Page 37 of Kicking Up Dust

But that’s not my business.

In fact, any part of me that wanted to psychoanalyze it gets up and walks away when Colt enters the arena.

“Fuck, it’s hot out there.”

He’s sweating just as much as Jameson is.

And he’s just as filthy.

The only difference is that he lifts the bottom of his shirt to wipe off his face instead of using his shirt sleeve.

And yet, as my eyes trail down over his glistening abs and the tattoos along his sides, I think that might be all the difference that matters. Tate and Jameson continue to bicker, but it’s background noise at this point. A bead of sweat glides down Colt’s stomach, treating his muscles like a maze before it disappears into the waistband of his Calvin Kleins. I’ve never in my life been jealous of sweat before, but I suppose there’s a first for everything.

By the time I realize I’m gawking, it’s too late. My eyes snap up to Colt’s but he just winks, finally dropping his shirt. How long had he been standing there on display? Done with wiping his face yet letting me drink my fill? My face gets hot at the thought.

“I think I’m gonna head inside for a nap after all,” I tell the group at large, accidentally interrupting Tate. She pouts a bit, but doesn’t argue. Who would argue with a pregnant woman claiming a need for rest? No one sane. And Tate just might be the sanest one in this family.

“I’ll walk you back,” Colt offers with a cocky grin.

“No, that’s okay. It’s not far. Thank you for letting me hang out with you today, Tate. Maybe we can do it again tomorrow, depending on what you’re doing?”

Tate smiles like I’ve offered her a million dollars. “Definitely.”

I nod back, slipping past Colt.

But not before he whispers, “Think of me.”

I’d like to say I don’t think of him.

I’d like to say I jump in the shower and I wash myself without even remembering what had me all hot and bothered in the first place.

But the mess in my panties doesn’t lie, and there’s no one here to see how quickly I reach for the rose toy stashed away in my underwear drawer on my way to the bathroom. The fall of the water from the shower should mask the sound of the vibrations, but just in case, I set my phone on the counter and set it to shuffle my playlist.

If Colt’s sweaty abs and crooked grin are on my mind when the toy suctions to my clit, well then that’s no one’s business but my own. I’ve always been a bit too loud, but I try my best to muffle my sounds with my hand, praying that the walls are thick enough no one can make out Colt’s name falling from my lips when I come.

I finish washing up with jellied legs and dry off, grabbing my phone, and pausing the now-overstimulating music as I make my way to the bed. A nap sounds great after all.

What’s waiting on my phone has the possibility of rest melting away though.

Colt:

You should let me take care of you next time.

TWENTY

BLAIR

22 Weeks

Baby is the size of a feed scoop

This doctor is taking forever, and I have to pee so bad I think I’ll probably flood the toilet when I finally get to go. Beside me, Colt’s knee is bouncing a mile a minute and I’m trying very, very hard not to get annoyed by it.

There was, apparently, only one OB-GYN in Cedar Creek and he’d delivered every kid in this city, including Colt and his siblings. He was also talkative as hell, if the fact that he was twenty minutes behind schedule was anything to go by. There couldn’t possibly be enough pregnant people in Cedar Creek right now to warrant an over-full schedule.

It had also taken forever to get an appointment because transferring the paperwork from my doctor in California to Dr. Abernathy had practically been rocket science. On his end. He said he’d only dealt with it a handful of times in his whole career, so he was out of practice.

“Colton, if you do not stop bouncing your knee, I will find a way to break it in half.”