Page 40 of About Yesterday (Foothills #5)

Trace released a heavy sigh and nodded. “And what if I fall for him and… and… and he… I know he’s not going to be happy with a boring existence in Foothills. Look at him sit sometime. His knee doesn’t stop moving. He literally can’t sit still.”

Haley threw her arms around her, and Freya came in from the other side, and they hugged her like a sandwich. Haley murmured against her hair. “You’re freaking out. Just breathe. It’s been four hours.”

Air filled her chest and wouldn’t release, spiraling and spinning until she wanted to pass out.

Freya whispered sweetly, “Don’t think, just exist. You and Cole and wherever the road takes you. If he leaves, he leaves, and you cross that bridge when you come to it. But right now, there are some serious pheromones surging between you two, and I really, really like the way he looks at you.”

Haley pulled back to see her face. “Not many people see past your happy face. He sees you, maybe better than anyone. Give him a chance.”

Freya pulled away and dropped a considering scowl.

“This journey of yours, to be who you want to be? That’s part of you, too.

There is no finished project. No painting is really ever done, and my style is constantly evolving.

You’ll never be finished becoming yourself.

He’s working on him, too. It would be nice to evolve together. ”

Watery stuff blurred her smile, and Trace felt the little knife that had been digging into her scapula begin to ease. “I like that.”

Devious seeped into Freya’s expression, and she sashayed across the shop, waving the others along. She plucked up an extraordinarily skimpy pink silk thing and handed it over.

Trace laughed as she took it, unsure which direction was even up. “Lovely, but I wouldn’t even know how to put this on.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Freya said knowingly. “It’ll go nicely under the dress you’re going to wear to the wedding, so you can quickly slip that dress off and voilà .”

“Asher and Sophie said it was casual so I was going to wear jeans with my boots and maybe my new pink sweater.” She winked at Haley and held up the low backed sweater she had yet to try on.

“No, go with the green dress. Trust me. And if you’re not ready for this pink thing, you can save this for when you need to feel spicy, sweet, and daring.”

“I’ll go try this stuff on.”

In the privacy of the dressing room, she sat on the cushioned stool and pulled out her phone. There was no way she could keep this from her parents. She texted her mom, skipping past the formalities. I kissed Cole .

While she waited for the response, she stripped out of her clothes.

?!?!?! Did he kiss you back?

Yes.

When?

This morning. Then at every opportunity since.

No response yet. Trace rearranged the skimpy pink thing several times, finally thinking she found the leg holes. Made of the softest, airy pink silk blend, it might not be terribly uncomfortable. Soft and a little stretchy, anyway.

So… are you two… together? I’m fine with that. Great, actually. But you sound hesitant.

She snorted a laugh and paused with the getup halfway up her legs. It’s a text, you can’t hear me.

Ha. You know what I mean.

I don’t know if it’s a thing yet and I didn’t want you to be surprised, so I’m telling you. But pretend you don’t know anything . Because I don’t even know what to think, and I’m not ready to think.

She hiked up the getup and slid her arms in. Hmm. For a thing without under-wires or much fabric in the boob area, it did pull the girls together nicely.

Have you had sex?

Oh boy. Some kids got “the talk” around pubertal onset.

It had never been a secret in her house, nor had it been a taboo subject, but it also had not been widely advertised or discussed in detail.

At that, the ship had sailed into deep water before her parents realized they’d better make sure she was prepared.

Trace looked at her reflection, eyes wide as she realized the boobs weren’t the most daring part of the pink thing.

With her panties on, as she hadn’t paid for it yet, she hadn’t initially realized until she looked closer…

why did they even sell stuff without a crotch in it?

Like, wasn’t that the point? Well, she knew what the point was, but…

She silenced a squeak and quickly pushed her way out of the getup. Safely out of the contraption that would give her mother a heart attack, she texted back, Not yet . ‘Yet’ being the key word.

I’d say don’t break his heart, but I don’t want yours broken either. Or your dad’s or mine! Be careful. He’s a nice boy.

Trace went to hang the getup back on the hanger, then glared down at the soft fabric draping over her hand. Careful. Safe. She hadn’t been careful or safe this morning, and no one had ever kissed her like that. She’d never kissed anyone like that.

She got back into her own clothes, grabbed her favorites from the try-on pile without trying them on and strolled out.

Freya lifted an eyebrow, waiting.

“I figured it out,” she said with an impish grin, waggled her eyebrows a few times, and headed to the checkout.

T he others waved Cole over as they headed out for a walk on the beach. He waved them off and watched them walk away. Hands stuffed in his pockets, he turned and crossed the street.

He ducked into a coffee shop that overlooked the same parking lot as the restaurant. Cute place. Steel rebar and beams, raw wood coated in lacquer. Saturated with northwest vibes.

The cashier was friendly to the crowd seeking the caffeine hit as the sky darkened after its brief reprieve. He watched. Listened. Benign chatter.

When he reached the front of the line, he ordered an americano in a to-go cup. Instead of calling for Cole, the barista called the name he’d given her. The name he’d gone by when he’d last seen that face. Well, the face he thought he’d seen across the parking lot.

Probably paranoia.

“Extra hot americano for… Antoine?” He nodded and took the cup, thanking her with a French lilt to his voice.

No one seemed particularly interested, so that was a plus. He insulated the barely sub-boiling brew with another cup, a sleeve, and shoved a plug into the lid. Holding it carefully, he walked into the drizzle of the late morning.

The game was simple. And he didn’t have the time for the full match. Skipping past the preamble, the dancing around and watching each other, he wandered toward the last place he’d seen the guy. No one there. Not surprising.

If he was plotting an ambush, he’d lure his target someplace isolated. No cameras. No witnesses. Plenty of shadows. One exit.

There. Not exactly a metropolis, but the hotel down the way had a two-story parking garage. A tall shadow caught his eye, and quickly disappeared. The baseball cap was hung on a concrete post.

He cradled the coffee as he casually wandered.

Just shy of whistling a jaunty tune, he walked like the other tourists. As if heading to his car.

Saving his energy, he sauntered up the ramp toward the second story. No elevator. No cameras. Simple. Perfect.

It didn’t take long. He leaned against a rail in the center, one hand warming in his pocket, the other on the coffee. He switched hands periodically to avoid burns from the hot cup.

Footsteps jogged up the ramp. Could be anyone.

Fuck. He wasn’t just paranoid. Cole swallowed the cuss, masked his fury, and smiled like they were old pals. Close enough, anyway.

As Guillaume neared, Cole said, “Fancy seeing you here. Amazing coincidence.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Guillaume’s voice was harsh, garbled.

Cole didn’t hide the smirk, knowing he’d done that. “Why Guillaume, you sound… hoarse.”

“Fuck you.” Guillaume didn’t mess around, getting right to the point.

Under the loose sweatshirt, Cole knew there were arms that could crush a walnut with his bicep and a fist that could shatter a brick. The concussion still blurred his mind when he watched a movie or played on his phone for too long.

Guillaume’s raspy voice rattled as he stalked close, fists clenched and ready to knock him out. Again. “You have two choices. I kill you now, and we make headlines in this sweet little town. Or, you come quietly with me.”

“Come on,” Cole said, choking on a breath and shaking his head. “If you’re looking for an eye for an eye, we’ve nailed that. No vengeance due.”

“I am satisfied with my revenge, but it is my employer who would like a word with you.”

“I’m out of the game. Quit. As civilian as it gets.

My employer has my complete reports, and they can choose to use those however the fuck they want.

Honestly, I’m surprised you’re not all fighting extradition right now.

If you’re looking to silence me, it’s too late.

Debriefing done, reports filed. I have no secrets anymore. Go after my employer.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Of course it is. I was a tool, just as you are. I’m out. I don’t give a fuck about your boss or her secrets, and there is nothing she could possibly want from me.”

“As you say, we are nothing but tools at their disposal. Personally, I have no beef with you. I am here to return with your head. It’s up to you if it’s still attached to your body.”

Cole pushed off the pole, stepping close but keeping enough distance while he gave his target one last chance. “I said, I quit. Now fuck off so I can enjoy my vacation.” He held his arms out, presenting his complete innocence and disinterest.

Guillaume crossed quick for a guy who’d had his knee shot out not too long ago, but Cole supposed he’d come a long way, too.

Patience. Timing. Cole waited.

Guillaume didn’t depend solely on his beefcake bod. At the last second, Guillaume juked and came in from the back instead.

Cole ducked and turned. This was going to hurt. He winced, anticipating the pain as he slammed his hot cup into Guillaume’s face, liquid splashing over his own hand in the process. Could have gone for the throw, but he wanted maximum burn.

Guillaume cried out and pressed his hands to his eyes.