With my hair wrapped in a towel, I emerged from the bathroom, dressed in maroon sleep shorts and a matching camisole. “All done.”
My feet stopped as my eyes landed on Cole.
He’d fallen asleep in the chair.
His hat was resting on one knee and his hair was matted down. His neck and jaw were covered in stubble, and his clothes were dirty and wrinkled. He was a mess.
He was a mess and the most handsome man I’d ever seen.
Cole was simply breathtaking.
Quietly, I set down my backpack on the floor and crossed the room. “Cole.” I touched a hand to his shoulder.
He jerked awake, blinking a couple of times to clear the sleep away. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. Go take a shower and then get into bed.”
He nodded, easing up from the chair, then striding to the bathroom.
I took the towel off my hair, quickly combing it out and leaving it to air-dry. When the shower turned on, I opened the balcony door and stepped outside. The night air was cold and gave me goose bumps, but I ignored the chill and focused on my left hand.
Carefully, I slid the ring that Jamie had given me the day we’d gotten engaged off my finger. Then I slid off the simple band he’d given me on our wedding day.
I’ll always love you, Jamie, but it’s time to let these go.
I couldn’t wear his rings anymore.
Not when I was falling in love with Cole.
I was just sliding the balcony door closed when the bathroom door opened.
“I feel like a new man.”
“Good.” I had a smile on my face when I turned around, but it faltered as Cole crossed the room.
He was towel drying his hair, wearing nothing but a pair of black pajama pants that hung low—unbelievably low—on his hips.
My breath didn’t just hitch, it vanished. Every molecule of oxygen evaporated with a single glance.
Because Cole was cut—really cut. His arms were so chiseled, the dips between his muscles resembled the mountain valleys we’d seen earlier on our hike. Hours wouldn’t be long enough to trace all of those dips. His chest was dusted with just a bit of hair, but plenty to entertain my fingers for days. And his abs belonged on the cover of a romance novel. I’d expected his stomach to be flat. His T-shirts and polos were never puffed out around the middle, not even after a large meal. But Cole’s abs weren’t flat—they were ripped. The skin covering the muscle was so lean his stomach was the definition of a washboard.
If I knew who’d invented karate, I’d send them a thank-you note.
Cole dropped the towel and I snapped my eyes to the floor, trying to hide the fact that I’d just been drooling over his upper body.
“I don’t suppose you have any painkillers in that massive purse of yours.”
“Sure,” I panted, remembering to breathe again. My arms led the way to my purse on the bed, digging frantically for the pill bottle at the bottom. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” He popped the cap, shook out some pills and grabbed one of the water bottles I’d brought along.
The cords of his throat mesmerized me as he tipped the bottle back to his lips and started gulping. As if I were watching the water on its path, my eyes traveled down his throat, skimming over his collarbone and down the center line that cut between his pecs and stomach. I watched it flow all the way down to the V that disappeared between the waistband of his pajamas, then down a little farther, to the bulge no cotton could conceal.
Cole dropped the water bottle from his lips. I turned back to my handbag, pretending to organize it while my cheeks cooled. “Headache?” I asked, pushing things around on the bottom of my purse.
“I’ll be fine.” He set the pill bottle by the TV and rolled his neck.
He was trying to play it off, but I knew he was in pain. Setting my purse aside, I pointed to the end of my bed. “Come sit down.”
Without question, he sank into the mattress. His shoulders rolled forward as he hung his head.
I climbed on the bed behind him, staying on my knees as I scooted my way to his back. With the slightest touch, I placed my hands on his bare shoulders. A zap of electricity shot up to my elbows and the heat from his skin infused my cool fingers.
Cole tensed and the muscles in his back became even more pronounced—he’d felt that zap too.
My heart was racing but I ignored its drumming beat and began kneading my thumbs into the base of his neck.
“You don’t have to do this.”
I added more pressure. “Just close your eyes and relax.”
Cole gave me a faint nod and then hung his head again, relaxing with every passing second as I worked up and down his neck, then back and forth across his shoulders.
“Is it helping?”
He nodded. “You have magic hands.”
“If the restaurant doesn’t work out, maybe I’ll become a massage therapist.”
A quiet laugh came from deep in his chest, the rumble sending tingles skittering over my forearms. “Talk to me about something. Your voice is soothing.”
My hands paused. No one had ever complimented my voice before. It was funny how a little bit of his praise made me like something about myself I hadn’t really considered special before. So if my voice would help soothe Cole’s headache after a long day of literally hauling me around, I’d read him my grocery list. “What do you want me to talk about?”
“Anything. How about your family? Are you close with your parents?”
The thought of them warmed my heart. “I am. We don’t get to see each other much but I talk to them both a couple times a week. And they always come down for Kali’s and
