Page 69 of Blush Crush

“How am I making it weird?” He grins. “Can a guy not be in a good mood?”

I’m about to say something snarky, but the words evaporate into thin air when he casually places a kiss on my forehead as he passes through the entryway, the scent of his cologne leaving me momentarily delirious.

Affection from a man is not something I’m used to.

“Just practicing,” he muses. “We are going to have to look like a couple in front of your siblings.”

Right.

This is such a bad idea. I’ve never had a guy to introduce to my family. Will they even buy it?

My gaze shifts over to Cole, who looks so male and imposing surrounded by all the pink and floral decor in my place.

He’s dressed in dark jeans, a cream knit sweater, and a brown coat, as if he stepped straight out of an ad. I’m in amatching lounge set and fuzzy clogs. We could not look more different if we tried.

His eyes drop to my oversized suitcase, bursting at the seams. “That all you’re bringing?”

“I’m an over-packer,” I defend.

“It’s only one night, right?”

“Yeah.” I sling my purse over my shoulder, trying to avoid eye contact. I grab my pink peacoat and matching knit hat from the hook by the door and tuck them under my arm, using the small task as an excuse to not look directly at him.

He talked me through an orgasm just a few hours ago. I’m not sure how I’m expected to act normal now.

He grabs the suitcase with ease as I lock up, and together we head for his truck.

“You look nice, by the way.” His eyes linger on my breasts, where I intentionally left the top two buttons undone.

I couldn’t be the only one flustered for the two-hour drive ahead, and I know Cole well enough to know he’s a boob guy.

I regret nothing.

He glances back over his shoulder after loading my suitcase in the back seat. “Ready?”

“I guess so.” I shrug, my confidence waning the more I think about it.

The first ten minutes of the drive are fine. Quiet but not uncomfortable. Cole puts on music and I feel myself relax a little into my seat. I assumed after ourX-ratedphone conversation the tension would be unbearable. Instead it’s not…terrible, like we’re both aware a big step was made but we’re still us. There’s something comforting in that. It gives me hope that maybe when this is all over, we’ll still be able to interact without it being too awkward.

But as easy as it is to share this enclosed space with Cole, my body is still all too aware of his proximity. My brain recalling every filthy thing he said in vivid, specific detail.

My face starts to warm when I remember he called mebaby. I don’t think a man has ever called me that before. I thought I’d hate it, given how cliché it is, but I guess it’s a classic for a reason. And hearing it in Cole’s low timbre was the start of the slow unraveling of my body giving into him.

I turn toward the window so he won’t notice the flush that’s overtaken my face.

“You okay over there?” Cole asks.

“I’m good,” I croak out.

From my peripheral vision I see his mouth twist. He doesn’t say anything even though he clearly wants to. For whatever reason he’s holding back.

“If you’re going to say something just say it.”

He glances at me, then back at the road. “You’re obviously having some feelings about the phone call. What can I do? How can I make you feel better about what happened? Are you regretting it?”

Any hint of teasing I would’ve expected is nowhere to be found. He seems genuinely worried about me. When our eyes connect, the concern veiling his face causes my heart to oddly race.

There’s this image of Cole that’s existed in my head for a long time. Playboy. Shallow. Callous. Unserious. Discovering the layers beyond that has been confusing. Unsettling, even.