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“Something else you should keep in mind,” Kendall said with a terse element in his tone.
Colton looked away from the saloon doors and asked, “What’s that?”
“Isabelle is very good friends with Jessica Campbell-Dawson and not someone you and Warrick can simply fuck once and throw away.” Kendall’s eyebrows went north in admonishment.
“We don’t do that.” Do we?
His immediate answer to that simple question came audibly when of all the men on the horses surrounding him started laughing out loud again, many of them making snide remarks to the contrary under their breaths beneath their kerchiefs.
Kendall said sternly and concisely, “Colton, only seeing a woman one time for wicked carnal pleasures before moving on to the next woman is the very definition of fuck and throw away.”
Colton pushed out breath. “Got it.”
Keeping his focus on the group—and not the saloon doors behind him—Colton considered his and Warrick Harper’s wicked ways with women up to now. They did have a reputation for not seeing any woman for very long.
It wasn’t a secret. There was a good reason from his best friend’s point of view. Colton had always agreed because he’d known he wasn’t ready to settle down. Further consideration of how old he’d be on his next birthday prompted an unexpected new line of thinking.
Perhaps it was well past time to change his wicked oat-sewing ways. Perhaps it was time to at least see someone more than once or twice before letting them go so they could all move on to others.
Like they’d always done. Had they ever lasted a whole month with one woman? Maybe. Maybe not.
Colton ran through a mental list of the past several dinner dates he and Warrick had participated in along with the pleasure thereafter. First in his recollection was the fact it had been quite a while since they’d been out at all. That should change.
When he couldn’t even remember the name, face, or in fact a single thing about the last woman they’d seen, he was a little ashamed of himself. The word man-whore surfaced in his brain.
Shit. Not only did he and Warrick fuck and throw away, they were good at it. Although, the women they’d seen were fully aware of the limited nature of what they had to offer by way of the rules Warrick always insisted on instilling during dinner, Colton had grown too used the practice. It had become their way. Everyone knew it.
Colton pondered his own relationship to the town. The truth was, he wasn’t an official owner, but Warrick was and as his best friend he enjoyed the same perks as if he also owned a share in the Old West Town enterprise along with the other exclusive owner’s private living complex five miles away.
Colton’s new ranch house was his primary domain, but his regular home away from home was at Warrick’s large log cabin behind the secured compound walls.
The arrangement worked for them. At least it always had. It helped that they also weren’t the only ones who had a single owner partnership in the vast group.
In order to afford the buy-in for himself singularly, he’d have to sell his ranch. The cattle farm and property had been in his family for multiple generations. He couldn’t do it. Warrick had told him it wasn’t necessary or important.
Truthfully, he hadn’t given the arrangement much thought since he and Warrick hadn’t ever explored any romantic relationships with the idea of ever getting married. That would be the only reason to even consider a change. Did he want a change?
Thinking back to the brief look at Isabelle Anderson—new night manager at the Old West Town hotel—Colton figured it was long past time to reconsider such a limited time with such a beautiful woman. He wasn’t sure settling down was the answer yet, but he wouldn’t cast the notion aside so quickly if he got an opportunity. Regardless of their possible future with any woman, he didn’t ever need to sell off his ancestral land to participate in a permanent relationship—should one become available. Isabelle Anderson’s beautiful face came into his mind.
Maybe subconsciously he’d merely been waiting for a striking strawberry blonde he couldn’t have any other way.
Maybe it was time to explore more long-lasting relationships even if the final result wasn’t marriage. If he could get Warrick to agree. Although that would be a miracle.
Given Warrick’s propensity for and repeated assurance he’d never willingly walk down any aisle if marriage vows were waiting at the end, any sort of permanence limited or not might take some strenuous convincing.
* * * *
Enclave Courthouse – present day
Isabelle Anderson hitched her purse a little higher on her shoulder, resisting the urge to glance behind her yet again. The sneaky sense of being followed had amplified to an oh-fuck-someone-is-behind-me-ready-to-strike-me-dead-at-any-second anxiety.
