Page 158 of Hard Pass

“There is such thing as Uber.”

“I’m aware,” I say as we both stand.

“I want to meet him.”

I pause. “Don’t say anything weird.”

She grins as we both put money to cover the check. “Like what? Like that one time you tried to flirt your way out of a parking ticket and didn’t realize it was the father of the guy you were dating?”

“Yes. Like that.”

This is probably a mistake.

“I would never,” she says.

Liar.

We head down the steps at the bar’s entrance, and my heart does that thing whenever I know he’s close.

The passenger door opens before I can reach for it.

“Ladies,” Cole says from where he sits in the driver’s seat. White T-shirt. Jeans. Damp hair from the shower.

Jesus. Talk about sexy. I swallow. “Hi.”

“Did you have a good time?” he asks.

“Yes,” Willa answers for me. “Though I should warn you, we mostly talked about you.”

He grins. “I’ll take the risk. And it’s all true.”

“Even the bad stuff?”

“Especially the bad stuff.” He nods. “You must be Willa.”

He flashes his megawatt smile, and I swear I hear my best friend sigh beside me.

“Long time no see. Cabo, was it?”

Cole glances up at her—and then throws his head back and laughs.

And just like that, everything feels a little less impossible.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Dublin

I wake before him.

I don’t know what time it is. Early. Quiet. The kind of morning where the world hasn’t fully decided to start yet. Even the sky sits somewhere between the gray of dawn and the pastel colors of sunrise.

I’m in Cole’s room. His bed. It’s not like I haven’t spent every night here since the steakhouse despite the room down the hall with all of my things in it—including a perfectly made bed.

I lie on my side, propped up on my elbow, and watch him. He sleeps like everything in his life is under control. Like the weight he carries when he’s awake doesn’t follow him here.

His breathing is even. His face is relaxed. The sharp lines of tension I’ve gotten used to seeing are softened.

I take all of him in. How his hair falls across his forehead. The faint shadow of stubble along his jaw. The broad line of his shoulders disappearing beneath the sheet. One hand pulled behind his head.