mind’s eye.
Cole seemed as stunned as I felt. “Jessica . . .”
The urge to rescue him overtook me. “Cole,” I called out. “Simon needs you in the back.”
His startled gaze flew to mine, relief in them. “Right, of course.” He turned to Jessica. “Look, this is a really bad time. I’m sorry if you got the wrong impression, but we’re just not . . . going to happen.”
When she continued to stare at him incredulously, I found myself slinking out from behind the desk and hurrying over to the front entrance. The bells tinkled as I yanked it open, drawing Jessica’s attention.
She caught my look, and her jaw hardened at the silent point I was making. With an overdone sniffle she hurried out of the studio, clutching her bag to her chest as though we’d just killed her puppy and refused to apologize.
I shut the door behind her and mouthed, Wow, at Cole before heading back behind my desk.
Cole cautiously approached me, his expression filled with suspicion. I returned his stare with an innocent one of my own.
“Thank you,” he said with not a tiny amount of wariness.
“You’re welcome,” I said, my tone kind.
He blinked rapidly and it was clear his suspicion had only increased.
Cole stared at me for a few seconds longer, but I managed to maintain perfect politeness.
Backing away slowly, Cole held my stare, silently questioning me with every step he took. He turned around, but then just before he stepped into the hallway he looked back at me, confused.
I gave him nothing and he disappeared into the hall. I broke out into a massive, amused grin, a grin I quickly hid when Cole’s head popped back around the door. The hilarious sight of his seemingly floating head was made only more entertaining by the distrust in his narrowed eyes. Schooling my features into innocent politeness, I endured a short staring match with Cole’s head before he gave up.
His head disappeared and I began to shake with silent laughter.
* * *
“You’re freaking me out a little bit,” Cole said the next morning as he took the coffee I offered him.
Although I quite enjoyed the fact that I had him feeling off balance, I gave him the speech I’d prepared for the moment he called me out on my unusual behavior. “I’ve decided you’re right. I’m sick of acting like a brat. I’m sorry for what I said. I don’t know you. It was uncalled for and unprofessional of me.”
Cole didn’t even try to hide his surprise, and I liked that about him. I was beginning to realize that Cole was pretty transparent. He didn’t play games like most people. He wore his mood on his sleeve for everyone to see, and most of the time his thoughts were out there too. “Wow. Did not see that coming.”
I grimaced, feeling unsure all of a sudden. I’d been holding on to Hannah’s assessment of Cole’s character, using it to assure myself that we’d move on like nothing had ever happened. “Does that mean you accept my apology?”
He stared at me a second and I think he did it to make me squirm. It worked. He finished off, however, with a nod. “Of course. Thanks for the coffee.”
His response was mature; it was what I thought I wanted, but I walked out of his room weighed down with disappointment. He’d accepted my apology with all the warmth of a wet bath towel.
Muttering under my breath, I berated myself. I did have only myself to blame if Cole wasn’t really feeling all that friendly toward the woman who completely annihilated his character without an ounce of proof to back up said annihilation.
“Making nice with the boss?”
I let out a startled squeak and spun around to find Rae mere inches from me. “Jesus!”
Rae laughed and pushed me gently down the hallway and into the main studio away from Cole’s ears.