Текст книги "Echoes of Scotland Street"
Автор книги: Samantha Young
Соавторы: Samantha Young
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It was overwhelming meeting the tribe.
Even more overwhelming was that uneasiness I’d been feeling every now and then, an uneasiness that churned in my gut and came at me in waves as I met Cole’s friends and family.
Trying to shrug it off, I wandered over to the bar to order a glass of wine, hoping to sneak in a few minutes to myself.
I knew the instant he neared me.
I felt him.
From my peripheral I saw Cole slide in next to me. I turned to watch as he leaned against the bar. Tonight he looked even more amazing than usual, in a crisp white dress shirt rolled up at the sleeves, a fitted black waistcoat, and black suit trousers. A quirky silver pocket watch was attached to the waistcoat. He was wearing a leather aviator watch along with the black leather bracelets he always wore. For some reason that watch and those bracelets were incredibly sexy on him. Perhaps it was because it drew attention to his wrists, which then drew attention to his strong forearms, which then drew attention to his tattoos, which then . . .
You get the picture.
My eyes drifted up to his face, and heat instantly suffused me. His greedy gaze was roaming over me in a way that was blatantly sexual and at the same time consternated. Our eyes met.
“So, all I’ve heard tonight from my family is how bloody lovely Shannon MacLeod is.”
I flushed inwardly with pleasure, glad they’d liked me, but I didn’t respond to him. I didn’t really know what he wanted me to say.
No response was the wrong way to go, because it clearly exasperated him. “Want to tell me why I’ve not met this version of you? No . . . wait.” He leaned in close, those green eyes hot with anger. “I have met her, but she was fifteen.”
I looked away quickly, willing the bartender to appear.
Seconds later I heard a frustrated growl and then I felt Cole melt away from my side. I let go a huge sigh of relief only to choke on the remnants of it at the sight of Hannah hurrying toward me. She frowned as she came to a stop in front of me.
“What was that?” she asked, gesturing in the direction of where I assumed Cole had headed.
“Nothing.”
Hannah narrowed her eyes. “Cole is my best friend and he tells me everything, so I know he came on to you and you shot him down. I also know you shot him down in a probably not very nice way because of his reaction. Cole spends most of his life horizontal he’s so bloody laid-back, so it takes a lot to make him this frustrated and fucked off. It’s not like him.”
“I only said the truth.” I defended myself because I didn’t want these seemingly good people not to like me. “I told him I knew he was a player and that I wasn’t interested.”
Hannah looked taken aback. “You’re kidding me, right?”
I shook my head.
“Cole? A player?” She guffawed. “Are you high?”
I grew very still, not liking her reaction at all. She smiled, but there was disbelief in the look. “Shannon, I’ve known Cole Walker since he was a shy fourteen-year-old that could barely say two words to me. Cole is definitely not a player.”
I struggled to deal with what she was saying, and I doubted I kept that struggle out of my expression. “He’s such a bad boy,” I squeaked out.
She chuckled. “No way.”
“But . . . but he’s so cocky and flirty . . .” I trailed off, that uneasiness in my gut starting to make sense all of a sudden.
“Well, he’s spent his formative years surrounded by men incapable of restraint when it comes to flirting outrageously with their wives. Each one of them”—she gestured around the room—“is a cocky, arrogant, overconfident bugger.” She grinned. “But you won’t find men who are more loyal or loving to their wives.” Her expression turned serious. “We’ve all been through a lot. As has Cole. Like us, he knows what’s important. And he’s been deeply influenced by the men in his life. Cole’s never been a fan of casual. With the exception of Jessica and probably some alcohol-induced one-night stands, Cole has only ever been in relationships. He’s looking for the right woman to settle down with. He’s a romantic.” Her eyes glimmered with deep affection. “He’s also one of the best men I’ve ever, ever, ever met. I love him dearly, and . . . I only want the very best for him,” she concluded pointedly.
I felt awful as soon as she finished speaking. Absolutely, truly awful.
“I don’t respect players like you. I don’t like you. I don’t trust you. There’s nothing behind that charming smile but empty promises. You have nothing real to offer me or anyone who finds herself a victim of your flirtation. The difference between them and me, however, is that I’m smart enough to see you for what you really are . . . Nothing.”
“Forget the hilariously random analogy that didn’t even make a lot of sense but totally did anyway. What the hell are you talking about?”
“Cole. Bad boy.”
“Right.”
“What?”
“Nothing. I’ll let you figure this one out on your own, you bloody numb nut.”
I squeezed my eyes shut tight at the memories. “I am such a bitch.”
Feeling Hannah’s hand resting on my arm, I opened my eyes to find her staring at me with a surprising amount of kindness. “Somehow I don’t believe that’s true.”
And on that enigmatic comment she walked away, leaving me to drown my guilt in a large glass of red wine.
CHAPTER 8
O nce when I was ten I had helped my granddad throw out some old things because Gran was doing her yearly spring clean and somehow Granddad’s belongings always ended up taking the brunt of the clear-out.
My granddad had books everywhere. I remembered grabbing books that were piled randomly in the corner of the sitting room and asking him if they were to be thrown out. His response was an immediate and very adamant no. I made a face and asked him why since no one else had probably even heard of the books with their very boring covers. Granddad had tutted at me and told me that inside the books were the best stories he’d ever read, and that I shouldn’t judge them solely on their bad marketing.
I hadn’t really understood at the time, but I guessed he was quite literally telling me not to judge a book by its cover.
An old cliché.
A cliché it might have been but one lesson I should never have forgotten. After Hannah’s revelations about Cole’s true character, I left his party quickly. I barely slept that night¸ consumed with guilt for judging Cole on what happened to be bad marketing from my perspective. Amid the guilt was regret and something bigger. Something a little like panic.
* * *
The next day at work I didn’t know how I was supposed to act around Cole. It seemed it was back to business as usual for him, because he didn’t come out to greet me when I pushed open the front door of the studio.
Simon did, looking a little worse for wear as he took his coffee from me. “Thank fuck,” he muttered. “I started in on the whisky after five beers last night.” He took a sip of his coffee and frowned at me. “Where did you run off to?”
I shrugged, already uncomfortable. “Home. Headache.”
He gave me an incredulous look.
With a heavy sigh I told him the truth. “I think I may have made some not very nice assumptions about Cole.”
“Has this got anything to do with the cold war between you two?”
I nodded. “And now I don’t know how to fix it.”
“Why not start with just being nice to him?”
“Nice?”
“Nice.”
Not sure how to go about making that change after being such a bitch, I looked down at my coffee to avoid Simon’s gaze. I felt ashamed of my behavior these last few weeks. How the heck did I go about trying to make amends?
I contemplated my coffee. “What does Cole drink?”
Simon chuckled. “A cortado. One sugar.”
“The coffee shop is right around the corner,” I mused.
“It is.” Simon grinned. “I’ll man the desk for you.”
I returned his smile with a grateful one of my own before shrugging into my jacket and hurrying out to the coffee shop. Not even five minutes later I was back in the studio. As soon as I stepped inside with Cole’s cortado, Simon winked at me and left the reception for his workroom.
I looked down at Cole’s coffee and felt the butterflies in my belly go wild. Bolstering myself against nerves, I threw my shoulders back and headed toward the workrooms.
Stopping in the doorway of Cole’s room, I almost completely lost my nerve. He was sitting with one ankle resting on the opposite knee, his sketch pad on his lap, and his head bent, as he concentrated on what he was drawing.
He was really handsome. I knew this. I’d known this from the moment I met him, but that feeling was back—that feeling I’d had when I was fifteen years old and I was staring up into his green eyes in absolute delight. That feeling you get when you realize something special about another person and he goes from being attractive to downright kick-you-in-the-gut good-looking.
I’d learned a lot about Cole in the last few days.
He was so damn kick-you-in-the-gut good-looking now.
Catching sight of me out of the corner of his eye, Cole lifted his head in surprise.
In response to his silent question I took two steps forward and thrust the coffee at him.
He raised an eyebrow. The gesture was too sexy for words.
My hand trembled.
Cole watched the coffee cup shake with the tremor and reached out to take it from me.
Once it was in his hand I backed out of the room and practically fled down the hall.
Standing at my desk, taking in a ragged breath, I inwardly berated myself for being quite possibly the most uncool person to have ever worked in a tattoo studio.
* * *
Not even ten minutes later I had to find the nerve to face Cole again because he had a customer. I informed him of this with a warmer politeness than usual, and I could feel his curious gaze on my back as he followed me out into the reception area.
I buried my head in my work, sighing a huge sigh of relief when he returned to his workroom.
An hour later, my mind still mostly on the recent turn of events, I was more than taken aback when the front doorbell rang, signaling a customer, only for me to look up and be faced with Cole’s recent ex, Jessica.
She strode to the desk with her usual exuberance. “Hi, Shannon. Is Cole free?”
Confused, I shook my head. “He’s got a client.”
“I’ll just wait.”
“Um . . . okay . . .”
She smiled and planted her bottom on one of the leather couches and made the impression of someone who was settling in.
Cole had broken up with her . . . right?
For the next forty minutes I attempted to put my head into my work, but every now and then my eyes would lift to check on whether the young blonde was still there.
She was.
As I studied her I decided she was definitely all wrong for Cole. Too young, too bubbly and in your face, and much, much too blond.
Not that I was biased or anything.
Hearing Cole’s voice approaching, I waited curiously to see how this scene would unfold. Appearing in the main studio, Cole was too busy discussing aftercare with his customer to notice Jessica in the waiting area. He brought the guy over to me and while I smiled, I subtly nodded in Jessica’s direction.
Cole flicked his eyes over and was about to return them to me before he did a double take. His eyebrows immediately drew together.
Handing Cole’s customer his card back, I bade him good-bye, as did Cole, and waited for the gentleman to leave.
“She’s been waiting for you for the past forty minutes,” I told him under my breath.
Cole appeared frustrated. Exhaling, he wandered over to her, not even halfway to reaching her before she jumped up off the couch and dashed toward him. She threw her arms around him like a little girl and Cole staggered back, immediately gripping her elbows to gently push her away. “Jessica, what are you doing here?” he asked.
“We need to talk,” she said, batting her pretty eyes at him.
She was good. I’d give her that.
Apparently not good enough. “Jessica, we said all we had to say.”
“But I miss you.” She went into instant begging mode that raised my hackles. “I can do better, I promise.”
It took everything within me not to scream, “Have some self-respect!”
I was beginning to think that maybe, perhaps, more than possibly, Jessica was indeed every bit the cling-on Cole had accused her of being.
“Jessica, you don’t have to do anything.” Cole continued being nice, which I thought was decent of him considering most guys would have bounced her arse out of the door by now. “We’re just not right for each other, sweetheart.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “We are. I love you.”
My mouth fell open.
Yup. Total cling-on.
A red warning sign began blinking in my mind’s eye.
Cole seemed as stunned as I felt. “Jessica . . .”
The urge to rescue him overtook me. “Cole,” I called out. “Simon needs you in the back.”
His startled gaze flew to mine, relief in them. “Right, of course.” He turned to Jessica. “Look, this is a really bad time. I’m sorry if you got the wrong impression, but we’re just not . . . going to happen.”
When she continued to stare at him incredulously, I found myself slinking out from behind the desk and hurrying over to the front entrance. The bells tinkled as I yanked it open, drawing Jessica’s attention.
She caught my look, and her jaw hardened at the silent point I was making. With an overdone sniffle she hurried out of the studio, clutching her bag to her chest as though we’d just killed her puppy and refused to apologize.
I shut the door behind her and mouthed, Wow, at Cole before heading back behind my desk.
Cole cautiously approached me, his expression filled with suspicion. I returned his stare with an innocent one of my own.
“Thank you,” he said with not a tiny amount of wariness.
“You’re welcome,” I said, my tone kind.
He blinked rapidly and it was clear his suspicion had only increased.
Cole stared at me for a few seconds longer, but I managed to maintain perfect politeness.
Backing away slowly, Cole held my stare, silently questioning me with every step he took. He turned around, but then just before he stepped into the hallway he looked back at me, confused.
I gave him nothing and he disappeared into the hall. I broke out into a massive, amused grin, a grin I quickly hid when Cole’s head popped back around the door. The hilarious sight of his seemingly floating head was made only more entertaining by the distrust in his narrowed eyes. Schooling my features into innocent politeness, I endured a short staring match with Cole’s head before he gave up.
His head disappeared and I began to shake with silent laughter.
* * *
“You’re freaking me out a little bit,” Cole said the next morning as he took the coffee I offered him.
Although I quite enjoyed the fact that I had him feeling off balance, I gave him the speech I’d prepared for the moment he called me out on my unusual behavior. “I’ve decided you’re right. I’m sick of acting like a brat. I’m sorry for what I said. I don’t know you. It was uncalled for and unprofessional of me.”
Cole didn’t even try to hide his surprise, and I liked that about him. I was beginning to realize that Cole was pretty transparent. He didn’t play games like most people. He wore his mood on his sleeve for everyone to see, and most of the time his thoughts were out there too. “Wow. Did not see that coming.”
I grimaced, feeling unsure all of a sudden. I’d been holding on to Hannah’s assessment of Cole’s character, using it to assure myself that we’d move on like nothing had ever happened. “Does that mean you accept my apology?”
He stared at me a second and I think he did it to make me squirm. It worked. He finished off, however, with a nod. “Of course. Thanks for the coffee.”
His response was mature; it was what I thought I wanted, but I walked out of his room weighed down with disappointment. He’d accepted my apology with all the warmth of a wet bath towel.
Muttering under my breath, I berated myself. I did have only myself to blame if Cole wasn’t really feeling all that friendly toward the woman who completely annihilated his character without an ounce of proof to back up said annihilation.
“Making nice with the boss?”
I let out a startled squeak and spun around to find Rae mere inches from me. “Jesus!”
Rae laughed and pushed me gently down the hallway and into the main studio away from Cole’s ears.
“I take it you were listening?” I glowered at her as I headed toward my desk.
“Of course.”
“You are a nosy pain in the arse.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m a horrible flatmate. Now fucking spill.”
I lowered my voice. “Hannah informed me that I had the wrong impression about Cole. She told me he isn’t a player or a bad boy after all.”
“Took you long enough.”
“You could have told me.”
“And where is the fun in that, pray tell?”
I was not amused. “You know, there are times when you’re a bitch and then other times when you are a bitch.”
Rae sighed in exasperation. “Look, you need to learn how not to bring your past into your present. It’s a lesson I had to learn on my own, and having someone baby you through that isn’t going to teach you what you really need to discover for yourself. If you fuck this up—whatever this is with Cole—you’ll learn never to do it again. But I’m hoping there is a better lesson here.”
“And what’s that?”
“Someone tried to take something from you. You didn’t let them. Why start now? Especially when it comes to the things you want, and the things you need.” She smacked her hand down on the counter with an abruptness that startled me. “Enough of this Miyagi crap. Point is, fight for what you want, and while you’re doing that I’d like an egg mayo sandwich without that fucking cress shit on it this time.”
I tried to keep up with the change in subject. “It’s three hours until your lunch break.”
“I’m hungry now and I’ve got a client in fifteen.”
“I get lunch for everyone at the same time. I’m not a gofer. I’m a receptionist.”
She eyed me carefully. “Sometimes your tiny height is deceiving.” And on that weird comment, Rae strode outside. I assumed in search of a sandwich.
CHAPTER 9
I n high school I took art class every year, and a lot of still-life drawing is involved in the Scottish curriculum. Luckily for me I liked those classes, yet there were moments when I’d be sketching a flower or flowers stuck inside a skull, or a stuffed animal, or even a person in life drawing class, when I’d step back from my work and to my disappointment I’d see that it wasn’t quite right. There was something lacking, something that was stopping it from being brought to life.
If it was a sketch of a person, my problem was usually in the hands. Hands were so difficult to draw and it took me forever to get them right. There were times I just couldn’t manage it, and every time I stepped back from the sketch it fell short because of the bloody hands.
That was a little how I felt about my interaction with Cole.
Things were definitely better between us, but it was just sort of friendly on his part. For some reason his attitude completely threw me off balance. I couldn’t stop thinking about him, which I knew was ridiculous because it wasn’t as though I wanted to be in a relationship with him. I didn’t want to be in a relationship with anyone. My life here had just started and I didn’t need another man screwing up this new start.
That didn’t mean I could switch off whatever I was feeling about Cole. I went for drinks with him, Rae, the twins, Karen, Simon, and Tony and it was a really good laugh. Part of me sat there grateful that in just a few short weeks Rae had helped me build a life, with good friends and good times that helped me ignore the bloody awfulness of what I’d left behind in Glasgow. However, there was this other part of me that would glimpse Cole out of the corner of my eye, stealing glances whenever I could, and I’d feel this disappointment in my gut that all the joking and closeness he shared with the others he didn’t try to share with me.
The only thing that could take my mind off my complicated feelings was my newfound love for painting. Somehow I’d managed to keep my artwork a secret from Rae by either working outside the flat or waiting until she was occupied elsewhere. I was already working on my second landscape after having completed the one of Edinburgh at night. I knew it was probably far from the quality of professional artists, but I actually loved it. After experimenting I found I was most comfortable with broad brushstrokes and a minimal approach. I loved how this gave the cityscape energy and movement. I was hooked. I couldn’t wait for my holidays off work. I was planning on booking a last-minute budget break somewhere like Italy or Budapest or Prague—somewhere exciting where I could set myself up on a riverbank, or a café, anywhere I could just relax and draw and forget about every single thing that worried me, including Cole Walker.
* * *
A week had passed since I started being nice to Cole. It felt longer. Much, much longer. I frowned over at him while we worked. He was standing in the gallery area, showing tattoo concepts to a prospective customer, as well as going over his video portfolio for the guy. Cole was completely lost in conversation about his art and I was becoming increasingly transfixed by the animation in his face and the way his eyes were lit up. His passion for his work took Cole from a ten to an eleven, and eleven had, heretofore, never seen the light of day in my hot-guy ranking system.
As if he felt my stare, Cole suddenly looked over at me while he continued to talk and I casually smiled at him and looked in the opposite direction like I hadn’t just been caught ogling my boss.
Looking out the window, the blood beneath my cheeks hot, I wondered if he was still staring at me. I fidgeted, trying to maintain my cool.
I was just about to lower my gaze to my work in the hopes of making out like I’d just needed a break from staring at paper, when the sight of a familiar blonde out on the pavement caused me to freeze.
Jessica.
She was staring up at our signage, chewing her lip.
Oh, heck no.
I knew from Rae that Jessica hadn’t let up on Cole. She’d turned up at his flat last Thursday, and while I was with him on Friday night at the bar she had texted him a dozen or so times. Even if Rae hadn’t told me, I could see for myself that Jessica’s behavior was really starting to stress Cole out.
I’d heard of girls like her, girls who just couldn’t take no for an answer, but I’d never met one in real life. She was beginning to piss me off. Cole had had to deal with my craziness when I first arrived here only for Jessica to jump on the crazy train when I jumped off.
Well, I thought determinedly, I can make up for my craziness by getting rid of Jessica once and for all.
Utilizing my often-underused, rapid-fire typing skills, I logged on to the Internet and looked up the info I thought might be useful in taking her down. Once I had it I glanced up to see the crazy girl had decided she was coming into the studio.
I immediately hopped off my chair and hurried across the studio to Cole, hearing the bells over the door jingle just as I reached him. I practically elbowed his customer out of the way and hissed, “Everything I do next, just go with it.”
His eyebrows had just begun to rise in surprise when I lunged at him, causing his whole face to slacken with shock. On tiptoes, and having to crush my chest against him to reach him, I wrapped my arms around his neck and yanked his head down. My mouth hit his and for a few seconds he tensed in my grasp.
I pressed my lips harder against his, my legs trembling as I had to stay on tiptoe to reach his mouth.
Just like that, Cole relaxed into me, his hands coming to a gentle rest on my hips, his mouth now moving against mine.
Oh boy.
He had good lips.
Good, good lips.
And he smelled wonderful.
I had no idea a kiss without tongue could still curl your toes.
Um . . . Shannon . . .
Forcing myself to remember why I was doing this, I pulled back from him and stumbled a little as I dropped my arms and returned my feet flat to the floor.
Cole’s fingers pressed into my hips as he steadied me. “What—”
“Jessica,” I whispered. “Smile, like we’re together.”
“Excuse me,” the bewildered customer said in annoyance behind me, but he was cut off by a screeched “What the hell is going on?”
I turned around and Cole’s hands dropped from my hips. Jessica was standing by the reception desk, eyes round with horror.
“Jessica,” Cole began impatiently, but I cut him off.
“Stop stalking my boyfriend,” I said with as much menace as I could muster. I didn’t really do menacing, but I think I pulled off angry redhead well enough.
Cole grew still at my back.
Jessica, however, gasped, her hurt gaze flying to him. “Boyfriend? But . . .”
I’d so lost my patience with her crap. “How many times do you have to be told that it’s over?” I took a few steps toward her, but she didn’t back away from me like I’d hoped. “Or is this your game? You think you can bug the crap out of a guy until he gives in just to get you to stop? Well, not my guy.”
She made a huff of disbelief. “I don’t—”
“I’m not finished,” I snapped.
Her mouth clamped shut and that hurt puppy dog look was back.
My expression turned mean with calculation. “I take it you’re counting on graduating from Edinburgh College of Art?”
Confused, she nodded.
“I happen to be Professor Kris Lowery’s goddaughter. You’ll have heard of Kris, right, seeing as she’s the principal of the college?”
Jessica’s whole demeanor changed. Now she took a wary step backward.
“See, I don’t know if you’re stupid, selfish, or crazy, but I do know that harassment is beyond stressful, horrible, and downright criminal. I also know for a fact that Kris will not be happy to hear that one of her students has a report filed against her with the police for harassment. In fact, I’m thinking Kris will not like that at all.”
Jessica’s anxious gaze drifted over my head to Cole and then back to me.
I sighed, pouring every ounce of pissed-off impatience into the effect. “That look in your eyes tells me at least you’re not stupid. Just selfish, then.”
“I really like him.” She shrugged pathetically.
“Well, he’s a little preoccupied liking me, so from now on don’t call, don’t write, don’t turn up at his home, his work, or try to contact him in any way, because I’m a jealous girlfriend with a very doting godmother who will do just about anything for me. Understood?”
Flushing, Jessica nodded quickly.
“That’s your cue to leave.”
It was almost tragically comical how fast she flew out of the studio, slipping on the marble floor tiles. She had to grab on to the door to right herself, before yanking it open and fleeing the building. If she hadn’t put Cole through the ringer these last few weeks, I would almost have felt sorry for her.
I turned to face my boss and laughed at the twin looks of shock on his and his customer’s faces. “You’re welcome.”
“Is it always like this in here?” the customer said to Cole.
Eyes still on me Cole nodded. “Lately it feels like it.”
* * *
The customer left fifteen minutes later (after having booked an appointment, so we couldn’t have scared him too badly), and Cole waited until the door closed behind him before turning the full force of his inquisitive green gaze on me. “Thank you, Shannon.”
There was a question in there somewhere, but there was also warmth that pleased me beyond measure. “You’re very welcome.”
“Professor Kris Lowery? You knew that how?”
“I looked her up. Good bluff, though, eh?”
“Fantastic,” he agreed. “But why?”
“Her constant harassment was stressing you out. I felt bad for you.”
Cole leaned on the counter, creating a deeper intimacy in our proximity and thus our conversation. “About that kiss . . .”
Not wanting him to think I was expecting anything, I hurried to reassure him. “I was just trying to help you out. I don’t have a lot of friends here, Cole, and apparently you’re a good one to have. I was trying to help out a potential friend.”
His smile was kind, but there was something troubled in his eyes. “I can be your friend, Shannon. I know when you first came here I was too forward with you, with the flirting and what have you, but that was then. It won’t happen again.”
“It won’t?” I blurted out before I could control myself.
“I find you attractive,” he said carefully. “I think we both know that, but you and me . . . we’re different. We’re better as friends.”
I knew I should accept his words and move on, but I was feeling a little put out. “Different?”
“We didn’t get off to the best start because of that difference . . .”
It dawned on me what he was talking about. “Me being overly judgmental.” I deflated when I saw on his face that I’d grasped what he was trying to say.
Cole grimaced. “I don’t operate like that, and being in a relationship with someone who does would drive me nuts, and as gorgeous as you are, I don’t do casual. So friends it is.”
To my horror and surprise I felt more than a little winded by his declaration. I wanted to tell him that he’d gotten me wrong, that I had a reason for the way I treated him and that I wasn’t usually like that. However, the words got stuck in my throat when my pride kicked in.
I was not going to beg for his attention like Jessica had done.
Instead I gave him a nod of agreement. “Sure. Friends.”
“Great.” He gave me that boyish grin again, and it made my stomach twist with lust and regret. “In fact, we have the same days off, so we should do something sometime.”
“Sure,” I repeated, not actually sure I meant it at all. Did I really want to spend time with Cole outside of work when he didn’t know who I really was?
“You know I’ve wanted to go to the new prizewinner exhibit at the modern art gallery. They’ve put the winner and runners-up from the college of art graduates for the John Watson prize on display. Do you fancy coming along to it on Friday?”
I knew if I said no, if I shut him down once more, that would probably be the last time he’d make a friendly overture. So, attempting to hide my reluctance, I smiled. “Sounds good.”
