“Great. I now know more about generators than I ever hoped to.”
“That’s good,” she said, keeping up her ruse. “You never know if that’ll come in handy.”
He arched a seriously? brow, and she started laughing. The melodic sound made his chest tighten, more specifically in the region of his heart. Damn, he was getting in over his head with this woman—correction, was in over his head. Funny thing though, the idea didn’t bother him nearly as much now as it had a few weeks ago. Fuck him . . . he was falling for his PT.
“Think that’s funny, do you?” he growled with mock anger as he shouldered himself off the door frame and ambled into her office. He stopped long enough to close the door. Katie’s playful grin faltered at the decisive snick of the lock. Her gaze darted over his shoulder to her only escape, suddenly looking nervous.
“Cole . . . what are you doing?”
He came around the front of her desk and planted his palms on top of her mass of papers and leaned forward, locking his gaze with hers. “There’s something I’ve wanted to do with you since the moment I first met you. And I was thinking today might be the perfect day for it.”
He bit back a grin as Katie exhaled an exasperated sigh and closed her eyes. Bending her head down, she pinched the bridge of her nose as if searching for patience. “I already told you Cole, this isn’t a good idea—”
“Why not? You haven’t even asked me what it was yet.” He gave her a crooked grin, knowing damn well what she was thinking and enjoying like hell watching her squirm. After what happened last night, Cole quickly figured out that the harder he pushed, the faster she ran. Getting close to her was going to take an entirely different approach than what he was used to when dealing with women. If Cole wanted her, he was going to have to work for it—woo her—which was something he knew absolutely nothing about. But he knew how to tease, how to cajole and entice. As long as he kept himself just out of her reach, he was willing to bet she’d eventually lower her guard and come after him.
That lip-lock this morning had been a mistake—a crack in his resolve to keep his hands and mouth off her. It was a mistake he vowed not to make again. The next time they kissed, it would be her doing.
“All right. I’ll bite. What do you want to do with me?”
Katie’s eyes dropped to his mouth as he wet his lips with the tip of his tongue and leaned a little closer, silently cursing the three feet of Formica separating them. Reaching up, he tucked a fallen lock of pale hair behind her ear. As if drawn by an invisible thread, she leaned into his touch as he dipped his head close. Her lids fluttered closed, lips parting in anticipation of his kiss. At the last moment, he dipped his head to the side, whispering near her ear, “Go ice fishing with me, Kat.”
WTF? Katie’s eyes flew open to find a smirking Cole starting back at her. “Ice fishing? Seriously? That’s what you’ve wanted to do since you met me?” Ice fishing, my ass. Cole was up to something. He looked about as into ice fishing as she was into macramé. Not that she’d tell him that. Although she wholly doubted sticking a baited line into an ice hole and staring at a bobber for endless hours was his end game here, she was curious enough to play along. Besides, it’d been years since she’d been ice fishing. In fact, the last time she could remember going had been a competition Uncle Marcus had taken her to on Mille Lacs Lake when she was eight.
“Yeah, ice fishing. Is that so surprising?” he asked, arching his dark brow innocently. “Why, what did you think I was going to say?”
Not going to touch that bait with a ten-foot pole. “I think ice fishing sounds great!” Ice fishing with you is a horrible idea. It was bad enough rolling around with Cole on the mat for the last two hours. Now he wanted to stick the two of them in a little fish house together? Was he trying to break her? Yes, he was, the thought hit her with sudden clarity. Well, it wasn’t going to work. She wasn’t one of his simpering cage bangers, helpless to resist the charms of the mighty Cole Easton. “There’s a great place a few hours from here Uncle Marcus used to take me to. They have a house and poles we can rent. I’ll call and make sure something is available.” She glanced up at the clock on the wall and then back at him. “I’m assuming since we’re getting such a late start, you’ll want to be spending the night, right?”
Katie wasn’t sure what possessed her to up the ante like that. Perhaps she’d taken the bluff too far. If she was expecting Cole to tip his hand, she was sorely mistaken. Butterflies erupted in her stomach at the wicked grin that spread across his handsome face. Steady, girl, she coached her goddess.
“Absolutely,” he answered without a moment’s hesitation, his voice a dark, velvety rasp that sent a shiver of goose bumps prickling up her arms.
“Do you prefer to be on the top or bottom?”
“Excuse me?” Katie’s head whipped up as she stepped into the fish house, smacking it on the doorway. Her winter hat softened the blow but it still stung like a bad word.
Cole winced, giving her a that’s gotta hurt grimace. “The bunk beds. Do you like the top or the bottom?”
She wished he’d quit with the insinuating remarks already. Well, two could play at that game. “I’m good with either one, but it’s going to be a tight fit for you.” Boom. Roasted.
Cole’s smug, shit-eating grin momentarily froze and was immediately replaced by something darker—something much more primal. He muttered a curse under his breath and snatched the winter cap off his head, tossing it on the bottom bunk. He scrubbed his hands through his hair as if the cap was itching him. When he turned back toward her, his dark hair looked as wild and untamed as the man himself. “Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. I’m a master of small places.” Unzipping his coat, he shed that, too, leaving it on the bed.
“Then you don’t mind being on the bottom?” she asked innocently.
His brow arched, a flirtatious grin tugging at his top lip. “Not as long as you don’t mind getting on top.”
Her cheeks warmed and Katie turned away, before he could see the telltale color of her discomfort. It was useless, bantering with this man. He had no shame. Walking over to the table, she set down her duffel bag packed with overnight essentials, and placed the rented fishing poles on top of it. She took a quick survey of the fish house. Wow, it was lot smaller than she remembered. Then again, she wasn’t eight, and the man she’d shared it with wasn’t a mammoth. She’d rented the largest one they had available. There hadn’t been much to choose from on such short notice. A heater was mounted to the far left wall and a small stove sat near the right. The bunk beds lined the far back wall, and a table with chairs filled the center of the shack. Four trap doors were positioned near the four corners of the fish house. She remembered that beneath those hinged doors would be the predrilled ice holes.
Stepping up behind her, Cole lifted one of the miniature poles and looked at it skeptically. “So how exactly does this work?”
Katie laughed mockingly. “Don’t tell me you need instructions on how to handle your pole.”
Cole took another step closer, trapping her between the table and a wall of solid muscle. She swore she felt the rumble of his throaty chuckle against her back as he pressed in tighter. “What if I did? Could you help me out?” His breath brushed the lobe of her ear not covered by her stocking cap, skating a heated trail down her neck. She shivered at the contrast of warmth against her chilled flesh.
“I’m pretty sure you’d be disappointed. It’s been a long time since I’ve touched a pole.” Last night excluded. Suddenly, this game didn’t seem so much fun anymore.
“Mehh . . .” He shrugged behind her, his big body brushing against her shoulder blades. “It’s like riding a bike, right?”
Katie couldn’t help but laugh. “Is that so? I’m not sure what bikes you’ve been riding—”
“Tandem, mostly. Not as fond of solo.”
Another bubble of laughter rose up inside her. “Stop it.” She shoved her shoulder back, playfully bumping it into his chest. “We’re here to
fish.”
“Isn’t that what we were talking about? Fishing?”
She rolled her eyes and stepped to the side, escaping the furnace behind her. Who needed a heater with Cole in here? “Yeah, for crappie, not trouser trout.”
“Good to know.”
He laughed. The deep masculine rumble was infectious, and before she knew it, she was laughing with him. Who would have thought the Beast of the East was such a cajoling rogue. If she wasn’t careful, this champion fighter would lay some serious ground and pound to her defenses. Getting away with Cole, holed up in this little cabin on the lake, she found pushing Carter out of her mind was easier than she thought. She was safe here. No one knew where they were, and it wasn’t until that burden of fear fully lifted that she realized just how much it’d been weighing on her.
Cole turned on the heater and the little unit rumbled to life. Not that they needed it, she was already overheated. Pulling off her winter cap, she tugged the hair binder off her wrist and held it in her teeth as she twisted up her hair. Feeling Cole’s eyes on her, she turned toward him. “What?” she asked, the word muffled as she spoke through clenched teeth.
“Nothing,” Cole answered innocently, though the sexy grin on his handsome face said anything but.
He busied himself unpacking the grocery bags, but the damage was already done. The butterflies had woken again, their fluttering warming her core. Though he hadn’t mentioned it, more than once today, she’d caught his gaze straying to her neck. She knew he was thinking about last night. What had happened, and would have happened if Carter wouldn’t have—
“So, Marcus loves ice fishing, huh? I gotta tell you, I’m looking forward to discovering the appeal.”
“You might really enjoy it. Many people find it cathartic.”
She shed her winter coat, shoved the hat into the sleeve along with her matching mittens, and crossed the small floor, tossing it onto the bed above Cole’s. “It forces a person to slow down—to unwind and relax.”
Cole pulled a bottle of brandy out of a paper sack and saluted her with a wink. “Sounds good to me.”
Seriously? What are you, the freaking fish whisperer?” Katie shook her head as Cole pulled up his tenth crappie in an hour.
He laughed, grabbed hold of the flailing, slimy thing, and unhooked it like a pro. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear he’d been fishing his whole life. Was there anything this guy wasn’t great at?
“You laugh now. We’ll see who’s laughing when you’re cleaning all those things.” She made a disgusted face, and he chuckled again.
He tossed the fish into a large water-filled bucket and then grabbed the towel draped over the handle. “It’s just beginner’s luck,” he said, drying his hands. “If you want to come closer, I’ll let you hold my pole.” His brow arched in invitation.
Come closer? If she sat any closer, she’d be in his lap. Hold his pole indeed . . . Cole Easton was an incorrigible flirt. Katie scoffed, “I can catch my own fish, thank you very much.”
“Well, you better hurry up,” he teased, “cuz we’re like ten and oh.”
“Since when is this a competition?” she feigned indignantly. “I don’t remember agreeing to that. Besides, we haven’t even made a wager.”
He thought about it for a minute, seeming contemplative as he boldly let his gaze travel over her. Like he needed to think about it. She’d bet her ass she knew damn well what he was going to say—
“If I win, you have to clean these fish.”
—and that was not it. She must have made a face, because he busted out laughing.
“I’m not taking that bet!” she said. “You’re already ten fish ahead of me. I say the winner has to make me supper while I sit back and drink his brandy.”
“Oh, you think so, do you?”
“As a matter of fact, I do. You deserve the whole ice fishing experience. I wouldn’t want to cheat you out of a single moment of fun.” And it had been fun—spending the afternoon out here with him. It was exactly what she needed, getting away from the stress and anxiety of the world, where her biggest worry was who could catch the most fish.
“I’m not so sure you’re going to think it’s such a bargain when you have to eat it.”
Lord, his smile made her weak in the knees. The man was irresistible. Worse, he knew it. Setting his pole aside, Cole got up and went to the cooler sitting beside the table. Grabbing a red solo cup, he scooped some ice from the bag and pulled out a can of vanilla Coke. After setting it on the table, he broke the seal on the brandy and filled it part of the way before topping it off with the Coke.
His arresting eyes locked on her as he swirled the glass, mixing the drink, and then tipped it to his lips. He tasted it, then took another long pull from the glass before adding the rest of the Coke to dilute it. “Here you go.”
“Thanks,” she said, accepting the glass. “My royal taste tester,” she teased.
“I’m not used to making drinks for someone half my size. Too many of those and you’ll be completely shit-faced.”
Katie laughed, “Good to know you’re not trying to take advantage of me.” She lifted the glass to her lips. The carbonation kissed her tongue as the buttery vanilla flavor teased her taste buds. It wasn’t too strong, just enough to warm a path to her stomach.
“Oh, I never said that,” he teased, giving her a lopsided grin. “But when I take advantage of you, I want you to be able to remember it.”
She swallowed wrong and started to cough. Cole’s amused smile told her that was exactly the reaction he’d been expecting. Without another word, he fixed himself a drink and began setting up to clean the fish and cook supper. The ice house was minimally stocked with a cabinet that contained the bare essentials for cooking a modest fish fry—a pan, a cutting board, knives, a bowl—just the basics.
Cole had gotten the food at the store while she’d stayed home to make reservations and pack a bag. Apparently he planned well, because after taking a sip of his own drink, he set it on the table and pulled out a box of Shore Lunch from the grocery sack, two large baking potatoes, and an onion. Seriously? She’d been teasing him, having no idea he’d planned on making supper.
“You’re really going to cook for me,” she said, astonished.
Cole glanced up at her from the table, knife in hand, and potato on the cutting board. “Correction. I’m attempting to cook for you. I make no promises.”
“What would you have done if we hadn’t caught anything?”
He shrugged. “Taken you out to supper. Though you’ll probably be wishing I had soon enough.”
Katie’s chest tightened at the swelling emotion, and her smile faltered at the realization of what that feeling was. I’m falling for Cole Easton . . .
“Hey, you don’t have to look so terrified. It may not be great, but I’m not going to poison you.”
The lightness in his voice didn’t match the concern in his eyes. He was far too perceptive of her. “It’s not that,” she said.
He set the knife down and came around the table, crouching down in front of her. “Then what is it?”
She couldn’t very well tell him, so she modified the truth. “It’s just . . . no one has ever cooked for me before. I know it sounds stupid, but—”
He silenced her by placing a chaste kiss on her forehead. Leaning back just enough to pin her with his vibrant blue stare that never failed to heat the blood in her veins, he whispered, “I’m glad. That means I get to be your first.”
Shocked speechless, Katie just stared at him as he stood and made his way back to the cutting board.
“Oh my gosh! This is the best fish I’ve had in . . . I seriously can’t remember.”
Cole smiled at her. “You probably can’t remember because you drank three brandy Cokes, and one of them was mine,” he teased. “I told you that you should let me mix them for you. That shit’ll sneak up and bite you in the ass.”
“But you were busy with the fish,” she tried to explain. Okay, ma
ybe she should have paced herself a little better, but she’d been so rattled by her revelation, and that feeling in her chest wouldn’t go away. She’d thought perhaps a few drinks might chase the unwanted emotion back to wherever it’d come from. No such luck. She wasn’t drunk yet, but if she wasn’t careful, she’d find herself well on her way to Lushville. Cole was still nursing his first glass, well his second, because she’d drunk his first one.
He watched her with an amused smirk.
“What?”
“Nothing. I was just thinking I probably should have bought a bottle of ibuprofen because I have a feeling you’re going to need it in the morning.”
“Stop it. I’m just fine.”
“All right.” He held up his hands in surrender. “If you say so.”
“Why did you buy this, anyway? I thought you didn’t drink hard liquor anymore.”
“I don’t—in public. I’ve gotten myself into too much trouble thinking I was ‘just fine.’” He mocked her with air quotes.
She snorted, planting her elbows on the table and leaning forward with rapt interest. “Ooo . . . a genuine MMA bad boy—ice fishing and cooking me supper. I don’t buy it,” she declared, folding her arms over her chest and kicking back in her chair. “You’re far too disciplined and controlled . . .”
Cole laughed. “If you’re goading me to tell you my secrets, it’s not going to work. I’m not that drunk, Kat.”
“If I can guess, will you tell me? Oh, I know! Let’s play Never Have I Ever. My friends and I used to play it in college, though I’m pretty sure the guys were just trying to get us wasted so they could take advantage of us.”
Katie’s hand flew up to cover her mouth as Cole’s brow arched questioningly. Crap, did she just say that out loud? Perhaps Cole was right, and those brandy Cokes were catching up with her. His top lip twitched, as if he was struggling to hold back a smile, while amusement danced in those brilliant blue eyes.
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