“Family parties aren’t usually that eventful.” Cole opens the door to his Lexus for me. “Luckily my parents weren’t here to add to the drama.”

Stiff leather crunches under me as I sit. The door closes and I buckle my seatbelt. “It’s not a Ventimiglia family party without at least one drunken fist-fight. Last Christmas, my cousin William broke his arm fighting with his brother. He got pushed off a hayloft. Luckily the cow stalls had just been cleaned and there was a good cushion of bedding to land on or it could have been worse.”

Cole starts the car and turns to me. “You’re from an entirely different world. I don’t think I’ve ever been in a barn.”

“That is so weird to me. So weird.”

“Do you miss it?”

My mind flashes to my mom’s house and I get hit with memories from of my childhood. Good memories. Happy memories. Then he crosses my mind, tainting everything.

“No,” I say quickly. “Not at the moment, at least. You know that scene in Beauty and the Beast where Belle sings about wanting more out of life than the small town can offer? That’s pretty much how I feel. Except my town has cornfields instead of a pretty French countryside.”

“I do know that scene,” Cole says. “And that makes sense.”

I watch the streets of Brooklyn pass by. “It’s strange how boxed in I felt living there when I was surrounded by open fields. It’s hard to find a quiet spot here, yet I don’t feel trapped. There are so many people here that you just kinda blend in. There’s no blending in Salt Creek.”

Cole drums his fingers on the steering wheel. He seems a bit tense and didn’t talk to me that much as the party wound down. I chalked it up to the drama that went down with Lexi’s ex-husband. Stealing a glance at him only furthers my inability to get a good read on Cole. One minute he seems into me on a deeper level than just wanting to hook up. The next it’s like he can’t get away fast enough.

“Do you want to go back?” he asks after at least a mile has passed beneath us.

I inhale and shake my head. “I don’t know.” I thought leaving town would help, would ensure the safety of my family and friends and put my mind at ease. I thought being miles away would make him stop, would make him finally leave me the fuck alone.

But I guess I was wrong.

The smashed mailbox.

The creepy as fuck text.

My hand goes to my face, feeling the small trace of a scar left on my bottom lip. Easier felt than seen, I keep it covered up most of the time with a tinted lipgloss. No one has ever asked me about it, but I like to play it safe.

That’s not me at all.

I wasn’t always like this.

Pressing the start button on my coffeemaker before I put my mug in place is about as risky as I get nowadays, and I hate it. I didn’t just lose myself. He stole it.

And I don’t know how to get it back.

My jaw tenses and I play with a loose string on the hem of my shirt, staring intently out the window at nothing in particular.

“Are you okay?” Cole asks softly.

A fake smile pulls up my lips. It’s a habit. Smile and nod. Don’t let anyone know the pain I’m still harboring inside. The fear that keeps me awake at night. The guilt for wasting part of my life. The anger I still hold at myself for getting into the situation.

“Yeah.”

He takes his eyes off the road for a half-second. “Don’t be too convincing now.”

“Sorry. The thought of moving away is exciting but a little scary too. My hometown holds some good memories.” I don’t say how scared I am those memories are all I have left of myself. No. I blink, take a deep breath, and mentally affirm myself.

I just signed a book deal. I’m in New York City because of said book deal. I’m sleeping with my editor.

My eyes pop open. Okay, that last one…I look Cole up and down, feeling warmth growing inside me. There’s so much more to him than he lets on. I want to get to know him, to uncover his wounds and compare scars. Though I don’t know if he’d allow it.

“Even good change is hard,” Cole tells me. “Getting rid of a bad habit is hard, for example. You want to fall back into your routine, keep doing what you know. Even when it’s not good for you.”

“That’s so true. I never thought about it, but you’re right. Sometimes it is easier to keep doing what’s familiar, even when it’s bad for you, instead of breaking into the unknown.”

“Routine. Consistency. Knowing what kind of shit to expect is safer than not knowing what the fuck is going to happen.”

“To fear the unknown is to rob the spirit of knowledge. I read that in a fortune cookie once,” I say with a laugh. “But I’ve always liked it.”

“You know,” Cole starts. “I wouldn’t take you for a person who fears the unknown.”

His words bring a smile to my face and I feel like I’ve slipped back into my old self again. “Thanks. I like trying new things and pushing myself out of my comfort zone.”

“That’s something I don’t do very often,” he admits, stealing another glance at me. “I guess I’m a victim of routine.”

I think he’s a victim of something else, but I don’t dare say it. A broken heart, perhaps? Or maybe something deeper, like a betrayal. Something that made him become rigid in his routine that made him like to stay in control at all times.

We talk the rest of the way to the hotel, getting rather existential as we discuss life and the meaning behind it all. It’s easy to talk to Cole again, and we’re on the same wavelength for so many things.

Then he shuts down when we get to the hotel. He offers to walk me in, but doesn’t make a move for my hand, or even walk next to me. It’s like a completely different person exited the luxury car. He walks tensely behind me, looking around as if he’s afraid to be seen.

We step into the elevator—we’re the only ones there—and Cole grabs me by the waist, pushing me up against the wall. My heart thumps rapidly in my chest and my knees tremble. I wrap my arms around his neck and stare into his deep, dark eyes.

“Is this out of your comfort zone?” he growls, lips going to my neck. I gasp, feeling my pulse pound through my core. His teeth graze my skin and his warm tongue lashes out, reminding me how fucking good it felt to have his mouth between my legs.

I pull on his shirt, untucking it, and slip my hands underneath, taking in the warmth of his skin and the rippling muscles in his back. They flex as he lifts me up, spreading my legs around him and pushing my back into the side of the elevator. He grabs a fistful of my hair and brings my head back, exposing my neck, running his tongue up and down. I shiver and forget where we are.

I push Cole back and drop down to my knees, madly unbuckling his belt. Cole widens his stand and puts a hand on my head, looking down at me with so much lust in his eyes I can hardly stance it. His hard cock presses against the confines of his pants, begging to be touched. I put my hand over it, feeling the outline, body longing for that big cock to push inside me and fuck me into oblivion. I pull the zipper down and the elevator dings. Cole pulls me to my feet and we stand close together, covering up his undone pants.

“Oh, this is my floor already,” I pant. Cole takes my hand and steps off. “This way.” I lead him down the hall, stopping in front of my door to dig the keycard out of my purse. In my haste, I can’t get it to work.

I try again.

And again.

Cole takes the card and tries.

The door won’t fucking open.

“Something’s not right with the card,” he says, shaking his head. I flip the thing over and look at the strip. Everything looks fine.

“I don’t get it. It worked before the party.”

Cole zips his pants up and sighs. “We have to go downstairs and find out what’s going on with it.”

“Want to find a broom closet first?”

He laughs and pulls me to him. “That’s tempting. But what I want to do to you requires more space than that.”

Fuck, this man. Though I expect no less from Cole Winchester. I lean up and kiss him, feeling butterflies take flight the moment our lips touch. Cole breaks apart.

“I can’t keep kissing you like this or we’re going to have a problem. Fucking you on the floor in the hallway is probably frowned upon.”

“Most likely.”

He takes another lingering look at me, then turns to go back downstairs. After only a minute of talking with the concierge, we’re aware of the problem. The hotel fucked up and double-booked my room, moving my check-out day up. According to their computer, I’m late to checkout, which is why the keycard stopped working.

“I don’t like confrontation,” I whisper to Cole as the girl behind the counter calls her manager. “And it’s easy to make a mistake. She’s freaking out over this. I can take another room.”

Cole looks at me and then to the concierge—who’s pale-faced and shaking, afraid of getting in trouble for the mistake she didn’t do—and then back at me.

“Stay with me,” he offers. “If you want to, of course.”

“I do.” I have the feeling I’d be staying the night with Cole one way or another. He tells the girl not to worry about the room and gets a new key to use so I can get my stuff. We get back in the elevator, though this time we’re not alone. Cole takes my hand and brings it in front of him. My fingers brush against his semi-hard dick. He looks at me out of the corner of his eye and smirks.

I bite my lip and step closer, impatiently watching the numbers go up as we ride to my floor. The key works without a hitch this time, and the second we step into the room, Cole and I tangle up in each other’s arms.

“How much time do we have?” I ask between kisses.

Cole flicks the bar lock at the top of the door. “As much as we need.”

* * *

It’s dark when we leave the hotel. Fog hangs over the city, wispy tendrils spiraling down in front of me as I walk along the sidewalk, blanketing me in sticky humidity. We’ve just arrived at Cole’s house, and he’s retrieving my suitcase from the trunk of his car.

I get out of the car, grit and loose cement crunching under my feet as I step onto the sidewalk. There aren’t as many people walking about in the nasty weather. I wrap my arm around myself as the damp air sets in and gives me a chill.

“Ana,” someone calls from down the street, and it’s like someone slides an ice cube down my spine. I tense, not moving. Forgetting to breathe. Shaking. Scared.

Weak.

Defenseless.

“No,” I say to the darkness. “I’m not defenseless.” He wanted me to think I was. Spent years making me believe it was so.

“I’ve been looking for you,” the man calls, voice drowned out by a passing car. My heart speeds up, thumping painfully in my chest. It’s not him. It can’t be. There is no way he found me.

My palms sweat.

Ears ring.

I want to scream and run away.

“Ana?” Cole asks, hand landing on my shoulder, making me jump. “Is everything all right?”

I whirl around and turn my face up to him, taking solace in his deep, dark eyes. “Yeah,” I force out, pushing back the tears that are threatening to form. A group of people walks down the sidewalk on the other side of the street. That’s whom I heard. No one was talking to me. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine.” He says each word slowly, a little afraid of offending me, but with his concern overriding. Cole edges closer. I can smell his cologne, feel the heat of his skin. The memory of his naked body on top of mine—hot, sweaty, commanding—sears into my brain and brings me comfort. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

My lashes come together and everything I’ve been desperately holding onto falls apart at my feet, turning into smoke and dissipating into the fog.

“No.”

Cole sets my suitcase down and wraps me in his arms. I let out a breath, head resting on his chest. Wrapped in Cole’s strong arms, the fear starts to leave me. Right here in his tight embrace is all I need.

I feel safe.

“I’m fine, really,” I insist.

“Friday night,” he starts, “when we ran into each other, you seemed pretty damn freaked out. Kinda like this.”

I swallow hard and shake my head. “I have an over-active imagination.” Technically, that’s true. Yet it still feels like a lie. But I don’t want to open up, to rip my chest open and lay my heart out on the table. It’s battered and bruised and seeping crimson blood. It’s far from pretty. Even farther from desirable. “It makes me get scared easily sometimes.”

Cole doesn’t look convinced. Instead of pushing the issue, he brushes my hair out of my face and kisses me. Softly. Tenderly. Making me want him all over again, even though I’m a little sore from the epic fuck we had against the hotel room door.

I close my eyes and relinquish the anxiety, leaning on Cole. I want him physically for obvious reasons. The man knows his way around my body, that’s for sure. But I want him more than that. Even though I tried hard not to, I’m starting to have feelings for Cole.

Real feelings.

Deep feelings.

Confusing as fuck feelings. Because I know what I want. I might not admit it to myself, but I know it, and the dream creeps into my mind at night when I’m lying there, vulnerable to my thoughts as I try to drift off to sleep.

What I want is there, buried under a thin layer of sub-consciousness. But Cole…I don’t know what he wants.

He’s like the ocean, pulling me in and then pushing me out. I want to surrender to the current, to let him take me out to sea and feel the waves all around me, floating in cool water with the sun on my face.

But I don’t want to drown.

“Let’s go in,” he says gently and pulls away. “Are you hungry? I can order takeout.”

“Nine out of ten times I am going to answer ‘yes’ when someone asks me if I’m hungry.” I grab my computer case from inside the car. “Can we get Chinese takeout? In like every movie set in New York City, people order it.”

Cole picks up my suitcase as if it weighs nothing. “We can’t have you missing out on the full Big Apple experience now, can we?”

“Glad you understand.”

“I have to say, I’ve never seen a Captain America suitcase before,” Cole muses, looking at my luggage.

“I’m a bit of a comic book hero fan.” I wrinkle my nose as I talk. “I am named after one after all.”

“Diana…Wonder Woman.”

“I’m impressed you know that. Everyone and their mother know the Avengers, but my Diana is forgotten.”

“It’s weird,” Cole says. “She’s badass and always depicted by an attractive actress, yet she’s often an afterthought.”

“Don’t get me started. I can rant and rave about the sexism of pop culture all day.”

We pause, letting a car go by, and then cross the street. “So, your parents must be big superhero fans to name you after Wonder Woman then.”

“My dad was,” I tell Cole. I spin around, subconsciously doing my checks. Fishing my keys out of my purse and stopping at the door to unlock it scared me. I’m not the one doing the unlocking, but it’s a habit. Having my back turned leaves me feeling open to an attack.

Dammit.

He’s not here. He couldn’t have found me. But the text…and the mailbox…

“Go ahead.” Cole opens the door. He shuts off the alarm with his phone and comes in right after me, setting my suitcase down in the foyer. The darkness creeps in around me, and I feel like we’re not alone.

I’d rather it be the ghost of the murder victims coming up from the basement. I’ve seen every episode of Supernatural. As long as I get some salt and that iron fire poker from the living room, we’ll survive until Sam and Dean come to rescue us.

I turn to Cole. He has a younger brother. And their last name is Winchester. Maybe that’s why he’s so guarded. He and Luke secretly fight demonic crime at night. Hah, if only. I close my eyes and get a flash of blood slowly dripping into a white, marble sink.

My blood.

Inhale. Hold it. Exhale.

“Do you care if I shower?” I blurt. I need a moment alone to collect myself.

“Not at all. I’ll take your things up. You can use the bathroom off the master if you’d like.”

“That’s fine,” I say, remembering the large glass and tile shower. Whoever did the upgrades in this place kept up the standard of luxury. “Thanks.” We go up the stairs and I wonder if Cole is hoping I’ll invite him to shower with me. I don’t want him to, but I want him to want to…which is a weird mess to want, I know.

He sets my suitcase on the fabric bench at the foot of the bed and goes downstairs to order food. I flip open my suitcase and grab my shower stuff. I start to dig through for my PJs and hesitate. I’m staying with Cole out of convenience, yet he put my stuff in his room. We’ve had sex several times, so sleeping in the same room makes sense, and I’m sure he’s hoping to get busy again before the night is through.

Is that all he wants? He’s so hard to read. It’s like I’ve just opened the cover and all the pages are written in invisible ink. I grab a tank top and pajama pants and get in the shower, doing my best to relax. I fly home tomorrow evening. I can go back to worrying and stressing then. Right now, I just want to be me.

After showering, I get dressed and towel dry my long hair the best I can before putting it in a loose braid. I get down the main stairs, expecting to see Cole in the formal living room at the front of the house. The room is dark. I follow the sound of a TV through the large house, finding Cole in another living room. This one isn’t as fancy, and has a large TV mounted on the wall.

He turns the moment I walk into the room and smiles. Cartons of Chinese takeout are on the coffee table. My stomach grumbles. I ate my weight in pasta and cake at Lexi’s house not all that long ago. I must have burned it all off fucking Cole.

“You really like pineapple, don’t you?” Cole asks, smile still playing on his full lips as I sit on the couch next to him. He hands me a plate.

Oh, right. My pajama pants are black with little yellow pineapples printed all over. “I do. They taste good, first of all, and I like what they represent.”

“Pineapples represent something?”

“Yeah. Have you seen a pineapple? They’re big, tall, and totally ostentatious. Pineapples give no fucks. They’re totally over the top as far as fruit goes. They’re tough on the outside, sweet in the middle, and have that fancy stem-thing that looks like a crown. Be a pineapple, Cole, and your life will be infinitely better.”

He laughs and dishes fried rice onto his plate. “I’ve never thought that much into pineapples before.”

I reach for an eggroll then look at Cole. “I guess it’s sort of silly, but it’s something I like to remind myself of. You can be tough and protect yourself without losing who you are inside.”

He drops my gaze, smile fading. A beat passes before he says anything. “That’s a rather deep sentiment to get from a piece of fruit.” The smile is back but his dark eyes still hold the same emotion I saw the first time we met. What happened to him?

“Is there anything in particular you want to watch?” he asks me.

“Not really. Want to see what movies are on?”

We search through Netflix, settle on a comedy, and eat. Cole puts his arm around me and we cuddle when we’re done eating. Things feel so right and I’m so fucking comfortable. This is not helping the what the hell is going on between us vibe I can’t decipher. Asking Cole would get me the answer, but I can’t do that. It’s too easy and takes the fun out of the constant state of angst I’m feeling.

I’m so logical sometimes I scare myself.

A text comes through, dinging from the iWatch on Cole’s wrist. “Lexi wants to know if we want to meet her for lunch tomorrow,” he reads. “Their dog chewed the foot off Paige’s new doll so she’ll be in the city to get it replaced.”

“Oh, that’d be great.”

“And speaking of tomorrow…” he reaches forward to grab his phone, able to reply faster that way than with the watch. “I leave early. You don’t have to get up and go in with me. You don’t have to be there until eleven.”

“How early is early?”

“I get there around seven.”

I recoil at the word. “Yeah, way too early for me.”

He chuckles and plays with the end of my braid, slowly wrapping it around his fingers. My head is resting on his chest and I have his other hand clasped in mine. “You’re welcome to stay here. My housekeeper comes around ten, so you can leave and not worry about locking the doors or anything.”

He says it so casually like it’s not a big deal. Though on this street, I bet it’s not. It’d probably be a big deal to not have a housekeeper. “Oh, uh, okay.”

“And also, about tomorrow,” he says and I turn, looking into his eyes. He looks away. “When we’re at the office we have to not act like we’re….we’re…that me and you, uh, we…”

“Don’t tell people we’re sleeping together?”

“Yeah. That.” He gives a tight smile and I know the subject is making him uncomfortable.

“Don’t worry. I’m not a kiss-and-tell kind of person.”

“Thanks.” He kisses my neck and relaxes, wrapping both arms around my waist.

It’s weird how fast things can change. Words put together into sentences. Sentences turn into questions. And the answers spoken can change everything in just seconds.

I’ve been told there are no such things as magic words, but I beg to differ. Things said, words uttered in anger, in passion, in fear or uncertainty can be as beautiful as a love spell or as dangerous as a curse. And right now, I’m not sure what I’ve been hit with.

Cole mentioned before the two of us together wouldn’t look professional. But he didn’t say he’d get in trouble, didn’t say I’d lose my publishing deal. If it wasn’t so obvious I’d double check with my agent, but I’m certain there’s nothing in my contract that says outright I can’t have a personal relationship with a Black Ink employee.

My mind flashes to the future—a scary place I try to avoid—and I wonder what would happen if Cole and I continued this thing we have going on. Would I have to hide it? I like Lexi, and Luke seems like a really nice guy. I don’t want to lie to them. I don’t want to lie to anyone.

And I don’t want to live with secrets. Not anymore. I’m done being ashamed, done hating myself. The glue is still wet, and the broken pieces of my heart can slip and fall out of place. Getting involved with someone who doesn’t want to let the world know we’re together isn’t something I should do right now.

But I’ve never been good at doing what I should do. Self-destruction is my strong suit.

“What time should I leave the house?” I ask, needing to fill the silence. I can’t pretend what was spoken isn’t nagging at me in the worst way possible, but I can’t keep sitting here thinking about it either.

“Ten-thirty,” he says. “It won’t take that long, well typically it doesn’t barring traffic, but that’ll give you time to come in and get settled.”

“Okay.”

A few beats of silence pass between us. “Want a drink?” Cole asks, and I wonder if he’s feeling the same awkwardness I am. Because the whole I-want-to-have-sex-with-you-but-not-tell-anyone thing is really fucking awkward right now.

“Yes, please.”

We go into the kitchen and Cole uncorks a bottle of red wine. I take my glass and sit at the island counter, looking around and admiring the large house all over again. I down half my glass and reach for the bottle, topping it off. I tap my fingers on the cool stone countertops.

“What do you do all day?” I ask. “In movies, editors are depicted on one end of the spectrum or the other. So, you’re either running around crazy or sitting in a quiet office reading.”

Cole laughs. “I’m more towards the first end, I suppose. I oversee the other editors and am on the phone a lot. Or answering emails.” He tells me more about his day, which seems a little boring, to be honest.

“Is this what you’ve always wanted to do?”

“Yes,” he says and his eyes meet mine. I don’t know how, but I know he’s lying. And I have no idea why. “I’ve always liked books and reading. I was a pretty shy kid growing up, and had an asshole for a dad who liked to take his anger out on me. Going into my room and quietly reading was a good way for him to forget about me.”

“That’s so sad.”

Cole shrugs. “It was a long time ago. Did you always want to be an author?”

“It wasn’t even on my radar, but only because I didn’t think I’d ever be good enough. I made a bucket list when I was in seventh grade and ‘write a book’ was number one on that list, which I still have, by the way.”

Cole smiles, eyes lighting up in the way that I love. “What else is on that list?”

“Oh, gosh, I don’t remember. Okay, I do. But a lot of it is embarrassing.”

He leans forward on the counter. “Now I need to know.”

“I think audition for MTV’s Real World was on there.”

“You think?”

“Fine. It’s there. Number two on the list, if you will. I used to think that show was cool.”

Cole laughs. “Luke used to watch that. It’s the show of oppressed douchebags.”

“Oh my God,” I say with a snort of laugher, leaning back. “I agree with you now. But as a preteen in a small town, that show was the shit.”

“Is it even on anymore?”

“I think so. Or it made a comeback or something. I don’t really know. I just watch Netflix and HGTV now.”

Cole finishes his wine. “I like Chip and Joanna Gaines and their Fixer Upper show,” he admits. “I’ve never told that to anyone before.”

I smile, eyeing this gorgeous man in front of me. The embarrassment on his face is adorable. It’s not there often, that’s for sure. The Cole the world knows is professional. A bit uptight. Put together at all times. Maybe it’s the wine, but I’m starting to feel rather lucky for being able to see this side of him.

“Me too! I sometimes want to move to Texas and buy a fixer-upper house just so they can do the renovations.”

“I could never part with this place,” Cole says. “But I’ve thought about a summer home.”

“You’d totally fan-girl over Joanna, wouldn’t you?”

Cole shakes his head. “No. Over Chip.” He refills our wine and sits next to me, thigh brushing against mine. I take a minute to look him over and realize that no matter what, for the time being at least, I’ve made a really good friend.