“Do you need a fresh bandage for your thumb?” Colt’s words jolt me back to the present. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. It’s just been a long day. I’m sure there are bandages in the cabin.”
The internal war in Colt plays out on his face, and I wonder if this is part of what he means by being unhappy with himself.
“Can I give you a spare bandage, just in case?” His voice is soft, almost timid, and I nod.
“I won’t say no. Thank you.”
Colt ducks into a small room in the barn, and the door hangs open while he rummages around an old first-aid box. After a few minutes, he holds up a couple of fresh bandages while closing the door behind him.
“I’ll walk you to your, uh, door.”
A pink flush shows on his neck even in the low light, and I silently agree. Our feet crunch in the yard as we cross to my cabin, and I’m still so stuck on everything he said today that I don’t notice we’re already standing outside my door.
“I had a great day, Ethan. One of the best days in a long time.”
“I did, too. You’re a great teacher, and I think I need to practice fishing more for next time.”
His smile picks up. “Yeah? You want to do it again?”
“Definitely.”
We stand there in the glow of the fluorescent light on my porch, staring at each other, and I’m not sure why he walked me here. He’s not the type to look for sex so soon, and for once, I agree.
“We should probably get some rest. Thank you again.”
“I really want to kiss you again,” Colt whispers.
I reach for him, and his strong hands are cupping my face before my hands meet his chest. He tastes a little smoky and sweet from the cigar earlier, and I like it more than I thought I would. My hands slide up his muscled arms, and my mind goes to places again, thinking of what it might feel like to be wrapped up in them.
Colt breaks our kiss slowly and steps away. “I, um, I wanted to ask you for your number before I kissed you, but I got carriedaway.”
“My phone number?”
He nods and hands his cell to me. “Put your number in. If I try, we’ll be here until sunrise.”
With a quiet laugh, I enter my number and name and send myself a text to show him.
“All set. Text me, video, or call. Although with the reception here, I’m not sure how often things will come through.”
Colt nods and slides his phone back into his pocket.
“Goodnight, Ethan.”
He spins and walks away, and I call out. “Goodnight, Colt. Drive safe.”
After closing the door behind me and sagging against it, the day’s activity hits me, and I stagger into the shower with the most contented bone-tired exhaustion I’ve ever had. I laugh when I realize he never gave me the extra Band-Aids. I don’t think I need them, but I have a feeling Colt wanted more time, and it was a convenient excuse. The grin on my face grows with that thought.
After I’m dry and in a pair of sweatpants, I pour a bowl of cereal as a snack and, out of habit, pick up my phone.
There’s a single text waiting from Colt.
Colt
I made it home safe. I didn’t give you the bandages.
I snort a laugh, but a vise squeezes my chest, and I absently rub my hand there.
