My jeans have been swapped for a cleaner pair. The tie-dye hoodie that I picked up at a garage sale with Val last year has been discarded for a black thermal shirt with a flattering V neck that gives the slightest glimpse of cleavage. I ran a brush though my hair and another across my teeth and refreshed my deodorant. All the while, I keep telling myself that this is not a date.

There are a ton of reasons why it’s not. First, he didn’t invite me. Ethan invited him. Second, my child is accompanying us, and while that’s not a definite not a date indicator, it’s close enough. Third, we aren’t dating.

I sit on the edge of my bed with a pair of socks in my hand. Even though this isn’t a date, per se, it’s nice.

It’s quite lovely to have something to look forward to tonight. And it’s even better that it’s with Cole Beck.

I enjoy being with him. But just as importantly, I enjoy being inside my own skin when I’m with him. I’m less stressed. I’m funnier. I feel prettier, even though being in his presence doesn’t actually make me more beautiful. That’s not how things work. But damn it if I don’t feel a little rosier when I’m on the receiving end of one of his smirks or graced with one of his laughs.

I smile just thinking about it.

The doorbell rings, knocking me out of my reverie.

“Crap!” I toss my socks on the bed and spring toward the door. It takes only a few seconds to reach the foyer.

Cole stands on the porch with his hands in his pockets. He smiles. “Hey, good-lookin’.”

I try not to beam but am pretty sure I fail. “Charmer.” I step to the side and allow him in.

“I drove by King Pin on the way here, and it’s a madhouse. Is bowling a big deal around here or what?”

“Yeah, I was afraid of that.” I close the door. “It’s Wednesday.”

He furrows a brow.

“It’s League Night. You know—when the league teams play.”

“Oh.”

I laugh. “Small-town entertainment.”

He walks toward me and stops a few feet away. His chin dips. “Where’s Ethan?”

Cole’s voice is deep, husky. His eyes are pools of blue. They send a shiver down my spine.

“He’s in his room,” I say softly. “Why?”

The corner of his lip tilts toward the ceiling. “Because I’ve had this itch to kiss you all evening.”