Up In Flames (8 page)

“If that was me taking advantage of you,” Cole said, his eyes skimming down my face until they paused at my mouth. The corners of his mouth twitched. “I don’t seem to remember you complaining.”

I swallowed, pressing the heat of his voice and the glimmer in his eye out of my mind. “I was too busy trying to dodge your mouth to complain.”

And chalk another lie up on the board for Elle Montgomery.

Cole leaned in closer, his eyes only glimmering brighter. “No, you weren’t dodging me, Elle,” he said. “If anything, you were too busy moaning in my mouth to complain.” He made a small noise then, what I guessed was his imitation of the foreign noises I’d made last night.

I knew my skin was reddening, but I wasn’t sure if it was due to embarrassment or anger. I wasn’t an angry person by nature, but Cole seemed to bring out emotions I’d thought were nonexistent, or dormant at the least.

When he made a similar noise, this one not so quiet, I slugged his arm.

Of course, this only made him laugh.

Casting another look back at Dad, I made sure my eyes were in full glare mode before looking back at Cole. “Those weren’t moans,” I half whispered, half hissed. “Those were groans of pure and utter disgust.”

Cole’s smirk didn’t fade. He was apparently just as capable this morning as he had been last night of seeing right through my act. “If that was the way you show pure and utter disgust,” he said, scrunching his face up dramatically before letting it iron out around another long moan. I was gearing up to slug him again when he dodged, his all-out smile in place. “Hit me up again.”

I blew an annoyed rush of air through my nose. I hated being stuck to this bleacher. I wanted to leap off of it and either slap him or kiss him. I didn’t want to care about what everyone else would think and just go with my instincts.

Of course, I didn’t.

“I’m fine,” I said, taking in another calming breath. “Obviously. Other than a deranged man with an enhanced sense of self”—I made sure to outdo that smirk of his— “I made it home just fine last night.”

His chuckle rocked his entire body. His whole body rocking reminded me of the way it had felt against mine. My next thought jumped right to the picture of how his body would feel bare, rocking into mine . . .

Excellent. I’d just become a hormone enraged thirteen year old boy with only one thing on my mind.

 “Still fighting that girl I’m so smitten with?” Cole guessed, giving me a knowing look. Please, for the love of God, please don’t say he really can read my mind. Especially not the last ten seconds of thoughts. “I thought we’d made some good progress in setting her free last night.”

“She put up a good fight,” I said, rolling my eyes and giving in to his teasing. “But so did I.”

Talking about myself in both the first and third person should feel strange, but it didn’t. I’d been ignoring it until Cole came along, but my life felt like I was living it in both first and third person most of the time.

“Obviously,” Cole agreed, regarding me like I wasn’t quite the same girl he’d been with last night.

I wasn’t.

But when his eyes stayed on me, softening when they explored my face, I was, too. My life had literally gone from uncertain to downright confusing in one loaded look from Cole Carson.

Leaning into the side of the bleachers, Cole crossed his arms and watched the baseball game for a minute while I watched him. “Since I have the day off and this town’s entertainment options give watching paint dry a run for its money, I think I’ll hang around a while and see if that repressed Elle makes a reappearance.”

At that moment, I kind of wished she’d show up too. “You like repressed Elle, don’t you?”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “No,” he said, “I
really
like her.” He glanced at me through the corner of his eyes. His mouth curled higher. “But I kinda dig stick-in-the-mud Elle, too.”

This admission made me happier than it should have. I shouldn’t care what Cole thought of me and the other me. It shouldn’t matter.

But it did. A lot.

For reasons I didn’t understand, but for reasons that didn’t really matter either. He liked me, all facets of me. He didn’t choose one over the other or expect me to only let one side of me show. He might have preferred one side of me, but he didn’t not like the other part.

“She kinda likes you, too,” I said, almost whispering.

Cole turned to me, and I swear, I would have been content to live the rest of my life staring at the expression on his face. It was sexy as all heck—this was Cole we were talking about—but it was affectionate, almost adoring.

“Which one?” he said in that low voice.

Instinctually, I leaned closer to him. “Both of them.”

I knew I was an inch or a word away from pressing my lips to his in the middle of my boyfriend’s baseball game, in broad daylight, for all my friends, family, and lifelong acquaintances to witness. Another instance where my heart didn’t give a darn about what I knew.

“Logan’s up, Elle.” Dad’s voice broke through my haze.

I might as well have been electrocuted for the way my body snapped upright, my head turning towards the game. I chanced a quick look my dad’s way. He was totally oblivious to the man lingering beside me and the flushed expression that man had given me.

Logan was already squared up at home plate, his number twelve facing me. I was usually so focused on the game I knew when he was on deck, long before he went up to bat. Exchanging waves and smiles as he walked up to the plate had become something of a tradition.

I’d been so consumed by Cole, this was the first time I’d looked at Logan since arriving.

“Go, Logan!” Dad hollered beside me. “Hit a homer, son!”

I was usually the most vocal one in the stands when Logan was at bat, but now my vocal chords wouldn’t work. Dad shot me an odd look as he continued to cheer with the rest of the spectators.

Logan was something of a hometown hero when it came to baseball. Well, when it came to just about anything, but especially when it came to baseball. He was good. Always had been, too. I remember Logan dragging an old wooden bat around when most boys his age were playing video games. He was so good I was certain he could have received some athletic scholarships if he applied to some schools, but he didn’t.

Logan’s dad was the town’s pastor, but he also ran a good-sized cattle ranch Logan had been planning on taking over since the day he knew what taking over the family business entailed. It was eery how similar Logan and I were at times, although I knew his reason for staying behind and working the family business had very little to do with the duty and obligation I felt for mine.

He was staying because he wanted to. Playing minor league baseball was the cherry on top of his dream of running the cattle ranch and coming home to me and our little homestead every night.

Why did I feel like I was suffocating again?

 “Who’s Logan?” Cole asked, his eyes narrowing at Logan’s back.

And there was the question. The one I’d been hoping to avoid by either A. explaining to Cole about Logan before we got to this point, or B. continuing to ignore Cole so I never had to explain who exactly Logan was, or C. waking up from this messed up dream.

“Logan?” I began, having no idea what I was going to say. “Logan’s my . . .” I stopped and took a breath. Why was getting the last part out so hard? Logan was my boyfriend. Soon, if he had his way, to be my husband. When I glanced at Cole, who was studying me again, I knew why it was so hard. I knew when I told Cole I had a boyfriend, I’d never see him again.

I wanted to see him again.

Just then, a sharp crack sounded from the diamond. I looked just in time to see the end of Logan’s swing as the baseball sailed high and long. The center fielder made a valiant run for it, but that ball landed a good ten yards past the fence. The stands erupted, chanting Logan’s name. My dad was the loudest one of them all.

Cole caught that, studying my dad with the same intensity. Finally, as Logan rounded third base, Cole nodded. “Logan’s your brother,” he said with confidence.

I shifted in my seat. So he’d figured there was a closeness shared between him and my dad and me, but of course, he’d guessed wrong.

“Not exactly,” I mumbled as Logan jogged over home plate.

The cheering went up a notch.

After high-fiving a few of his teammates, Logan turned around and jogged down the fence line until he was in front of me. He was grinning that boyish grin that had made me fall for him in the first place. Pointing his index finger at me, he winked. “That one was for you, baby!” he shouted for everyone to hear.

The crowd cheered even louder somehow. They loved their golden boy and his couldn’t-care-less attitude towards showing his feelings for me.

I felt my shoulders hunching forward as I shot him a wave and a half-hearted smile. I wanted to fall in between the cracks of these old, rickety bleachers and die right now.

Not because everyone in the stands was looking at me, giving me knowing smiles before turning back to the game, but because one person was looking at me with an intensity I was sure would set me on fire if he didn’t blink soon.

“Baby?” he nearly spit the word. “
Baby?
” he repeated with as much disdain as one word could hold. “So I guess Logan isn’t your brother.”

I gave one shake of my head, checking the crowd to make sure no one was paying Cole and me much attention. After a quick pat on the back, the neighbor sitting on Dad’s other side had gotten his attention and they were singing Logan’s praises.

“Logan’s your boyfriend,” he said, the muscles of his jaw tightening. “I heard that the town sweetheart, Elle Montgomery, was with the hometown hero. I heard it . . . I just couldn’t believe the Elle Montgomery I knew was a two-timer. I guess the rumor mill was more fact than false this time. You really do have a boyfriend.” It wasn’t a question, so it didn’t require an answer, but I felt it needed clarification. If this was coming out, I might as well get everything out.

Lifting my left hand, I flashed it in front of his face.

Cole nearly choked. “He’s your fiancee?” He paled three shades before going red three seconds later.

“Not yet,” I said, avoiding his eyes. “It’s just a promise ring.”

“Just?” Cole repeated, sounding disgusted. “
Just
a promise ring?”

I bit my lip and nodded.

Cole stared with disbelief and waited. This was the part where I explained myself. Explained my actions and what I’d been thinking.

I don’t think I could have explained it if someone held a gun up to my head and demanded one. I’d been careless, reckless, impulsive, thoughtless, and never been so sure of anything when I’d been with Cole.

How did you explain something that felt just as right as it felt wrong?

Others might have been able to, but I couldn’t.

“This explains a whole hell of a lot,” Cole said loudly.

My eyes drifted to my dad. He was cheering for the next guy up to bat, none the wiser.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Cole said, his voice sarcastic. “Is that why we’ve been whispering? Why you’ve been all but shielding me with your body? You don’t want your friends and family”—Cole’s hand waved with agitation at the field—“your damn promise ring boyfriend to find out about your dirty little secret?” His face changed then. A small crack in his anger formed and what I saw in that crack broke my heart.

“Cole . . .” I started, not knowing what I was going to say, but just needing to say something.

“Sorry, Elle. I’m out,” he said, refusing to look my way. “I’m not going to be anyone’s dirty little secret.” He turned around, his shoulders tense, and walked away.

I leaped down the side of the bleachers before he’d made it to the parking lot. I knew dad would probably notice this not-so-covert-op, I knew Logan might too, but I didn’t care right now.

Cole turning his back on me and walking away was what finally put me into action. I didn’t check to see if anyone was watching, I just jogged after him.

“Cole!” I shouted, ignoring the way his body tensed even more when he heard me. He didn’t stop.

“Cole, wait!” Knowing stopping wasn’t his plan, I picked up my pace. I got to him just before he rounded his Land Cruiser. “Cole,” I said, grabbing his arm.

I could have just slapped him for the way he flinched away from me. “What do you want, Elle?” he said, glaring at me in a way I’d never been glared at before. It was . . . staggering.

“I’m sorry,” I said, forcing myself to keep staring at him.

“You’re sorry? You are sorry.” Each word came out slowly, but each one was scalding with anger. “I suppose that makes everything all right now, right? Elle says she’s sorry, so now we’re good. Right?”

Shoot. He was really angry. So much so, his body was quivering. I couldn’t recall a time I’d seen someone so angry.

“Cole . . .”

“Just . . .” He glared at me again before a flash of pain swept over him. “Just enough, okay? I’m done with whatever bullshit of a thing we had,” he said, hopping into his Land Cruiser.

I stepped back when the engine roared to life. Cole rolled down the window and took one last look at me before sliding a pair of sunglasses on. If there was a contest for contempt, Cole would have just snagged the first place trophy.

“I guess you really had me fooled, too, Elle Montgomery,” he said, gripping the steering wheel so hard it looked like he was about to rip it off.

I had so much to say. So much to apologize for and try to explain, but that would never happen because before I could get one word out, Cole peeled out of the parking lot like he couldn’t get away from me fast enough.

I stood there for a few minutes, shedding a few tears for a boy I’d known a week. For a boy I was as wrong for as he was wrong for me.

Cole and I could never be. There was positively no future for us. I knew that, but my heart ached, and some part of me refused to accept that.