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“Seriously?”
“Yep. Ripped that silver spoon right out of my mouth.” I held up the disposable cup of ice cream. “Been dining on plastic ever since.”
He chuckled. “You, Birdie Melrose, are funny.”
What was really funny was the way my body reacted to the sound of my name on his lips.
“Why didn’t your parents pay for a maid? Wasn’t allow in the dorm room?”
I gave a wry smile, shaking my head. “Not exactly. When I told them I was going to college—with a plan to work in a school—they were disappointed. To say the least. They cut me off and said my trust fund would be waiting for me when I changed my mind. And well... you saw where I work.”
“Wow,” Cohen said. “That must have been hard.”
“Not as hard as living someone else’s life,” I said, taking a final sip from my cup. “Empty.”
“Let me take it—I’ll throw them away,” Cohen offered. He took my cup and got out of the car, walking toward a trash can near the drive-through. And man, the way he walked away...
He got back in and started the car. “Since it’s our first not-date, I should probably take you home.”
Why did the sentence make me so sad? Instead of thinking on it, I nodded and said, “Probably.” I sobered as we drove a little farther down the road, back toward View House where my car waited. “That was a close one, with the headmaster.”
Cohen frowned and nodded. “Maybe it would be better to meet somewhere more private.”
“For what?” I asked. “We can’t date.” The three words hit me in the chest as I realized how much I wanted to continue getting to know this amazing specimen of a man. I was pretty sure I liked him more than Dax already, and that was a terrifying thought for someone who was completely off limits. Especially so soon after my last relationship. Maybe it was better to get some space—to guard my heart.
He was quiet as he slowed and turned into the lot, stopping next to my car. He put his own vehicle in park and turned to me. “Tell me you don’t want to see me. Tell me you’re not having just as much fun as I am. Tell me”—he hesitated and reached to brush a strand of hair behind my ear, sending shivers over my skin—“tell me you don’t want to kiss me as much as I want to kiss you.”
My eyes landed on his mouth, on his full lips and the slight cleft in his chin with a dusting of shadow. “I...can’t.”
I couldn’t be honest with him. The truth was, each second that passed made me want to kiss him even more. He was funny, kind, attentive, easy to talk to...everything I wanted in a man but didn’t dare dream I could have.
“You can’t kiss me, or you can’t tell me you want to kiss me too?” he asked.
“Both,” I answered, then I opened the door and got out of the car.
23
Cohen
The guys and I sat around a table in the bar Saturday morning after the staff had cleaned up from the night before. Yeah, it was a weird time to drink beer and play cards, but Steve’s wife did yoga and drank mimosas Sunday mornings, so how weird was it really?
Until my house sold, we decided mornings were best. We had the all-clear to bullshit as loud and as long as we wanted to.
Chris frowned at his cards and said, “Fold.”
Steve folded too, leaving it between my accountant and me. Despite making good money and having a lot of high-paying clients, Jonas was down to earth and didn’t bid us out of the competition.
He eyed his cards, then me. “I’ll raise you ten.”
Jonas didn’t know I had a flush in my hands. “I’ll take your ten and raise you twenty more.”
Jonas swore. “Fuck, I’m in.” He shoved a big portion of his chips to the middle of the table and said, “Let’s see what you have.”
Everyone leaned in as I flipped my cards over, revealing the set of spades.
The other two laughed, but Jonas let another swear fly as he showed me his hand with three tens, an ace and a two.
“Lucky son of a bitch,” Steve said, laughing.