“Well?” Angel asked.
Cole grinned and shook his head. He’d known the minute he walked through the door tonight, she’d be all over him for details. “She’s fine.” He walked further into the dimly lit kitchen. He grabbed Angel around the waist, pulling her nightgown-clad body up against his and kissed her. Her arms came around his neck, and he deepened the kiss. When he finally lifted his head, she pushed back on his shoulders and looked past him.
“Where is she? Did you leave her at the clubhouse? I’m not sure that’s any place for her, honey.”
Cole stepped over to the counter and picked up the glass of milk Angel had been pouring. He chugged down half of it before turning to answer her. “She’s not at the clubhouse.”
“Well, where is she?”
“She’s with Crash.”
“Crash?”
“Um-hmm,” he replied and watched as a thoughtful expression formed on his wife’s face. He took another gulp of milk and asked, “What’s that look?”
Her beautiful green eyes came to him. “What look?”
“That look.”
She shrugged. “It could work, that’s all.”
“What could work?” He frowned and took another gulp of milk.
“The two of them.”
Cole about spewed the milk. “In what universe could those two work?”
“Cole.” She rolled her eyes and turned to walk away. He grabbed her hand, pulling her back.
“No, no. This I’ve got to hear.”
“He’s grounded. Nothing shakes Crash. He’s rock solid.”
“Yeah, so?”
“So, I think she needs someone like that. Her drama won’t fly with him.”
“I’ve got news for you, baby. It won’t fly with most men.”
“Yes, but Crash won’t let it phase him. She could throw a tantrum, and he’d just smile and shake his head.”
Cole didn’t say anything, thinking over the points she was making.
“Am I right?” she pressed.
“Maybe,” he half-heartedly agreed, mostly because he didn’t want to admit she was right.
“And if she’s not as tough as you think she is, if deep-down she’s more the scared little girl I think she is, he’s going to make her feel safe.”
“That is why she came to us, to feel safe.”
“They’re going to be together twenty-four-seven. She’s going to start to trust him, to depend on him. That’s going to affect her, whether she wants it to or not.”
“What are we talking about here, some kind of hero-worship complex?”
“Maybe.”
“Christ, when did I marry a psychologist?”