Page 36 of Unbreakable Bonds (The Boston Romance #2)

ALISHA

Cole keeps staring at me with a deep frown line set between his eyes. "Cole? Say something."

"You want me to meet your parents?" He scratches his beard, and I shrug.

"Yeah. Why not? I met your mother. Now you can meet mine." His hand travels to the back of his neck, and then it hits me.

He's nervous!

My god, this man surprises me every time, but I'm understanding that with Cole Walker, I can expect anything.

I bite the inside of my lip, hiding a smile when I recall the moment he and Steven started bickering and having a dick competition.

To be honest, it was a fucking turn on seeing him being jealous and telling Steven I was his business.

But the best of all were his words, "I want you indefinitely, Alex.

" I never expected to hear those words coming from him.

I lift myself on my toes and plant a chaste kiss on his jaw, his fresh, woody, enticing scent enveloping me. "Let's go. Their home is near," I say, pointing down the road.

We get in the car, and during the five-minute ride where I can't stop glancing at him through the corner of my eyes while gently caressing his thigh, we park in front of the house.

"This is it." I motion to the colonial home built on an elevation as Cole stops next to me.

"So, this is where you grew up?"

"Yep. Are you ready?"

His warm lips touch my temple. "Ready as I'll ever be."

A swarm of bees buzz in my stomach when I hold out my hand and he takes it. Walking up the stone steps towards the front door, I enjoy the warmth, and the zest of life his touch awakens in me. By the door, I glance at his face and brush my thumb over his lips. His irises turn a darker shade.

I swallow, grab the key, and after entering the house, I yell, "Mom, Dad, I'm back."

No response. I let go of his hand when I see a colorful post-it note pinned on the message board hanging by the stairs. I walk over and read my mother's handwriting. We are buying groceries. Be back in a little while.

I chuckle. My mom installed it when I was living at home with the rule: If any of us leave the house, you must write a message saying where you were going.

I turn back to Cole, but he's not there.

Before I can question where he went, I catch his chuckle, and I cringe.

Oh, no! Shit. I power walk into the next room, only to find him standing there, grinning at the wall with pictures.

And not any pictures, but photos of the young me. God, they are horrible.

I stop beside him and let out a frustrated sigh. "Okay, wipe that smirk off your face, Walker."

His eyes sparkle with amusement as they keep traveling and investigating every picture.

My mom took pictures of what she calls Alisha's first times.

Me eating my first veggies, my first steps, when I lost my first tooth, my first bike ride, up to the embarrassing photo of my face showing the orthodontic braces I had for two years.

"Cute." He snickers, pointing to the picture of me with braces.

I smack his shoulder. "That isn't cute."

"Yes, it is. This shows how proud your parents are and how much they love you. This house is so different from the house I grew up in."

He sighs, turns, and strolls further, taking in the two two-seater couches that stand on a dark green colored rug.

His view glides to the two vases with white tulip arrangements standing in front of the window.

Then his attention wanders further until they catch the item that is placed in the small extra wing connected to the living room through an open wooden arch in the wall.

Shit!

"Sorry," I whisper while hurrying over to him.

"Who plays the piano?" he asks, leaning with his shoulder against the wooden arch while gazing at the dark walnut piano standing by the window.

"Both my parents are big lovers of classical music, but it's my mother who's in love with piano music. Years ago, my father bought her this second-hand piano as a wedding anniversary present. But to be honest, she can better listen to it than play it."

His lips curl. "Have you ever tried to play?"

I let out an amused snort. "Me? Oh god, no. I'm better at dancing to music."

I stop before him. "Are you okay?" His eyes leave the piano, and when they meet mine, they're mellow as the sky at sunset. I could stare into them all day.

"Don't worry. I don't break down every time I see a piano."

I lift my hand and follow his jawline with my index and middle finger. "Hey, you didn't break down that night. You opened up to me about an important part of your life. A part that is you, Cole."

His eyes dart back to the instrument.

"How bad do you miss playing?"

He lets out a lengthy, deep sigh. "Some days, the pull to play is immense, almost all-consuming and physically painful. I hoped it would lessen as the years passed, but it never has."

"So, what do you do when that happens?"

"There are two things that work to diminish the feelings. One of them I've used for years, and the other one is new but effective." He grins.

"And what are they?"

"Working out and kissing."

A nasty sting sits in my chest as I imagine him kissing the hell out of various women to relieve the physical and emotional pain. "Well, then you must have kissed many women through the years."

He chuckles. "Let me explain before you jump to unnecessary conclusions, you impatient woman. Working out has been my go-to option for years. But then you and your luscious lips came along."

My eyes widen. "Kissing me helps?"

"Yes, you, and only you, stir up feelings that are much stronger than the disturbing pulling sensation.

" He touches my cheek, and I can see the pool of conflict in his irises.

"I know I should stop blaming myself for what happened and sit down and play, but I'm terrified of what might happen if I do. "

With my eyes connected to his, I reply, "Just know that if you're ready, I will be there to listen."

"Thank you." He bends down, and the moment our lips are about to connect, the front door slams shut and my parents' voices echo through the house.

"Alisha, are you home?" I hear my mom call out.

"Whose car is that in front of our house?" my father hollers.

I step back, and I call out. "Mom, Dad. I'm in the living room." The sound of footsteps coming closer makes my heart somersault in my chest.

"Oh honey, how was the walk with S—" My mom halts midway through her sentence and the room when she sees the large man standing next to me. "Oh, hello. You are not Steven."

My mother's eyes wander over Cole, and I swallow when my dad walks in and halts next to his wife.

"What is going on here?" he inquires with a straightforward voice while narrowing his eyes. "You walk out of the house with one man and come back with a different one?" His gaze meets mine. Oh boy. "Explain, Alisha."

"Hey, Dad," I chirp, giving him my 'I love you, Daddy' smile. Before I can introduce Cole, he walks towards my parents—stretching his hand to my father. "Hello, Mr. McQueen. It's nice to meet you. I'm Cole."

"Well, Cole. I'm Jim." After they shake hands, my dad puts an arm around my mom. "This is my lovely wife, Clair."

"I can see from whom you inherited your beauty, Alisha," Cole says while extending his hand towards my mother and giving her his killer smile. My mom's eyes get fine wrinkle lines, and her lips curl into a grand smile as she shakes his hand.

"Hello Cole, it's nice to meet you." She holds his hand while investigating his face, but when she doesn't stop, I react.

"Mom... Jeez. Stop the gawking."

"Oh." She lets go. "Sorry, but you look familiar. Don't you agree, Jim?" she says, still scanning him.

Oh, god.

My father shrugs. "I don't know..."

"Oh, come on," I protest out loud while stopping next to Cole. "You two have never met him. Stop acting like two oddballs. It's embarrassing."

Cole chuckles. "It's okay, Alex."

My cheeks burn when I see my father's raised brow.

"Alex, huh?" my dad verbalizes in a dead-serious tone of voice while gazing at him. "What are your exact intentions with my daughter, Cole?"

My heart rate increases. "Dad…"

Cole has an amusing smirk on his lips when he glances at me.

"Well," he says, looking back at my father.

"To be honest, I like your daughter a lot.

So, since I'm here, why not use this opportunity to ask you and your wife's permission to take your beautiful daughter out on a date. " He waves his hand.

"What?" My head shoots to the handsome giant beside me. "That is ridiculous," I say, placing my hands on my hips. "We're not in the Middle Ages, Cole. This is the twenty-first century where you ask me that question first, not my parents."

Cole sends me a cheeky grin while grabbing my hand and brushing his thumb over the back of my hand. "Okay, then what about this? Alisha Alexandra McQueen, would you like to go on a date with me?"

My father's thunderous laughter fills the room. "Oh, I like you already, Cole. You've got balls and manners, and you're clearly a man who can handle my beautiful, temperamental daughter. So you've got our permission."

"Dad, really?"

"Oh, Jim, stop teasing our sweet girl. This is the first time she has brought a man home to meet us. Don't ruin it."

Ah, finally, someone supports me.

I send my mother a satisfied smile, but it falters when she opens her mouth and speaks again. "Alisha, this charming man just asked you out on a date. Don't you think you should answer him?"

I glare back at Cole, who has a mighty confident smirk plastered on his face.

I shrug. "I don't know. He scared Steven away." Cole's piercing eyes prick my skin.

"Excellent job, young man," my dad replies, sending him a thumbs up.

"What?"

My father laughs. "Oh, Alisha, there is nothing wrong with fighting away the competition," he says. "I did the same when I met your mother. Didn't I, honey?"

"You sure did."