Page 16 of Falling for Cocky Cole (Shared by the Carter Brothers #2)

COLE

" W ait here," I tell Caleb, my eyes following Ivy's retreating form.

My brother looks torn between chasing after her himself and giving her space.

"Let me talk to her first." He nods reluctantly, running a hand through his sandy hair in that nervous gesture he's had since we were kids.

I give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before heading inside, finding Ivy in the living room, grabbing her purse from the couch like she's preparing for a quick escape.

"Hold up," I say, catching her arm gently. "Where are you going?"

She doesn't meet my eyes, her blonde hair falling forward to shield her face. "I'm sorry, Cole. I shouldn't have—this was a mistake."

"What was a mistake? Kissing Caleb?" I keep my voice deliberately casual, though my heart is pounding. Everything hinges on how I handle the next few minutes.

Her head snaps up, blue eyes wide with something between guilt and defiance. "Yes. No. I don't know." She pulls her arm free from my grasp. "I shouldn't be here with both of you. It's confusing and messy and?—"

"Ivy." I cup her face in my hands, forcing her to look at me. "It's okay that you kissed him."

She blinks, clearly not expecting this response. "What?"

"It's okay," I repeat, thumbs stroking her cheekbones. "I'm not upset."

"But we're..." She gestures vaguely between us. "You and I are... whatever we are. And then I just kissed your brother right in front of you. That's not okay."

I smile, unable to help myself. She's adorable when she's flustered, a rare state for someone usually so composed. "We're friends with benefits, right? That's what you said you wanted. No strings, no expectations."

She narrows her eyes, suspicion replacing confusion. "So what, you're saying you don't care if I kiss Caleb because it isn’t serious between us?"

"I'm saying I know you and Caleb have feelings for each other. I've always known." I let my hands drop from her face, giving her a little space. "That's why we wanted to have dinner together tonight. To sort things out."

"Sort what out, exactly?" Her voice has taken on that sharp edge she gets when she's feeling cornered.

"The fact that my brother has been in love with you since you were fifteen, and you've been in love with him for at least that long." I shrug, trying to keep it light despite the heaviness of what I'm saying. "And the fact that you and I have something good going, too."

Ivy takes a step back, her expression hardening. "Is that what this is about? You're trying to pass me off to Caleb? Get rid of me now that you've had your fun?"

"What? No," I reach for her, but she evades my touch. "That's not it at all."

"Then what is it? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you invited me over, let me think we were on a date, then practically shoved me at your brother."

She's not entirely wrong, but her interpretation of my motives couldn't be further from the truth. I need to make her understand.

"I invited you over because I wanted to see you," I say firmly. "Because I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since the barn. Because you're the first woman in a long time who makes me feel... real."

"Then why?—"

"Because Caleb is my brother, and he's been miserable since that night. Because I saw the way you looked at him at dinner, like he hung the moon." I step closer, closing the distance she created. "And because I thought maybe, just maybe, there was room for both of us in your life."

Her eyes widen fractionally, and I can almost see her processing what I'm saying—and what I'm not saying.

Before she can respond, I lean in and kiss her, not gently like I intended but with all the hunger I've been tempering since she walked through the door.

For a heartbeat, she's stiff in my arms, and then she melts against me, her hands fisting in my shirt.

When we break apart, we're both breathing hard. "Does that feel like I'm trying to get rid of you?" I ask, my voice rougher than I intended.

She shakes her head, looking dazed. "No, but I don't understand what you want, Cole."

"I want you to be happy." It's the simplest truth I can offer. "And I think Caleb makes you happy. But I also think maybe I could, too."

"So what are you suggesting?" She's guarded again, but there's curiosity in her eyes now.

"I'm not suggesting anything yet." I brush a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm just saying don't run away because you think you have to choose. Maybe you don't."

I hear Caleb's footsteps before I see him, hesitant in the doorway between the patio and living room. He looks between us, his expression a mixture of hope and resignation.

"Ivy," he says, her name coming out like a plea.

She turns to him, and something passes between them—a current I can feel even as an observer. Whatever they had on the patio wasn't just a momentary impulse. It was the culmination of years of unspoken feelings.

"What are you two really up to?" she asks, glancing from Caleb to me and back again. "One minute you're trying to fix me up with the other, and the next..."

Caleb steps fully into the room, closing the distance until he's standing beside me, facing Ivy. There's a resolve in his posture that I recognize—the same determination he shows breaking a wild horse or standing up to Grant when he's being particularly stubborn.

"The truth is," he says, his voice steady despite the slight flush rising up his neck, "we both like you, Ivy. And we want to share you."

I inwardly wince at his bluntness although I’m proud of his courage. I never expected Caleb would just lay it all out there without preamble. But maybe that's better—Ivy has never been one for games or pretense.

Her mouth falls open, and for a long moment, she just stares at us, speechless.

I can almost see the thoughts racing behind those expressive blue eyes, too fast to track.

Then her expression shifts, cycling through shock, confusion, and something else—something that might be interest before settling on indignation.

"This is insane," she says finally, her voice barely above a whisper. She grabs her purse from the couch with renewed purpose. "I can't—I need to go."

Neither of us moves to stop her this time as she strides to the door. She pauses with her hand on the knob, not looking back at us. "I can't believe you two would—" But she doesn't finish the thought, just shakes her head and walks out, the door closing firmly behind her.

Through the front window, I watch her practically run to her Subaru, her blonde hair catching the porch light as she slides into the driver's seat. The engine starts with a roar that seems to match her mood, and then she's gone, gravel spraying as she speeds down our driveway.

"Well," I say into the silence she leaves behind, "that could have gone better."

Caleb gives me a look that's half-exasperation, half-despair. "You think?"

But I'm not as discouraged as I should be. Because beneath Ivy's outrage, I saw something else in her eyes before she turned away—a flash of consideration, a spark of possibility. She's not as horrified by the idea as she wants us to believe.

"She'll be back," I tell my brother with more confidence than I probably have a right to feel. "She just needs time to process."

Caleb sinks onto the couch, head in his hands. "Or time to decide she never wants to see either of us again."

I sit beside him, bumping his shoulder with mine. "Have a little faith, little brother. Ivy Walker isn't the type to run from a challenge."

And what we're offering is certainly that—a challenge to everything she's been taught about love and relationships. But if anyone is capable of rewriting those rules, it's her.