She wasn’t used to fancy coffee. But she certainly wasn’t going to say no. “Thanks. That smells great.”
She followed him to the living room. Even though the storm raged outside, and she could see it through the windows, there was warm light from a tall lamp and the flicker of the gas fireplace. It threw some heat and Brooklyn picked a chair near the fire, settling into it with a sigh. It was so incredibly comfortable she nearly sighed again. Cole sat on the sofa opposite her and lifted his mug to taste his coffee.
Marvin went up to the fireplace, stared at the flames for a moment, and then turned around twice before flopping down in front of it.
Brooklyn laughed and looked over at Cole. “That’s it. He’s made himself at home for the duration.”
“Good,” Cole d
ecreed. “And how about you?”
She smiled faintly. Cole looked delectable in his slightly damp trousers and thick-knit sweater. “I’m getting there. But I feel a little odd being here. It’s a gorgeous house, Cole. I keep feeling I’ll break something expensive.”
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll buy another.” He flashed her his grin and she smiled in return, but only for a moment.
“Yes, but you see, that just highlights how different our lives are.”
He shrugged. “Does it matter? I mean, it’s only money.”
She stared down in her cup for a moment before looking up and meeting his gaze again. “The people who generally say that are the ones who have lots of it,” she countered. “At one point, my family owned this whole island. They had to sell most of it for financial reasons. For a lot of people, money means freedom. Freedom to choose what sort of life they’ll have. The less money, the more limited the choices.”
“I realize that.” His voice had softened. “I just meant that I want you to be comfortable and not worry about how much something here costs.”
“I know that. It just...got my hackles up a bit.” She gave a little laugh. “Pride. I still have some, apparently.”
“You sure do.” He drank more of his coffee. “Why don’t you sit over here with me? The heat from the fire will still reach you, and it feels weird talking to you way over there.”
The room was very large and it did seem as if there was a lot of space between them. She probably shouldn’t, but she got up and moved over to the sofa, sitting at the other end and tucking her feet up beneath her. “Better?”
“Much.” His soft eyes met hers. “I’m very glad you’re here, Brooklyn.”
A gust of wind rattled the window and they both looked over. The window was streaked with rain and the beach grasses were waving furiously.
“It seems so strange being inside with power while that’s going on out there,” she remarked.
“Ernest was smart and had the generator wired in. With only two houses on the island, I’m guessing it’d be the last on the list to have power restored. You could go days without it here.”
She nodded. “One time when I was small, we got caught in a nor’easter in January. No generators on the island back then. We cooked on my grandmother’s woodstove and used oil lamps for light.” She smiled fondly at the memory. “We melted snow for water and we did puzzles and played cards. Good memories.”
“It sounds perfect,” Cole said, and she noticed his smile wasn’t quite as immediate as before.
“Did I say something wrong?”
“Oh, no, of course not. I’m just finding that every time you share a memory, I envy you your childhood a little more.”
“Yours was lonely. But then you met Branson and Jeremy.”
He nodded. “Yes, I did. And they saved me. Anything I learned about affection and loyalty and friendship, I learned from them.”
It sounded awfully sad just the same.
“I think we’re opposites,” she replied softly. “My family gave lots of love and support. But it’s the real world that’s let me down.”
“How so?”
She hesitated, and he must have sensed her discomfort, because he said, “Never mind. If you’re not comfortable talking about it, we won’t.”
It was a moment in which she could choose to trust him or not. They’d become friends, but she wasn’t yet sure what sort of friends. They’d made out on the beach and it had been glorious. But since then he’d been perfectly platonic, as she’d asked.