Beatrice
Cole's wearing jeans and boots, a white button down shirt, and a black vest. His cowboy hat is tipped down low, throwing shade over his face. After not seeing him for three days, I figured he was avoiding me and that I would never see him again.
So maybe it's the shock that makes me start panting.
Who am I kidding? As much as my ego doesn't want to admit it, I want him bad. Panting kind of bad. I make eye contact for a split second but look away, quickly. His eyes should be illegal. They're ladykiller eyes. Maybe he's a serial killer. That's a hopeful thought. I can't be attracted to a serial killer, right? Oh, hell.
"There you are," Bessie says, wagging her finger up at him. "The pulled pork sandwiches are selling like hotcakes. What are you going to do about it?"
"Hello...
