The Birthday List(16)

I let her go. “All right. Will you give me a minute before you send him back?”

“I’ll give you two.”

As she disappeared from the kitchen, my hands came to my cheeks and I took a few long breaths.

Dinner. This was just dinner.

Dinner with an acquaintance at my new restaurant. Cole and I could chat and make small talk while we ate. Then he’d leave and I could get back to work. Dinner didn’t mean anything. I was still Jamie’s wife. I’d always be Jamie’s wife, and there was nothing wrong with me cooking a meal for Cole.

This is just dinner.

My affirmations helped ease my anxiety but didn’t erase it entirely. So I did the next best thing to settle my racing heart—I started cooking.

I dropped my hands and went to the large, stainless-steel refrigerator. Then I pulled out the ingredients for grilled cheese sandwiches, piling food on the prep table. I’d gathered all of my supplies when the door swung open and Cole stepped into the kitchen.

“I was told to get out of her dining room if I wanted food.”

I giggled. “She has a way with customers, that one.”

He smiled and stepped up to the prep table. “I can go if this is a pain in the ass. I really did just want to say hi and check out your place.”

“You’re hungry. I’m hungry. Making you dinner is not a pain in the ass. How about a grilled cheese? They aren’t on the menu, but I’ve been told they don’t suck.”

“Considering I haven’t eaten since ten this morning, I’d eat just about anything.”

“Busy day?”

He sighed. “Busy year. Bozeman’s growing so fast that we’re a little understaffed with senior officers. I made detective last summer and it’s been hectic ever since.”

“Is that why you don’t have to wear a uniform anymore?” I waved at his casual clothes. When I’d seen him five years ago, he’d been in uniform.

“Yeah.”

I nodded and started slicing a tomato.

“Can I help?”

“I’ve got this. You can just relax.” I pointed to the stools next to the table.

Cole took his seat and rested his elbows on the table. As I cut slices off a block of cheese, his tan, sinewy forearms were right in my line of sight. On one wrist sat a watch with a huge silver face. I bet my fingers wouldn’t touch if they took the place of his watch.

My eyes wandered up from his wrists and forearms to his biceps. Cole’s arms were big but not bulky. The muscles were just perfectly defined, even underneath the cotton of his shirt. My hand would look tiny resting on his arm. My cheeks flushed when I realized I’d been staring for a moment too long.

I blinked and looked down at the table, then up at Cole’s face.

Damn. He’d caught me staring. The smirk in his eyes was unmistakable, but I didn’t look away. His eyes were too . . . fascinating.

I’d never seen green eyes like Cole’s before. The color reminded me of dried sage, and his dark, thick lashes made them even more dramatic. His face drew you in with his chiseled jaw and straight nose, but those eyes were what made you stay.

My heart was pounding as I set down the knife, but I couldn’t break away from Cole’s eyes.

And he stared right back.

Molly came bursting through the kitchen door, making me jump. “All clean and locked up.”

I scrambled to pick up my knife, then blinked a few times before cutting a slice of bread. “Thank you. Would you like something to eat? I’m making your favorite sandwich.”

Stay. Molly, stay. I willed her to come to my rescue, to take the stool next to Cole and be my buffer, but she kept on walking toward the office.

“Can’t do it. My bathtub is calling my name. I’ll see you in the morning. Cole, nice meeting you.”

He waved. “Nice to meet you too.”

She disappeared into the office, then came back with her purse slung over a shoulder. “Bye!”

“Night.” The minute the back door slammed shut, a new rush of jitters hit. I was alone with a handsome man who was not my husband.

My kitchen, something I’d designed to be large and spacious, was suddenly too small. The air conditioning that I kept running on high must have just quit working because my entire body was on fire. And I had forgotten how to make a grilled cheese sandwich as the knife sat motionless in my hand.

“What did you think of karate last night?” Cole asked, breaking the silence.

Dinner. This is just dinner. Breathe.

I forced some air into my lungs, then pushed away from the table to turn on the flat-iron grill. “It was interesting but I’m already getting sore. Especially my arms. I imagine by tomorrow my entire body will be on strike.”

He chuckled. “Yeah. It’s a tough workout. Are you sure you won’t try it again?”

“I’m sure.” I went back to the table and brushed four slices of bread with some olive oil, then spread on a thin layer of homemade pesto before adding the cheese and tomato. “To be honest, I only came for a one-time deal. I hope that doesn’t offend your instructor.”

“Nah, he doesn’t care. But why only the one time? Was it a dare or something?”

“It’s, um . . . from this list.”

“A list?”

Explaining Jamie’s birthday list was so personal that only a few people knew about it. Even fewer knew I was going through it myself. Yet, for some reason, I wanted to tell Cole. “My husband, Jamie, he put together this birthday list. It was like his bucket list, except he separated out everything to do by year before certain birthdays. Taking a karate class was something he wanted to do before he turned twenty-six.”