Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 111400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
“He made that drive alone?” Cole was surprised. “He’s in his eighties, isn’t he?”
“He drove up with Beckett and his dad.”
“Oh, good. Well, it’s a great idea.”
“Thank you.” I dipped into a little curtsy, making him laugh. Then I shivered. “Ooh, it’s chilly. Should we go in?”
“Sure.” He pulled the door open for me. “You know, I’d have liked to see you in that black dress.”
My jaw dropped. “You would have?”
“Sure. But that’s not really news, is it? I mean, I’d like to see you in anything. And nothing.”
I cocked my head. “Officer Mitchell, are you drunk?”
He gave me his crooked grin. “Maybe a little. Mostly I just wanted to know what it would feel like to say what I was thinking.”
“I know exactly what you mean. So how did it feel?”
He moved closer to me, letting the heavy door swing shut behind us. His mouth was at my ear. “Pretty fucking good.”
I gasped.
It was the phone sex voice.
I had a hard time concentrating after that.
The rehearsal went fine, although Blair burst into happy tears when Charlie Frankel showed up offering his arm, and much of the wedding party was kind of drunk, which made April a little concerned that none of us were going to recall where to stand and what to do tomorrow, and every time Cole and I locked eyes I felt my cheeks catch fire. As he escorted me back down the aisle, my hand tucked inside his elbow, I felt like the heat was coming off him in waves. I actually started to sweat.
On the way back to the inn, someone—probably Griffin—started a snowball fight, and pretty soon we were all hurling snow at each other, slip-sliding on the lawn, pumping our fists if we landed a good shot and shrieking in outrage if we got hit. Afterward, I joined Mariah in making snow angels, and by the time we made it inside the inn, every one of us was wet and shivering.
“Okay, you guys,” Blair said. “You have thirty minutes to get yourselves cleaned up and respectable. Dry clothes, nice shoes, and no hats.”
“You sound like a kindergarten teacher,” I teased her.
She pointed in the direction of the stairs. “Go!”
Up in my room, I yanked off my boots, peeled off my damp sweater and popsicle-leg jeans, and considered the items in my closet. One floral blouse, one long velvet gown, and one sexy black dress.
I bit my lip. Should I?
While I was standing there, my phone pinged with a text. I ran over to the bed to check it.
Cole: Wear the dress.
I grinned.
Me: Are you still drunk?
Cole: Nope. I just want to see you in it.
Me: I will take that into consideration.
Unable to wipe the smile off my face, I swapped my boring underwear for something black and lacy, shimmied into the dress, and stepped into my heels. The dress was long and clingy, with a high slit and camisole straps. It didn’t reveal a lot of cleavage, but it definitely showed off my curves. I didn’t have too much time to fix up my hair and makeup, but I did the best I could—repairing my mascara, fussing with a hair dryer and curling iron, and reapplying my lipstick.
When I was ready, I wrapped an ivory cashmere scarf around my shoulders, blew myself a kiss in the mirror and headed out.
I had no idea if Cole had changed his mind about putting on the brakes. I had no clue what might happen between us tonight. I could not imagine what was behind his sudden flirty behavior.
But I refused to ruin my effervescent mood and rare burst of confidence by overthinking it. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the dress, maybe it was just being tired of wanting something so badly and holding it in, but I felt good in my skin tonight. Sexy. Confident.
The moment I walked into the bar, Cole turned around like he knew I was there. His eyes went wide. His jaw dropped. He grabbed the knot on his tie and pulled it loose.
Smiling, I moved closer, slipping in next to him at the bar. “Hi.”
“Holy shit.” His eyes ran over my skin, head to toe. “You’re stunning.”
“Thank you. You look good too.” Good was an understatement. He looked like a men’s fragrance ad, all glittering blue eyes and sharp chiseled jaw. He wore dark dress pants, a white shirt, and a tie that matched the color of his eyes. “I like the tie.”
“Mariah chose it.”
I laughed. “I’ve been replaced as your stylist, I see. Is she down yet?”
“She’s coming down with my mom in a minute.” He shook his head. “I’m beginning to regret telling you to wear the dress. I’m not going to be able to keep my eyes off you tonight.”
“Good,” I said, perching on the edge of the bar stool and crossing my legs just so.