“So do you.”
“Here.”
He hands me the badge.
Our fingers brush, soft and electric.
He clears his throat. “Your date here yet?”
“No.”
I swallow. “You’re early.”
“Wanted to make sure you got this before he showed up.”
My stomach flips.
“That’s…really sweet.”
He shrugs, trying to play it cool.
“Just being professional.”
I stare at him. “So you’d do this for any client?”
He stares back. “Uh, yeah. Of course I would.”
Neither of us believes that.
“Thanks, Colt,” I say softly. “Guess we have a few minutes to hang out. If you want.”
I lift a brow. “I don’t want to, uh, flirt with you, though. Wouldn’t want to break company protocol. HR is a nightmare these days.”
He huffs a quiet laugh through his nose. “Yeah. Tell me about it. It’s like people are afraid to have fun anymore.”
We stand near the bar, angled toward each other but pretending we’re not. Pretending every nerve in my body isn’t fully dialed to him. Pretending his eyes aren’t very obviously doing a slow, respectful once-over of my dress.
The air shifts—cold breeze from the door, I think, or maybe I’m imagining it—and I instinctively wrap my arms around myself.
Colt sees instantly.
Before I can argue, he shrugs off his coat and drapes it around my shoulders.
Oh…
His coat is warm.
It smells faintly like cedar and clean soap.
The weight of it presses against my collarbone—and so do his fingers, briefly brushing my skin.
I freeze, and he does too.
He pulls his hand back fast. “Sorry—I shouldn’t?—”
“No,” I say quickly. “I’m cold. Thank you.”
His jaw works once. “Yeah. Sure.”
