Cole frowned at him, and I think the two somehow engaged in a silent argument with their eyes.
“Can’t wait,” I said, drawing Cole’s attention back to me.
“I wish... Well, it doesn’t matter.” He rolled his shoulders, the tension back and clearly too much. “I have to be with Lucas tonight, and I have to be alone.”
Something about his tone... It was the gruff one he used whenever he spoke about his secret. He had to be with Lucas because...he was spying on him? Emma had mentioned spying.
Or was I just giving him an excuse for not wanting to patrol with me?
Ugh. I hated this. Hated that I was taking everything he said, everything he did, and dissecting it, looking for hidden meaning, trying to give myself a reason to hope for reconciliation I knew wasn’t going to happen.
Stupid. Put your hope in the right thing, and it would be a lifeline. Put your hope in the wrong thing, and it would be a noose.
“I was serious. Be careful out there.” He ghosted his knuckle across the curve of my jaw. “Stay alert.”
I stepped back, out of reach. I wasn’t sure what he’d meant by the touch—and I wasn’t going to try to figure it out. I also wasn’t allowing him to touch me like that anymore.
He frowned.
“By the way,” I said, “I saw the rabbit cloud. I’m pretty sure the zombies will be out tonight.”
His features hardened, chilled. “You tell me now, after I decide to send you on patrol?”
What, he’d thought the zombies would stay in tonight, and that was the only reason he’d opted to send me out? Anger sparked. “If you hadn’t already broken up with me, I would absolutely be breaking up with you right this second. You’re a grade-A douche bag, Cole Holland.”
“According to your grandmother, it’s douche purse. And if I’m going to do something, it’s good to know I’m giving my best,” he replied, unfazed by my insult. “You’re a great fighter, and I have no problem throwing you into the heart of battle—when you’re well—but you’re still recovering from Justin’s bite, on top of everything else. Tonight, you’ll stay in.”
I felt my hand curl into a fist. Felt my elbow draw back. Felt my arm dart forward, my knuckles crack into Cole’s jaw. I couldn’t stop myself.
His head whipped to the side, and blood leaked from a cut in his lip.
Behind me, gasps of shock abounded.
“I’m recovered,” I said. “Believe me now?”
Those violet eyes slitted when they found me. “Assault and battery is illegal.”
“So have me arrested.”
He closed what little distance there was between us. Suddenly I could feel the warmth of his breath caressing my skin, could smell the decadence of his scent, the heat of his skin. “How about I put you over my lap and spank you instead?”
“How about I knee your balls into your throat?”
“If you’re going to play with that particular area, I’d rather you use your hands.”
“My hands aren’t going near that area ever again.”
A pause. Then, “I bet I could change your mind,” he whispered huskily.
“I bet I could bash yours.” I drew back another fist, but he was ready and caught me midswing. His pupils dilated, a sign of arousal. Another sign: he began to pant. He was acting like I’d just tried to unbuckle his jeans rather than smack the fire out of him.
“Hit me again,” he said, still using that same whispered tone, “and I’ll take it as an invitation.”
I was just as bad. I trembled with longing I couldn’t control and struggled to catch my breath. “An invitation to do what?”
His grip loosened, his fingers rubbing my skin. A caress, not a warning. “I guess we’ll find out together.”
What the heck are you doing?
The words screamed inside my head. This...whatever this was—flirting?—had to stop.
I dropped my arm and stepped back, only then noticing the silence inside the barn. Were the others watching, listening? My cheeks heated. “Look, I know you stayed friends with your other exes,” I said, “and if you want to be friends with me, fine. I’ll try. I just don’t want to play this game. Understood?”
He opened his mouth, closed it with a snap. Then he nodded resolutely.
I spun away from him before I did or said something worse, and stalked to the wall of weapons. Gavin was there, weighing a semiautomatic in his hand.
“Nice right cross, Als,” he said.
Finally. A cute nickname. Why did it have to come from him? “Thanks.” I lifted an ax.
He took it from me. “Sorry, honey, but if you want a big boy’s weapon, you’ll have to fight me for it. Spoiler alert—I’ll let you restrain me on the floor as long as you’re straddling my waist.”
I think my lips were curling at the corners. “I’m not straddling you,” I muttered, selecting another, lighter ax.
“Too bad.” He reached over and pressed a button on the bottom of my weapon. It was a lever of some sort and triggered metal spikes that popped out at the sides of the blade. “Do you know how to use this thing?”
“I have an arm, and I can swing. I figure that will do the trick.”
“If you don’t get yourself killed tonight, it’ll be because of a miracle,” he said. “Good thing my middle name is Miracle.”
“You’ve seen me fight. You know I’m good.”
“True.” He bumped my shoulder with his own. “So...have you ever thought about dyeing your hair punk-rocker-chick black? As I’m sure you’ve heard, I have a thing for brunettes and always avoid blondes.”
“I’ve heard. And no.”
“Too bad. Because you’re making me rethink my stance about not doing my friends’ exes.”
I snorted, not even trying to hide my...incredulity? Surely I wasn’t amused. “You’re making me rethink my stance against cold-blooded homicide.” I didn’t wait for his reply but marched away.
Laughing, he followed me. “Are you always this on edge?”
“I didn’t used to be, no.” I sighed. “Look, I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.” I tried to sit down in one of the cushioned chairs in the back of the room, but he caught my arm in a gentle vise and forced me to face him.
“First, you didn’t hurt my feelings. I doubt anyone could, considering the fact that I don’t actually have any. Second, I believe we have some unfinished business.”