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person asking for me in reception.
    Straightening out my white shorts and navy top—another bonus about Dalton was the casual uniform—I strolled towards the front of the building. With every step my nerves increased my heartbeat.
    I was being ridiculous.
    The idea of him shouldn’t have sent me into a frenzy of excitement. I hardly knew the guy for crying out loud.
    Rounding the last corner, my hand trailed over the wooden flowerbeds that held deep red pansies with golden centres. When I reached the main entrance the first thing I saw was Cole’s gigantic frame hunched over the reception desk. A pair of worn jeans hung low on his hips to reveal the tip of black elastic from his boxers, and the grey plaid shirt he wore had been rolled up at the sleeves and remained loose at the sides, leading me to the assumption it wasn’t buttoned.
    My tennis shoes allowed me to move stealthily into the room without alerting him until I stood a metre away.
    “Hey, Hazel, you’re early,” I called out, causing him to spin around faster than I expected. The sudden movement had me stumbling back a step while Cole collected himself.
    The corners of his mouth twitched. “I couldn’t let you be right about everything, could I? And it’s Cole.”
    Pushing off the counter, he shoved his hands into his pockets and moved to stand in front of me.
    “I don’t think showing up early counts as proving me wrong. If anything it’s the opposite.”
    “Yeah, probably. You were right about everything. Happy?”
    I cocked my hip, resting both hands on it. “What else was I right about?”
    “Are you really going to make me say it?”
    I tapped my foot impatiently. “Yep.”
    “I need your help because I’m lost and I have no idea how to start living again. You’re better at this than me.”
    “I don’t think you’re as bad as you make out. I mean, look at you; you’re standing there breathing and taking up space. You’re almost a professional at living!” I exclaimed. “I’d say if you keep going the way you are you’ll most likely live into your eighties, maybe nineties.”
    Cole rolled his eyes. “I was trying to compliment you again. I meant about how you’ve uprooted yourself to make your own adventure and follow your heart.”
    “I told you the first time, I don’t take compliments from random seat stealers on trains.”
    “We’re not on a train anymore.”
    Mischief shone in my gaze. “No, but I still don’t take compliments from strangers. They’re usually after something in return.”
    “You’re impossible.”
    “I prefer the term one of a kind.” I twirled my finger around the end of my ponytail. “And once again I’m right; you do want something from me.”
    “You do realise this was your idea, right? You willingly gave me your information.”
    “Nope, lesson one about learning to live: you make your own decisions. I gave you an opportunity and you chose to take it.”
    “Do you ever make anything easy?”
    I shook my head. “Lesson number two: nothing you want is ever easy, but those things are worth the fight.”
    He stepped forward until we stood toe-to-toe. The action caused me to tilt my head back in order to see him. His hazel irises swirled, the colours glinting in the light.
    “Are you telling me you’re worth fighting for, sweetheart?” His voice dropped to a murmur, yet held a dangerous bite.
    I swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump in my throat which had formed from the change in proximity. It made speaking difficult. “I’m telling y-you what I just said. If you want to live you’re going to have to fight. If you’re not fighting you’re dead inside. It’s that drive—that desire—which pushes you to the limit.”
    “I’ll take a room then.”
    Blowing the air from my cheeks, I sidestepped him and scurried behind the reception desk, glad of the excuse to put some distance and a large piece of wood between us. My insides twisted and my legs suddenly felt weak as I tried to stand