Pocketful of Sand(19)

Doesn’t drive?

Although I’ve never seen him in a vehicle, it never occurred to me that Cole might not drive.

“I told you I could walk,” he says flatly when he stops behind Jordan.

Over her shoulder, she turns a million-watt smile on him. “And miss an opportunity to flirt with you? Not a chance.”

When she faces me, she rolls her eyes and then mouths an excited Ohmigod! Based on the flush of her cheeks and her uncharacteristically bright eyes, I’d say she’s pretty happy today, with or without alcohol. If she has been drinking, as per her usual, it’s not obvious.

“Can we come in?” Cole asks, his voice rife with irritation. I get the feeling he’s not too pleased about his predicament.

I suppress a grin. “Of course.”

I back up and open the door wide. Jordan wiggles in first, followed by a lagging Cole. My lips twitch as I look up into his scowling face.

“Don’t you dare laugh!” he leans down and whispers to me as he passes. That only makes my mirth harder to contain.

As I close the door behind him, I’m having trouble not smiling from ear to ear. Not because his reaction to Jordan is funny, which it sort of is, but more because I’m warmed from head to toe, inside to out, with how he shared it with me. Almost like a private joke. It makes me realize that I like sharing things with this man. And that I want to know him better.

A lot better.

I get the feeling that the number of people Cole trusts in his life are about as many as the ones I trust in mine–none. Well except Emmy.

But something tells me that I can trust him. And that I want to trust him. I want to be able to trust somebody. It’s been so long…

Cole makes his way straight to the bathroom. Surprisingly, my daughter is right on his heels, leaving me alone with Jordan, who doesn’t appear in any big hurry to leave. She has already made herself at home on the sofa, so I resign myself to spending time with her until she decides to leave.

I curl up in the big chair facing her, tucking my cold feet up under me. Jordan notices.

“Don’t you have heat in here?” she asks bluntly.

“Yes, it’s just not a particularly warm house.”

She shivers, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. “You aren’t kidding. And I didn’t even bring anything to warm us up,” she adds with a knowing wink.

“That’s okay. I’m getting used to it.”

“So, don’t you work?”

I should’ve known that this woman was the type not to pull any punches, but wow! She just dives right in.

“Ummm, not outside the home. I homeschool Emmy, so…” I trail off, hoping she’ll let this thread die.

“Well that doesn’t make you money, does it?”

I laugh uneasily. “No, but we have a little in savings.” And that’s true. She doesn’t have to know all the sordid details about how I came by that money or that what’s left of it is hidden beneath the false bottom that I tore out and sewed back up in the floor of my suitcase.

Jordan eyes me as she nods. Not really suspiciously, but more…curiously. “Where’s the princess’s papa?”

Oh, God! Is this what the whole morning’s going to be like?

“I, uh, I don’t really talk about it in front of Emmy,” I reply in a low voice. That’s also true. In some ways, Emmy is an extremely perceptive child and she’s never really pushed me on the details of her father. I think in some strange way, she knows that she’s better off not knowing.

“Got it,” she concedes amicably. “Well then let’s whisper about your hot plumber. So is there something going on between you two or what?”

“Of course not. Why do you ask?”

Jordan gives me a withering look. “I might be a lush, but I’m not stupid. I pay attention to things that interest me. And, honey, that boy interests me.” Her smile is genuine. She doesn’t seem the least bit put out that he might be interested in me.

According to her, that is.

I don’t really see it, although I can’t say that the idea doesn’t give me a little thrill. I can only imagine what it might be like to be the object of something other than his frowns and his quiet, brooding ways.

“Why have you two never, um, dated then?”

I’m remembering Jason’s comment about her being the town “bicycle.”

She sighs loudly. “No matter how much I might try to drag him out of his shell…and his clothes…” she adds with an impish wrinkle of her nose, “he keeps to himself. I know the guy’s broken and all, but I was beginning to think he was gay.”