Page 20 of Falling for Cocky Cole (Shared by the Carter Brothers #2)

EDWARD

The cold water cascades down my back, but it does nothing to quell the fire burning inside me.

I crank the shower knob further, hoping the icy spray will shock some sense into my lust-addled brain.

It doesn’t work. All I can think about is Alison — her bright blue eyes, her silky blonde hair, the curves of her body that seemed to appear out of nowhere.

“Get a grip,” I mutter, scrubbing my skin raw. “She's Richard's daughter, for Christ's sake."

But my treacherous mind keeps replaying our encounter on the beach. The way the morning mist clung to her like a gossamer veil. How her t-shirt stretched across her newly developed breasts. The round swell of her ass in those tiny shorts.

I groan, pressing my forehead against the cool tile. What the hell is wrong with me? When did sweet little Alison transform into this alluring woman?

"She's off limits," I remind myself sternly. "Completely, totally forbidden."

Yet I can't shake the memory of her jasmine-peach scent as we walked back to the village. Or how soft her skin felt when she hugged me goodbye. My cock twitches at the recollection and I curse under my breath.

"Dammit, Edward, pull yourself together!"

I shut off the water with more force than necessary and grab a towel, scrubbing myself dry as if I could erase these inappropriate thoughts from my mind. But Alison's image lingers, taunting me. Those big blue eyes gazing at me with such open admiration. That coy little smile playing on her lips.

"She's not a child anymore," a traitorous voice whispers in my head.

I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the voice to be silent. Of course she's grown up — she’s a college graduate. But that doesn't change the fact that she's my best friend's daughter. That I've known her since she was in diapers. That this sudden, overwhelming attraction is wrong on every level.

Yet as I recall how different she looks from the last time I saw her — no longer that too-thin teenager, but a woman with lush, tempting curves — I can't help the surge of desire that courses through me.

"Stop it," I growl at my reflection in the mirror. "Just stop."

But I know it's useless. Alison Davis has gotten under my skin, and I fear she won't be easily forgotten.

I shake off the lingering thoughts of Alison and force myself to focus on the day ahead.

As CEO of Everest Investments, I can't afford to let personal distractions interfere with work.

I fire up my laptop and dive into a series of urgent tasks — reviewing quarterly projections, analyzing potential acquisition targets, and preparing for an upcoming board meeting.

After a couple of hours of intense concentration, I stretch and glance at my watch. Time to take Nugget for his walk.

"Hey buddy," I call out, and my playful beagle bounds into the room, tail wagging furiously. "Ready for some exercise?"

As we set out into the sun-dappled woods behind the village, I try to clear my mind. The fresh pine scent and the crunch of needles underfoot are soothing. Nugget darts ahead, sniffing excitedly at every new smell.

"At least one of us is living in the moment," I mutter.

Suddenly, Nugget lets out a bark and takes off running. I jog after him, rounding a bend to find him splashing gleefully in a small stream.

"You rascal," I laugh, unable to stay brooding with his infectious joy.

As we make our way back to the cabin, my thoughts inevitably return to the upcoming dinner with Alison. What was I thinking, inviting her over? But it's too late to back out now.

We hop in the car and head to the quaint town center, a charming collection of clapboard storefronts and hanging flower baskets. At the local butcher, I select some prime ribeyes. The greengrocer provides crisp vegetables for a salad.

I'm about to head home when a display in the bakery window catches my eye — a luscious strawberry cake, the berries glistening like rubies atop swirls of cream.

"Alison loves strawberry cake," I suddenly remember. Before I can overthink it, I step inside to make one final purchase.

As I drive back to the cabin, laden with groceries, I try to convince myself this is just a casual dinner between old friends. But the quickening of my pulse tells a different story.

The moment I step through my cabin door, I'm a flurry of activity. I've got less than two hours to transform these raw ingredients into a meal worthy of... No, I can't think like that. This is just a friendly dinner, nothing more.

I marinate the steaks in a blend of seasonings and herbs, my hands working automatically while my mind wanders. How many times have I cooked for myself in this kitchen, never imagining I'd be preparing a meal for Richard's daughter?

As I chop vegetables for the salad, I can't help but recall the little girl who used to spend her summers here with her parents, all gangly limbs and braces. Now she's a woman, and the thought makes my knife falter for a moment.

At six o'clock, I fire up the grill, the smell of charcoal mingling with the salt air. My hand shakes slightly as I dial Alison's number.

"Hey, dinner's almost ready. Feel free to head over whenever you'd like," I say, aiming for casual.

"Great! I'll be there in ten," she replies, her voice bright with enthusiasm.

True to her word, barely ten minutes later, there's a knock at the door. I wipe my hands on a dishtowel, take a deep breath, and move to answer it.

The moment I open the door, all the air leaves my lungs. Alison stands there, a vision in a flowing summer dress that accentuates every curve. Her blonde hair cascades over her shoulders, catching the late afternoon light.

"Hi Alison," I manage to say, my voice rougher than I'd like. "Come on in. Dinner will be ready in just a sec."

She steps inside, a smile playing on her lips. "Smells good," she says, her blue eyes sparkling. "I'm hungry."

I clear my throat, trying to regain my composure. "Good. I've made enough dinner to feed an army."

Alison laughs, the sound light and musical. "No way, really?"

I nod, fighting to keep my eyes on her face and not the way her dress clings to her slender waist. "I might have gone a bit overboard," I admit, leading her to the patio.

As we step outside, I can't help but wonder what I've gotten myself into. This is going to be a long night.

I gesture towards the outdoor seating area, trying to maintain a casual demeanor. "Let me fix you a drink first," I say, desperate for a moment to collect myself. "What would you like? I've got apple juice, orange juice, and coconut water..."

"Have you got any beer?" Alison asks, catching me off guard.

I blink, momentarily stunned. "I...do, but are you old enough to drink?"

She rolls her eyes, a playful smirk on her face. "Jeez, Uncle Edward. I'm twenty-two. I've graduated college!"

"Right, right, I forgot," I say, feeling foolish. Damn. It's hard for me to accept the fact that Alison is indeed a young woman now. The realization sends a confusing mix of emotions through me. "In that case, I'll get you a beer. I have wine, too."

"Thanks. But I think beer goes better with BBQ," she says decisively.

I can't help but chuckle. "You're right again." Damn. When did she become so... adult? "Did you major in culinary arts?"

Alison laughs, the sound warming the evening air. "No! It's common sense. I learned that from going to parties."

The casual mention of her partying sends an unexpected pang through my chest. I push the feeling aside, focusing on being a good host as I fetch our drinks.

As we settle onto the patio, the aroma of grilled meat fills the air. I watch Alison take her first bite, unable to suppress a smile as her eyes light up with delight.

"Mmmm," she utters appreciatively, giving me an enthusiastic thumbs up. "This is the best barbecue beef I've had in my entire life!"

I chuckle, warmth spreading through my chest at her praise. "You know how to appeal to my ego, Alison."

"I'm not flattering you on purpose, Uncle Edward," she insists, her blue eyes sparkling. "But I don't remember you being such a great cook. Have you lately taken a cooking class or something?"

I shake my head, taking a sip of my beer. "No, but I have spent quite a lot of time at home cooking my own meals in recent years."

"Why?" Alison asks, her brow furrowing slightly. "You used to love junk food, if I remember correctly."

"You do," I confirm, a wry smile tugging at my lips. "I just decided I've had enough junk, I guess."

The truth is more complicated. I’m sick of eating out alone or even ordering food for myself. And cooking seems to be a nice, relaxing way to spend time at home. But I hesitate to burden her with my loneliness.

Alison's expression softens, a hint of sadness creeping into her eyes. "Good. I need to tell my dad. He's still a to-go fan. Since my mom left, he almost never eats home-cooked food. And I'm not good at cooking either."

"No?" I ask, seizing the opportunity to lighten the mood. "Maybe you should take a class with me."

Her face brightens instantly. "That'll be awesome," she says, smiling. "Why don't we begin like, right now? Tell me how you marinate the beef."

Before I know it, I'm explaining the intricacies of my marinade. "The key is to balance sweet and savory. I use a mix of soy sauce, brown sugar, and a touch of balsamic vinegar. Then I add minced garlic, ginger, and a dash of red pepper flakes for heat."

Alison listens intently, nodding as if committing each detail to memory. Her enthusiasm is infectious, and I find myself gesturing animatedly as I describe the importance of letting the meat marinate overnight.