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“How do you know that? Did you actually hear our conversation?”
“Nah. She told Boxer. Or yelled it at him, actually. He relayed it to me.”
I fell silent and stared out the window, thinking about Shelly, wondering when I’d get to see her again. Maybe she and Mark would want to come for a week when I was settled in Coeur d’Alene.
Colt reached over and set his hand on my thigh. His thumb stroked my skin, offering me a small measure of comfort. It wasn’t the gesture of a man who only wanted to screw me. It was the genuine pull of intimacy.
Everything was happening too fast—my emotions felt like they were at the end of a yoyo. One moment, Colt and I were adversaries, glaring at one another. The next we were sharing details of our pasts while he cooked me food. Add in the bouts of lust and my desire to feel his skin against mine, and I was in danger of my heart and body falling for a man my mind wasn’t sure about.
We pulled into the driveway of Colt’s house and a strange sense of relief overwhelmed me. As much as I didn’t want Colt’s home to feel warm and welcoming, it was.
The house signified comfort. Like a strong embrace. Like shelter from a thunderstorm. It was a place you could plant roots and watch them grow.
Colt looked at me, and whatever he saw on my face made him mutter, “Ah, fuck.”
My gaze was solemn and I nodded. “I know.”
There was something between us, something stronger than just physical desire.
He got out of the truck and slammed the door shut before stalking up the porch steps. I followed but at a much slower pace. I found him in the kitchen, yanking open the refrigerator. He pulled out a beer and popped it. Tension rolled off him, but for all Colt’s scowling intensity, I wasn’t afraid of him.
“I don’t want this,” he gritted out.
“Me. You don’t wantme,” I stated. “Say what you mean.”
“I do want you, Mia, but I don’t want all the bullshit that comes with it.”
“Jesus.”
“I don’t do relationships.”
“I’ve gathered as much.” I raised my eyebrows. “You think I want this? You think I want to get to know you? It will complicate my life and I already have enough complications.”
“This is a mistake.”
“Yeah, I got that memo,” I snapped.
“You should get out of Waco and finish your degree. Marry a nice guy. Have a couple of kids. Buy a minivan. That’s the only way you escape this shit.”
Even though I was angry, his words gave me pause. My hurt and pain went down to a simmer when I realized what Colt was really doing.
He wasn’t protecting himself from getting involved with me. He was protectingmefrom getting involved with him and his lifestyle. He was trying to let me go before I got trapped.
“What would’ve happened between us this morning?” I asked. “If you hadn’t gotten a phone call, what would have happened?”
“You know what would’ve happened. And it would’ve been a mistake.”
I smiled slowly.
A muscle in his jaw ticked. “Why are you grinning?”
“Because you’re catching feelings.”
Instead of answering, he tilted his head back and guzzled his beer. I watched his powerful throat move, entranced by it.
When Colt emptied the bottle, he set the glass down. He looked away from me and pressed his hands to the counter to push against it.
“I don’t have to stay here,” I reminded him. “I should stay with someone else. Zip, maybe.”
