Chapter 33 I'm in Love With It

Chapter 33 I'm in Love With It
“Please,” Cole says again, softer this time.
Against my better judgement, I slip my hand into his. His fingers close around mine, warm and steady, and something inside my chest loosens just a fraction.
“Okay,” I whisper. “But only for a few hours. I need to be back before anyone starts asking questions.”
He gives my hand a gentle squeeze and leads me toward the parking lot without another word. We slide into his car, and he pulls out smoothly with one hand on the wheel while the other rests lightly on my thigh. The touch is casual, but it sends warmth spreading through me that has nothing to do with the heater.
Our first stop is a small ice cream shop tucked away on a quiet street. Cole parks and turns to me with a half-smile.
“Chocolate or something fruitier today?”
I raise an eyebrow. “You still remember my order?”
He snorts. “I also remember you stealing my fries and pretending you didn’t.”
“Hey!” I say, swatting his arm playfully. “I prefer to call it... sharing your fries.”
“You ate 90% of them.”
“I was carb-loading.”
We order at the counter. I get a double scoop of salted caramel and dark chocolate while he chooses vanilla with espresso swirl. We sit outside at a tiny metal table, the sun warming our shoulders. I lick a drip from the side of the cone and catch him watching my tongue.
“Eyes up here, Coach,” I say, keeping my voice light and teasing.
He chuckles lowly. “Hard not to watch when you just discovered a way to make eating ice cream look like foreplay.”
I laugh despite everything weighing on me. “Flattery will get you everywhere. Or at least another ten minutes before I start overthinking again.”
We talk easily while we eat. He asks about my classes, about how practice has felt since the captaincy change. I tell him Sarah is still gunning for my spot and that I plan to make her regret every dirty tackle. He listens, really listens, nodding at the right moments and offering quiet advice about reading the field instead of forcing plays.
When we finish, he tells me our next stop is a surprise, then he drives us to a private airfield on the edge of the city. I expect a small plane or maybe just a fancy car service, but when we pull up beside a sleek black helicopter, my mouth actually falls open.
“No freaking way” I say as we climb out, my mouth hanging open. “You own this?!”
Cole shrugs like it is the most normal thing in the world. “One of them.”
“Oh good,” I joke. “I was worried you only had one helicopter. That would’ve been embarrassing.”
His lips curve up slightly. “I’ll try harder next time.”
“Please do. My standards are very high,” I say while looking at the place.
I mean I knew he was into a little more than coaching but I had no idea it paid this well. Not one to let a jibe go down the drain, I turn to him with a smirk. “I had no idea coaching college soccer paid this well. Do they give you stock options with the whistle too?”
Surprisingly, he laughs. Cold and stoic Coach Cole Fletcher actually laughs and the sound sends a wave of warmth through my chest. “Now you’re just looking for trouble. Come on. I want to show you the city from above.”
The pilot greets us with a nod and we settle into the back. The rotors start spinning, and soon we lift off, the ground falling away beneath us. The city spreads out like a living map, sunlight glinting off glass buildings and the river winding through it all. Cole points out landmarks, his arm draped casually behind my seat. I lean into him without thinking, the vibration of the helicopter and the closeness of his body making my head spin.
“This is insane,” I say, pressing my forehead to the window. “I feel like I’m in a fucking movie. The kind where the girl finds out the mysterious guy is secretly loaded.”
“First of all... language,” he replies sternly, even as his fingers continue tracing lazy circles on my shoulder. “Secondly, you’re not far off. But the mysterious part is overrated. I just like having options when I need to disappear for a while.”
“Oh please,” I scoff. “You’re the definition of dark and mysterious. Wouldn’t be surprised if you told me you were the Godfather or something.”
We land at a secluded condo perched on a hill overlooking a private lake. The moment we step inside, I kick off my shoes and wander through the open space, running my fingers over the smooth wooden shelves lined with books, the soft leather couches, the huge windows that frame the garden and water beyond.
“This place is insane,” I say, spinning slowly in the middle of the living room. “The light in here is perfect. And that library wall? I could live in this room alone.”
Cole leans against the doorway with his arms crossed, watching me with quiet amusement. “I take it you like what you see?”
“Like it? I’m in love with it. The garden looks like something out of a dream, and the lake view from the balcony is ridiculous. How often do you come here?”
“Not often enough,” he admits. “It’s a good place to think. Or to bring someone when the rest of the world gets too loud.”
I walk over to him and stop just short of touching. “Is that what today is? Escaping the noise?”
“Partly.” His gaze drops to my mouth. “Mostly I just wanted some time with you without interruptions.”
I let myself lean in slightly, savouring nothing but the intoxicating feeling of being close to him. His gaze holds mine for a bit and my eyes drop to his lips, waiting for him to close the distance but knowing he cant. He shouldn’t. He’s with my sister and I have a boyfriend. Well... sort of.
I breathe in his scent for a moment more then I pull away to go look at some books.
We don’t stay long. His driver takes us to a quiet upscale restaurant downtown with private booths and soft lighting. We sit across from each other, sharing small plates of pasta and easy conversation.
“What?” I ask at some point, narrowing my eyes when I catch him staring. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You’re about to destroy that dish.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I shoot back, rolling my eyes. “Did the Italian Food Police appoint you as captain too?”
He leans back slightly, amused. “I lived there for a while, you know.”
That makes me pause mid-bite. “Wait... seriously?”
“Mhm.” He takes a sip of his wine, way too calm about it. “Off-season. A friend dragged me over for summer break and I ended up staying longer than I planned.”
“For how long is ‘longer than planned’?” I ask.
“A year.”
I raise my brow. “Damn. Did you learn any Italian?”
He shrugs. “A little. I had a girlfriend for a while and she taught me.”
I roll my eyes as I stab into some pasta. “Of course you did. You probably had women lining up. Tall, brooding foreign athlete with a jawline that could cut glass? Yeah, I see it.”
“Jealous?” he asks with a smirk.
I snort. “Please. I’m embarrassed for them.”
He leans forward, resting his arms on the table. “Vuoi sapere un segreto?”
I raise a brow. “Was that Italian or did you just cast a spell on me?”
A ghost of a smile tugs at his mouth. “Italian.”
“Well? Don’t gatekeep,” I say. “What did you say?”
“It means…” he pauses just long enough to be annoying, “…‘Do you want to know a secret?’”
I narrow my eyes. “That’s very anticlimactic.”
“Patience, princess.”
The nickname sends warmth through my chest. I take a sip of my wine, pretending I’m unaffected. “I’m not a very patient person.”
“I’ve noticed.”
I roll my eyes again to hide my smile. “Fine. Tell me your secret then, Mr. Italy.”
He drops his fork. “There was this old woman who owned a small café near where I was staying.”
I tilt my head. “Okay…”
“She decided I looked too serious all the time,” he continues. “So every morning, she’d sit me down and refuse to let me leave until I smiled.”
I smile despite myself. “Did it work?”
“No,” he says flatly.
I raise a brow.
“Well… eventually,” he admits.
“That’s adorable,” I say.
“She also told everyone I was her grandson.”
I laugh. “Stop.”
“I’m dead serious.”
“Did you correct her?”
“No.”
“Cole.”
“She made better food when I didn’t.”
I’m forced to silence my burst of laughter when his phone rings. He glances at the screen, jaw tightening slightly.
“Excuse me. I need to take this,” he says.
I nod, sipping my wine. The conversation is short and clipped, mostly one-word answers from him. When he hangs up, his expression is serious.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“I... uh...” he clears his throat and looks at me regretfully. “Something came up that needs my attention.”
I set my glass down. “Cole, it’s fine. You can just drop me home. I should be heading back soon, anyway.”
He shakes his head. “I promised you the entire day. I fully intend to keep that promise.”
I raise a brow, waiting.
He reaches across the table and takes my hand. “There is a gala tonight. Some charity event for youth sports. I want you to be my date.”
I blink, caught completely off guard. “Me? I’m not exactly dressed for a gala. I’m literally in jeans and a hoodie, Cole. I look like I just came from class.”
He smiles, that slow, confident curve of his lips that always makes my stomach flip. “That can be fixed.”
He makes one quick phone call and less than twenty minutes later, we are back at the condo. When we walk inside, the living room has transformed. Racks of dresses line one wall, stylists with cases of makeup and hair tools set up near the windows, shoes arranged neatly on a low table.
I stare at the sudden chaos. “You just… made one call and had the entire red carpet team appear in your freaking living room?”
“Perks of knowing the right people,” he says with a wink. “Go get ready. I’ll wait out here.”
The next hour passes in a whirlwind of fabric, brushes, and polite instructions. The stylists are efficient and kind, transforming my casual look into something elegant and sleek. A deep emerald dress that hugs my curves without being overt, hair swept up with soft strands framing my face, makeup that makes my eyes look brighter and my lips fuller.
When I finally step out of the dressing room, the room goes quiet for a beat.
Cole stands slowly from the couch. His eyes move over me in one long, unhurried sweep, dark and hungry in a way that makes my belly flip. I feel exposed and powerful at the same time.
He says nothing at first, just stares with a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
I tilt my head, holding back my own smile. “Stop staring at me like that, Coach, you’re making all the staff uncomfortable.”
He takes a slow step closer, amber eyes locked on mine as he gently wraps an arm around my waist and holds me to him.
He leans in closer until his lips are against my ear and murmurs, “Sto facendo di tutto per non baciarti in questo momento.”
I lift an eyebrow, fighting the urge to grin. “Well? You know I have no idea what that means.”
He holds my gaze for a long beat, the intensity in his eyes making my skin feel too warm, like I am burning up from the inside. Finally, he tears his gaze away from my lips and smiles softly as his thumb brushes lightly against my waist.
“I think I’ll let you figure that one out,” he says softly. “I hope you’re ready to party.”