Page 44 of The One Who Never Left: Colter

Before he could say another word, a petite brunette approached the table. She was dressed in a short black skirt, a T-shirt that said, Shut your Pie Hole, and a server’s apron. She was also wearing a smile that was dialed to one-hundred percent flirt.

She measured him up in a slow, deliberate look. “Colter Callahan. In the flesh.”

“Hey, DeAnne.”

“What do we owe the pleasure?” she teased.

He forced a smile, wishing the floor would open up and take him whole. “Just grabbing a bite before work.” She arched a brow, clearly unimpressed. “DeAnne, this is Sutton and her daughter, Lynlee.”

“Hi, Miss DeAnne,” Lynlee said. “Can I haves pancakes with whipped cream?”

“Pancakes, yes,” Sutton said. “Whipped cream before school is no go.”

Had Colter not been freaking out about Sutton meeting one of his booty-calls, he would have laughed. But having his two worlds collide was no laughing matter.

He’d never been ashamed of his arrangements with women before. Casual, uncomplicated, no strings—fine with him. But Sutton changed the equation and, suddenly, the rules felt shaky.

Take the other night, for instance. He’d met a woman at the bar who clearly wanted a fun night with no expectations beyond sex. Normally, he’d have leaned into that. Instead, he’d carefully steered the conversation elsewhere. Then Cheryl texted him, asking to see him again and, for the first time in forever, he didn’t know how to answer.

While part of him recognized a sure thing when he saw it, another part—one he couldn’t ignore—was thinking about someone off-limits. So, he’d said yes to the date with Cheryl.

And now? Yeah, he was regretting it big time.

“You bet, sweetheart. And this is for you.” DeAnne set a paper placemat that had shapes on it and a pack of crayons in front of Lynlee.

“Thank yous, Miss DeAnne.”

DeAnne winked at the kid, then looked at Sutton. “And what can I get you, Mom?”

“I’ll have the French toast.”

DeAnne set her gaze on Colter. “What will it be, Colty? The regular? Chicken fried steak with home potatoes, biscuits, and bacon?” she asked, letting everyone know that she had already buttered his biscuits and had shared enough morning afters to have memorized his order.

“That’s right.”

“I’ll put this in and be back in a sec. Do your best not to miss me.”

Colter didn’t have to answer because DeAnne was already walking away, swinging her hips like everyone was watching. And every male in the place was—except for him. His gaze was locked on Sutton.

“Colty?” she asked with a shit-eating grin.

“I’ve known DeAnne since first grade,” he explained.

“Seems like you know her in many ways.”

He folded his arms and rested them on the table. “Does that bother you?”

“Nope. But it clearly bothers you. Why?”

Colter looked at Lynlee to make sure she wasn’t listening. The kid was so focused on her coloring that a murder of zombies could run through and she wouldn’t notice.

“I’m a situationship kind of guy.”

“What you do outside of work doesn’t concern me.”

The thought that she might think otherwise—might lump him in with every careless man who blurred lines and took liberties—made heat crawl up his neck. It mattered more than it should have, her opinion of him but, in that moment, it felt like the most important thing in the room.

“I just don’t want you to think I don’t respect women.”