Page 131 of Colt

“Just do. Too formal.”

“Okay. But only if you stop calling me Dallas and use Fort Worth instead.”

His laughter fills the room, echoing inside my rib cage. “Sure thing, Fort Worth.”

He takes the notebook in his hands, and we flip through more pages.

“You really wanna give this up to go corporate?” he asks.

“This is silly.”

“Seems like it’s important to you if you’re spending so much time on it. Double U.” He chuckles, pointing to my manic light-bulb moment. “Clever.”

“Beck liked it. I wanna workshop it with Dean too before I finalize anything, but I’m pretty proud of that one. Came up with it after we…did what we did in the barn that day. Go figure. Having an epic orgasm really helps with creativity.”

He thumbs through all the pages I’ve filled. “You’ve been orgasming a lot, then, haven’t you?”

“Come to think of it, I have.”

“Promise me something?”

“That sounds serious.”

“You’ll only orgasm with me going forward. Until you head back to Fort Worth.”

I take a deep inhale, pretending to ponder the proposition. “You work a lot.”

“I’ll find time.”

“I work a lot.”

He’s trailing his fingertips up my arm now. “You know I like a challenge, right? I’m gonna make this happen, honey, come hell or high water.”

My first impulse is to assume he’s full of shit. No way will Colton—wait, Colt—jump through hoops to see me. I’m not that important.

I don’t matter that much.

But you do. And he will.

And he does. The next day. And the day after that too.

CHAPTER 25

Mending Fences

COLT

My heart thumps as I pull up to Mom and Dad’s house.

Dean, however, leaps out of the car with a yelp of utter joy. “I’m starving, Dad. What d’you think Mimi made for dessert? Are you still going to be mad at Auntie Billie and Uncle Ry? I can’t wait to kick his butt at UNO. Is Lainey really going to be here? I hope she’s going to be here.” My son pulls the deck of cards out of his jacket pocket.

Shaking my head, I tuck the flowers I bought from the grocery store underneath my arm and hustle toward the door. We’re running late, thanks to a kindergarten class playdate that went half an hour long. The other room parent and I wanted to get the kids together outside school hours, and a Sunday afternoon ended up being the best time to do it.

“How do you know I’m mad at Auntie Billie?” I ask, although I already know the answer.

“I heard Uncle Tate talking about it. He said you were being a butthead.”

“What did we say about that word?”