“Have you ever missed work besides the day before Kennedy’s wedding?”

“I’ve taken some days off between projects when we haven’t been stacked so tight.”

“Not since I’ve worked there,” he said, his voice a quiet, comforting rumble in the night air.

She glanced up at his profile, noting his unshaven jaw in the faint light from the old-fashioned streetlamps below. She wanted to run a finger over his roughened skin but was still treading lightly, unsure about his mood.

“I love my work,” she said. “Is everything okay with your mom?”

He breathed out audibly. “We got her home tonight. She’s doing okay, I guess. Just really tired.”

“She’s been through a lot.”

He nodded but didn’t say more.

They sat in silence for a while, looking out over the neighborhood. The Wentworth Hotel at the left end was lit up as usual, but all the businesses that they could see at street level were closed for the night, Frank’s Diner being the last to shut down not long ago. Clayborne’s would still be open but wasn’t visible from here. A light came on in one of the second-floor apartment windows across the street, and Sierra saw Tilly, Frank Dole’s wife, who co-owned the diner, come into view, watched her draw the curtains.

“Peaceful here,” Cole said.

Sierra nodded, gratified that he liked it. “What about your place? Peaceful too?” she asked, having realized she didn’t know anything about where he lived other than it was an apartment in a not-so-great part of town, according to him.

“Wouldn’t say that.” He raised his legs to the ottoman, then surprised her by scooping up her legs and draping them over his lap, angling her into him, tightening his arm around her.

“Hi,” she said with a smile, burrowing into his chest, feeling more okay about letting her guard down, trusting he was here because he wanted to be.

His response was a contented growl, and as he dipped his chin, she reached up to run her hand over his rough cheek at last. Cole gazed down at her and then breathed in deeply, as if savoring their closeness.

Sierra loved it but couldn’t ignore that something was off with him. “Is everything okay?” she asked barely above a whisper.

“Come here,” he said, pulling her more fully onto his lap in a straddle. “Okay for your ankle?”

Her knees were alongside his legs, her ankle supported by the cushion. It was more okay than it’d been all weekend as her body forgot that dull ache in favor of the hot ache at her core with their bodies pressed together. She gazed into his eyes and read his raw need there.