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“Which diner?” he asked.
“Waldo’s Diner. It’s on the east side of Emerson.”
“I know the place.” He uncorked the bottle of wine and began pouring it in my glass. “So your grandpa is the famous Waldo?”
I chuckled. “Actually, his name is Chester. He bought it from Waldo, but he doesn’t really tell anyone he owns it. He likes to keep a low profile.”
“We’ll have to go there sometime,” he said. “I used to take Ollie there for milkshakes all the time.”
The idea of Cohen taking a small, curly-haired Ollie for milkshakes warmed my heart from the inside out. “I’d love that.”
“Me too. And it would be nice to talk to another restaurant owner. I bet he’d have some good advice for me.”
I imagined Cohen sitting across from my grandpa, and my heart felt full enough to burst. “I think he’d like that.” Grandpa had never liked Dax, but I already knew he would fall for down-to-earth Cohen just as quickly as I had.
“Well, now that I know I have some competition, I’m a little more nervous to serve you dinner,” he said with an adorable grin.
I giggled and took a sip of my wine. “I’m sure it will be amazing.”
He drank from his own wine glass. “Here’s to hoping. How was your day?”
Sitting at the counter, sipping on wine while he cooked, I told him about my week, and it all felt soright. I could imagine us doing this every night. Which was maybe why Cohen was so dangerous. Why he never would or could be just a rebound for me.
The timer on his stove went off, and he retrieved a pan of garlic bread that made my mouth water just from the smell.
Once it was on pads on the counter, he began dishing plates with pasta, sauce, and salad, then carried both of them to the table. “Want to get the drinks?” he asked.
“Of course,” I said, topping off our glasses before following him. “It looks amazing, Cohen.”
He grinned. “I hope it’s Birdie-approved.”
The first bite told me it was more than approved. We sat at the table and ate together, just enjoying one another’s company. I couldn’t believe I’d ever thought of following the school’s rule and passing on a chance with Cohen Bardot. We could figure out the details, but not a missed opportunity.
His smile alone was enough to make the risk worth it.
But then he ran his fingers over the bare skin of my thigh, and I knew without a doubt how worth it this was.
I glanced into his eyes, cautious, curious, and found heat within the green depths.
His gaze flicked from my eyes to my lips, and my breath caught. He wanted to kiss me; I wanted that and more.
Slowly, I leaned in, and his fingers lifted my chin, bringing my lips to meet his.
I melted into him, letting the heat of his breath and my attraction to him wash over me.
As we kissed, his fingers trailed down my chin, down my neck, to my cleavage. My nipples peaked, familiar with his touch, begging to feel it again.
“Come to my room,” he breathed against my lips, his voice husky. “I want to be able to fuck you the right way.”
My chest heaved at his words, and I stood, all parts of my body forgotten except for the heat between my thighs and the tenderness of my breasts.
He walked behind me toward his bedroom, pulling down on my dress sleeve to nip at the bare skin of my shoulder.
I shivered as I reached his room and turned to flick the lights off.
He stopped, breaking from me, and flicked them back on. “I want to see you, Birdie Melrose. Every single inch.”
Even in my dress, I felt more exposed than ever before. Did he really want to seeeverythingin the light?