Crazy in Love (Blue Lake #3)(18)

She completely understood, but it was a letdown nonetheless. She’d been excited to start something that could really go somewhere. Joey was everything she’d ever wanted—handsome and stable, a guy who was down-to-earth and sensitive.

Cole on the other hand, was the opposite. He wasn’t handsome—not even close. He was gorgeous and ions out of her league. He wasn’t stable because he was leaving on Sunday. Down to earth? Not with the gazillion guitars boxed in her living room. He had a sense of humor, but in a dry, cocky sense. And she felt exposed when he was near. Vulnerable and not like herself. She wasn’t in control and didn’t like it one bit.

“He rescheduled for Sunday night,” she threw in for his benefit.

“He stood you up to put out a fire? That’s noble of him.” Cole said, matching her pace as she sauntered down the street. “Either that or it’s the perfect way to get out of a date and still be praised for it.”

She backhanded him playfully in the shoulder.

“The guy’s either a hero or a genius.” He shrugged. “I should remember that the next time I want to skip out on a dame.”

She scoffed, but a teasing smile pulled at her lips. “I bet you would.”

He stopped in front of Shots Saloon, one of the oldest bars in the county. “Can I buy you a drink?”

She was all dressed up with nowhere to go. And Shots Saloon had the best Buffalo wings in the state. Since Joey stood her up, she hadn’t had dinner yet. But she didn’t want Cole to think this was a date. Because it wasn’t.

“One drink,” she said, spinning around. “But I’m buying my own.”





Chapter Seven





One Guinness and three shots of Jameson Whiskey later, Rachael’s world spun. After the first drink, she’d said she needed to stop. She’d told Cole that was her limit. Yet he’d already lined up three shots for each of them.

How he knew Jameson was her favorite, she didn’t know, but she took the shots in thanks and after clinking the glass against his, shot them all back.

Cole stared as if he couldn’t believe it, and then raced to finish off his own whiskey line-up.

As the bar began to empty out, Cole stood and tapped her on the shoulder. Sparks flew down her arms, humming through her fingers. Each time he’d touched her tonight—inadvertently or otherwise—she’d had the same reaction to him. She couldn’t shake it.

“Pool table’s finally free,” he said. “Do you play?”

“Psht.” Rachael buzzed her lips together to make the wet sound. Her lips were already tingly; another few minutes and they’d be completely numb. “I won a pool championship back in college.”

“Really?” He smiled and dropped his ID on the bar. “Where’d you go to school?”

The bartender traded Cole’s ID for the cue ball.

“UC Santa Cruz,” she said, her words slipping and sliding together. “Did you go to school? College, I mean.”

“No, that path wasn’t in the cards for me.”

Cue ball in hand, he turned and strode toward the back of the bar, where a pool table was situated beneath two Coca-Cola umbrella lights. It was private in back, with dim lights and not a single patron within earshot. While Rachael dug four quarters out of her purse and fumbled to stick them in the pool table slots, Cole measured sticks on the rack against the wall.

“How’d you get started in music?” she asked, leaning against the table.

“Why do I get the feeling our game of pool is going to turn into Twenty Questions?”