One Bossy Dare

“He burst into tears,” I say quietly.

The amusement on his face vanishes.

“Tears? He cried over a bad cup of coffee?”

I glance down as the memory returns in vivid, painful detail.

That only brings the crown of my head closer to Cole’s face. It’s the most natural thing in the world when his lips brush my hair and he breathes me in.

I take a deep, halting breath, loving how his chest swells, relishing the moment before I hurry back to the story.

Neither of us should make more of this than it is.

We’re just two people enjoying a splendid Hawaiian afternoon.

“Turns out, Dad got laid off from the job he had for twenty years before he came home that evening. My mom was a stay-at-home mother at the time. He was scared.” I lick my lips softly. “I guess some men tie their self-worth to their livelihoods, so losing the job was a huge deal. But I realized if I hadn’t messed with his coffee...he might have held it together. He wouldn’t have had a breakdown.”

I pause, tingling as Cole lays his chin softly over my hair.

“There are lessons in pain,” he whispers knowingly. “Especially the kind that’s so innocent. You didn’t mean to hurt him.”

“Yeah—and that’s how I learned how powerful a good cup of coffee can be. I knew it had to be when a bad cup could be so devastating. Oh, and when my mom came and sat down beside him, she picked up the cup, sipped it, and said ‘This is different. Like sea salt caramel without the caramel. I like it.’ Crazy part is, she wasn’t joking. So I also learned that people can have drastically different tastes.”

I look up into his sky-blue eyes, fixed on me now, bright and protective and safe.

“The guilt ate at me, of course,” I continue. “I apologized until I was blue in the face, but the man just wanted a break—one tiny little break—and I had to shit up his coffee with salt. I had to make it up to him. I spent years trying to brew him the best cup of cheap drip coffee he’d ever had. Like I could somehow make it good enough to forgive what I’d done. To forgive myself, maybe.”

Cole chuckles softly, his big chest vibrating against me.

“If that’s the worst thing you ever did to your old man, I’m sure he forgave you,” he says.

“He did, but it’s not the point. I made one of the worst days of his life worse. I saw how big the little things can get when you’re already feeling crappy.”

“I would have been damn lucky if my parents showed that much emotion, for what it’s worth. They were stiff, no-nonsense people,” he says slowly, turning his attention back to the churning ocean. “They didn’t spend time with me the way I do with Dess. For them, my life was planned from the time I could walk, learning to take over what was then Noble Bean when the time came.” He sighs.

God help me.

My heart bleeds a little for Cole.

“I’m sure it wasn’t easy,” I whisper.

“It wasn’t all bad. I grew up comfortably and my future was clear. I accepted having my life hitched to a legacy.” He pauses, inhaling me again like he needs the scent of my hair. “This place may fall apart if and when Destiny takes over, but I stood at my father’s funeral years ago, struggling to care. When the delayed grief hit, it was more like I’d never had a father than if I’d just lost my dad.”

Again, my heart nosedives. Knowing he’s had at least two big losses in life must be partly why he’s so closed off.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s not your life and I’m not asking for tears. Especially not in this beautiful place where it feels like a sin not to smile,” he says sternly.

He takes the brew pipe and pulls one last sip from it before passing it to me, caressing my face as he does.

Those incandescent blue gems in his face catch my eyes again. His hand goes from softly skimming my cheek to cupping my face, his fingers relishing my heat.

Oh, hell.

Then that sparkling gaze drops from my eyes to my lips.

There’s something feral in his expression.

Something wild.

Something that wants to taste me with teeth.

I stretch my legs out, feeling the breeze, suddenly aware of how wet I am.

Just in case, I place my hand over the brew pipe and push it toward the sand next to me. I’m not ruining this by getting burned if it’s still hot.

He must read my mind, bringing his other hand to my face and inhaling sharply.

God, I love how his breath trembles. Like it’s taking his entire soul to hold back from turning me over, hiking up my dress, tearing off my panties, and taking me right here where anyone can see.