by Lauren Layne
She wondered if it was always just the two of them, or if parents sometimes tagged along. Did Cole’s parents live in New York? Were they alive?
It was something a girlfriend would know. Heck, it was something a friend would know.
Her frown deepened as she realized just how little she knew the man she was sometimes sleeping with.
After singing “Take Me Out to the Ball Game” at the seventh-inning stretch, Bobby headed to the restrooms with firm instructions that he did not want Cole to come with him.
Penelope and Cole stayed standing, watching in awkward silence as the crew cleaned up the field. She shoved her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, and Cole turned toward her suddenly.
“Thank you.”
She glanced up at him. “For?”
He lifted a shoulder. “For not making it weird. For being…understanding.”
It was on the tip of Penelope’s tongue to protest that it was no big thing—or at least that it shouldn’t be. But something on Cole’s face had her holding back. As though he’d been through this sort of interaction before, and not had it end well.
She touched her fingers just lightly to his elbow. “I’m having a really good time.”
He swallowed and glanced at her before his eyes darted back to the field.
This was a different side of Cole. One she was suddenly desperate to get to know. But it wasn’t the time. Or the place. And then Bobby was back, and the game wound down into what turned out to be a pretty impressive victory for the Mets.
The three of them filed out of their row and joined the slow, crowded procession toward the main level. Bobby chatted happily the whole time about some big party they were having at the Big House later, and how he was going to wear his new purple shirt.
They were a few feet from the exit when Cole interrupted his brother. “Hold on, Bobby, there’s something we need to do before we can leave.”
Both Penelope and Bobby looked at him.
“Look at Penelope here,” Cole said. “Does she seem like she’s missing something?”
Bobby studied her with careful precision before holding up a finger. “A hat!”
“Damn straight,” Cole said. “She’s lacking a Mets cap.”
“Says the guy wearing the Yankees hat,” Penelope said.
She meant to match his playfulness, but inside her heart was doing weird, skippy things.
How had he known? Not just that she wanted a hat but that she didn’t want to buy it for herself—by herself.
“You pick it out,” she told Bobby, once they were inside the crowded shop. “You know the Mets better than anyone.”
“Classic,” Bobby said without hesitation. “Definitely classic. Do you know your size?”
“Of course I know my hat size,” Penelope said with a mock-offended voice.
She caught Cole’s grin out of the corner of her eye. “A woman who knows her hat size, Bob. Is it any wonder we adore her?”
Her eyes flew to Cole, but he seemed unaware of what he’d just said, instead helping Bobby rifle through the disorganized mass of hats until they found her size.
She reached into her pocket for the cash she’d brought, but Cole held up a hand. “No way. The Sharpe brothers are paying for this and your dry cleaning bill.”
His eyes skimmed over her butter-splattered outfit, and Penelope didn’t think it was her imagination that his eyes lingered on certain body parts.
And it definitely wasn’t her imagination that the formerly comfortable shop had turned extremely warm.
Cole took her hat to the counter as she and Bobby debated whether it was okay that there were pink jerseys. She said no, he insisted yes.
When Cole made his way back to them, he plopped the hat on her head before curving his hands around the bill and applying gentle pressure in an attempt to get rid of the “new hat” look.
His eyes were warm as they locked on hers, and she had a pretty good feeling that if they were alone he would have kissed her.
And she had a really good feeling that she would have kissed him back.
“Penelope, you should come with us to dinner,” Bobby said, unaware of the electricity humming between her and his brother.
“Oh, I can’t,” she said. “I have to get back home so I can—”
Damn it. The only excuse she had at the ready was feed my fish, and there was no way she would give voice to that level of lame.
“Bobby’s right,” Cole said. “You should come with us. We’re just going to grab a quick burger. Nothing fancy. Bobby’s got to get home for his big party.”
“Um, well, if you’re sure I wouldn’t be—”
“We’re sure,” Bobby interrupted, leaning forward and grabbing her hand. “Come on. I’m starving.”
Penelope let Bobby drag her forward but gave one last questioning glance at Cole to make sure it was really okay.
But he obviously hadn’t expected her to turn around just then, because his expression was as open and vulnerable as she’d ever seen it.
She just wished she knew what he was feeling.
Heck, for that matter…
She wouldn’t mind knowing what she was feeling.
Chapter 18
It was an odd thing, being jealous of one’s brother. Cole wasn’t used to it.
Protective? Yes.
Adoring? Definitely.
Amused? Always. Bobby was one of the funniest people he knew.
But jealous? It wasn’t really a part of their relationship. Until now.
Cole watched as Penelope and his brother walked ahead of him, hand in hand, bickering like an old married couple over whether the regular fries or the sweet potato fries had been better at the restaurant.
The sweet potato fries had been better by a long shot, but saying so would mean agreeing with Penelope, who hadn’t once glanced back at him on the long walk to the adult care home where Bobby lived.
And yet, despite the fact that the woman he was sleeping with was barely glancing his way, Cole was fucking loving every minute of this.
He couldn’t remember a day when he’d felt this whole. Ever.
He quickened his pace to catch up with them and Penelope gave him such a genuine, happy smile that he wanted to reach for her other hand.
Instead, he shoved his hands in his pockets.
The sky still looked like rain, but so far it had held off, and the late afternoon was unseasonably warm, making for a pleasant walk from the subway station back to Bobby’s place on the Lower East Side.
A couple minutes later, they were in front of Bobby’s group home.
Cole usually hated this part. Hated the empty feeling after Bobby went happily back to whatever he and his friends had planned for the evening, leaving Cole feeling a little hollow.
But tonight was different. Tonight, when Bobby dashed up the steps and gave one last wave before disappearing, Cole wouldn’t be left standing alone.
“It was nice to meet you, Penelope,” Bobby said.
“You too.”
“And I’m really sorry about the popcorn.”
She waved this away. “Don’t think a thing about it.”
Bobby nodded and smiled. “I’ll see you again soon?”
Cole’s heart broke a little at the sweet ignorance behind Bobby’s question, and started to save Penelope from having to answer, but she beat him to it.
“I’d like that.”
Cole glanced down at her sharply, looking for the lie behind her words, but saw only Penelope’s usual genuineness.
Bobby grinned happily and hugged a surprised Penelope before turning to Cole.
Cole hugged his brother, feeling the usual combination of love and guilt that happened whenever they said goodbye.
“I’ll see you soon, okay, Bobbo?” he said quietly.
“I know,” Bobby said, thumping Cole’s back twice and pulling back. “But now I have to go to my party.”
Cole smiled and allowed his brother to pull away. Bobby’s
face was conflicted. “You can come to the party if you want, Cole. They’ll let you.”
“Nah, you go,” Cole said. “I’ve got things to do.”
“Like hang out with Penelope?”
Cole glanced down at the tiny brunette by his side. Her face was tilted up so he could see beneath the bill of her hat, and she wiggled her eyebrows playfully. She was also completely unperturbed by the butter splatters on her shirt and jeans.
“Yeah,” he heard himself say to his brother. “I’m going to hang out with Penelope.”
He watched as his brother bounded up the steps, turning back as he opened the front door and giving one last happy wave before disappearing.
Penelope started to turn away, but Cole held up a finger for her to wait. A moment later, the door opened again, and a friendly-looking woman with short black hair stuck her head out and gave Cole a wave.
“The residents are supposed to check in and out whenever they come and go. Bobby always forgets this, but he hates it when I baby him by walking him all the way inside. Gloria always watches for him.”
She nodded in understanding. “How long has he lived here?”
“Since I was twenty-five. After college I tried to have him live with me, but it just…he got bored when I was at work. He hates being alone. I hated having to put him in a group home, but—”
“Are you kidding?” Penelope said as they began walking. “He clearly loves it.”
“Yeah.” He swallowed. “Thanks for saying so.”
“This is so not my business, but are your parents in the picture?” she asked.
“They both died a few years ago,” he answered quietly.
“I’m sorry.”
He nodded. “Honestly, even if they were around, I don’t know that things would be different. They loved Bobby, but they alternated between treating him like a burden and a child. He wouldn’t have been happy living with them, and the home he’s in now is expensive—”
“You pay for it? All on your own?”
He smiled. “You sound impressed now, but wait until you see that my apartment doesn’t have a wall separating the bedroom from the living room or the living room from the kitchen…”
“Cole, the fact that you sacrifice your own comfort for your brother’s makes you more attractive. Not less.”
He grabbed her hand and pulled her around to face him. “Is that why you’ve got a crush on me?”
“Ah—” She tilted her head down, her hat hiding her face, and he pulled her closer.
“Pen.” He kept his voice light, teasing, but he was oddly eager to have her confirm that what she’d told his brother was true.
She tilted her face up to look at him. “You know you’re ridiculously charming.”
He grinned. “You sound grumpy about that.”
“Let’s just say I’m not exactly loving the fact that I seem to find myself on the verge of joining the Cole Sharpe fan club.”
“Resistance is futile,” he said. He started to dip down to kiss her, only to realize that kissing in baseball caps on a semicrowded sidewalk was logistically annoying.
He stood back up, his eyes locked on hers. “What day is it?”
“Sunday.”
Cole traced a finger along her cheekbone. “Which is the weekend.”
She smiled, and his finger dropped down to trace her mouth.
“It is,” she replied.
He swallowed, preparing to take a risk he hadn’t taken in a long, long time.
“My place is thirty minutes north of here.”
She hesitated, and his heart sank. She couldn’t have known, of course, that she was the first woman he’d invited back to his studio in years. Couldn’t have known how unusual it was that he wanted her to see it. To know all of him.
But it stung, all the same.
I don’t want a boyfriend.
Suddenly her emphatic and repeated statement was starting to feel a lot more like I don’t want you.
“The thing is, Cole…I’m pretty sure I smell like butter.”
He blinked down at her. “Butter?”
She glanced down. “It’s hard enough for me to feel sexy on a good day, but when I smell like a movie theater…”
Cole was torn between relief that she wasn’t rejecting him and the now familiar anger at her lack of self-esteem when it came to her appeal. But it didn’t feel right to bring that up—not here.
“I’ve got good news for you,” he said. Cole lifted her hand to his lips, and before he realized what he was doing, had pressed a kiss to the back of her hand.
“What’s that?” she asked warily.
“The good news, my dear, is that I happen to like the taste of popcorn, almost as much as I like the taste of you.”
Her breath hitched a little, and he knew he had her.
“Come over?”
Her wide dark eyes went hazy. “Okay.”
Cole gave in to temptation then. Forgot about the whole kissing-in-hats-is-awkward thing.
He tilted his head and kissed her, and then lingered. And tried very hard to ignore the sudden, forbidden thought that he wished every day could be exactly like this one.
Chapter 19
The morning-after walk of shame was a new thing for Penelope, but luckily, she didn’t have to do it alone.
Cole wouldn’t hear about her walking home on her own, and since she refused to consider a cab on what was looking to be a gorgeous early-summer Monday morning, he walked her back to her place.
“I don’t know how I let you talk me into this five A.M. wake-up call,” Cole grumbled as he held the door at Starbucks open for her.
She stepped out onto the sidewalk and took a sip of her latte. “You know exactly why we’re doing this. I need to get home in time to shower before work, and someone refused to let me go home last night.”
“Tiny, the day I willingly let a naked woman leave my apartment after a world-class blow job is the day you should just euthanize me.”
Penelope started to tell herself not to blush at the memory of last night, only to find…she didn’t feel like blushing at all. She felt…like doing it all over again. Many times.
Next weekend, she told herself. You can do it next weekend.
Although, truth be told, her oh-so-smart plan of only having sex on weekends was starting to feel a bit silly.
What would be so wrong with doing this on a regular basis? The baseball games, followed by chatty family dinners. Followed by sex and cuddling and talking long into the night.
Followed by Starbucks runs and…
Holding hands.
Cole casually reached for her hand as they started their trek across Central Park back toward her place. She glanced up at him and he winked.
She could fall for this man. She could so fall for him.
“You’ve got your thinking face on, Tiny.”
“You make that sound like it’s a rare occasion,” she said.
“Let’s just say I like your sexy face better. Or your sports-watching one, where you bite your lip when the score gets close. Or basically, any of your looks that aren’t going to end up with you telling me we can’t have sex again for five days.”
And that, right there, was the problem.
For Cole, this was all about sex.
Sure, he liked her. She didn’t doubt that. But when she broke their rule and fell in love with him, it would be a disaster.
If, she mentally corrected herself. If she did that.
“Cole—”
He sighed. “Don’t do it, Tiny. Let’s just walk quietly and enjoy the rarity of having Central Park all to ourselves.”
They didn’t have it quite all to themselves. There were a handful of runners. An elderly couple. But for the most part, it was deserted, and lovely, with nothing but the rising sun and the blossoming trees, and—
Julie Greene?
A slim blond woman decked out in aqua running gear came to a stop before them, slightly out of breath.
Yep. I
t was definitely Julie of the Stiletto crew.
“Cole? Penelope?”
Julie glanced between the two of them in confusion. Then she gave Penelope a subtle once-over, and her confusion turned into a slow, sly smile, no doubt making the assumption that the hugely oversize T-shirt Penelope was wearing was Cole’s.
An assumption that would be correct.
Julie’s husband rounded a corner, paused slightly when he spotted them, then came to stand beside Julie.
“Good of you to catch up, sweetie,” Julie said, reaching over and patting his ass.
Mitchell gave her a look before reaching out and shaking Cole’s hand in greeting.
“You lapped her, huh?” Cole asked, jerking his chin at Julie.
Mitchell gave a slight smile that softened his otherwise harsh features. “A gentleman never tells.”
He didn’t have to. The fact that Julie was red-faced and panting, while her husband looked like he could run to California without breaking a sweat said it all.
Julie waggled a finger between Cole and Penelope. “So Penelope’s mussed hair tells me what you guys were doing last night, but what the heck are you doing this morning?”
“Some people like to get up early,” Mitchell told his wife.
“Nobody likes getting up early, Mitchell,” Julie retorted. “Nobody with a soul.”
“I’m walking Penelope back to her place,” Cole said, as though it were the most natural thing in the world for him to accompany her from his place to hers in the early-morning hours. “She refused to take a cab. Something about fresh air and sunshine, blah blah blah.”
Mitchell nodded at Penelope approvingly and Julie rolled her eyes.
Penelope finally managed to unstick her tongue from the roof of her mouth. “Cole and I were just—we only sometimes—we—”
“Are having rather fantastic sex,” Cole completed for her.
“Cole!”
“What, like they didn’t know?” Cole said, pointing his coffee cup toward Julie and Mitchell.
Sure enough, Julie was grinning happily, and Mitchell gave her a little wink.
“It’s not serious,” Penelope heard herself say.