Page 30 of Blush Crush

He drops down onto the empty spot beside me on the bench, his shoulder brushing mine. The scent of him hits me instantly—spicy, a little sweet, and something that’s distinctly him. It’s distracting in a way I don’t appreciate.

“Did you follow me out here?” I can’t help but ask, the ghost of a grin threatening to break free.

I’m sure there are plenty of women he’d follow out here. I definitely don’t fall into that category.

He chuckles, using his pointer finger and thumb to rub between his brows. “Follow you?” he repeats, amusementtugging at the corner of his mouth. “I’m not that creepy. I just saw someone I didn’t feel like running into, so I bolted for the first door I could find.”

I snicker, bumping my shoulder lightly against his. “Who’d you piss off? One of your monthly flavors?”

Cole lets out a low chuckle, leaning back and stretching his long legs out in front of him. The toe of his shoe taps idly against the concrete.

Being short, I tend to forget how much taller most of the population is compared to me. It’s not until I’m right up next to someone that the size difference becomes obvious. As a curvier girl, I rarely feel small, but next to Cole I do.

Even sitting beside him on this bench, he somehow takes up more space. His shoulders are broad, his thighs long enough that his knees stretch farther than mine. When he leans back, one arm drapes along the back of the bench behind me. He manages to angle himself in a way that leaves me tucked into the space beside him.

“See, you say that like you assume it’s my fault.” He looks sideways at me, one brow lifting. “Maybe she’s the one who ended things with me.”

I turn my head slowly, giving him a long, drawn-out once-over. “Well, was she?”

He scratches the back of his neck, looking mildly offended. “Kind of.”

My nose wrinkles to disguise the laugh wanting to crawl out at his expense. “What does that even mean?”

“It means I started to end things with her.” He holds up a finger like he’s making a very important point. “And then she finished it for me.” He shrugs, looking equal parts defeated and mystified. “I basically got dumped.”

The laugh I was holding escapes me before I can stop it. “Oh my, Cole Benton got dumped.” I tap a hand over my heart. “Must’ve been traumatizing.”

“It was,” he says solemnly, though the corner of his mouth twitches. He slides a hand through his hair like it’s a nervous tic. “I’m a very fragile man.”

“Clearly.”

Shifting my weight on the bench, I tuck one leg underneath me as I study him.

“So where’s fancy pants tonight?” he asks, staring straight ahead.

My head tilts, wondering if I heard him correctly. “Who?”

He waves a lazy hand in the air. “The poetry prick you were eye-fucking.”

I giggle and hiccup at once, the alcohol finally catching up with me. “His name is Wes.”

He picks at a loose thread on the seam of his jeans, brow raised like he’s waiting for me to continue.

“And I have no idea what he’s up to,” I add after a beat of silence. “I haven’t seen him since he came to the winery on a date.”

Cole straightens, the movement quick enough that his knees knock against me.

“Wait.” He turns toward me. “As in he came to Ledger?”

“Yeah.” I nod. “I was working the tasting room and he was there with a woman. And of course she was beautiful and blonde and skinny and perfect.”

“Was this last Sunday?” he asks slowly.

“Yeah.” I spare a glance at him, feeling slightly exposed. “Why?”

“Is that why you were crying?”

My head jerks in his direction, eyes round and bulging. “How did you know I was crying?”