Colt’s hold on my upper body gets a little tighter.
Jonas gives a disappointed half-shrug. “He lets me have cinnamon rolls for breakfast.”
I bite back a laugh.Priorities.
“Yeah, I like when he gets us cinnamon rolls for breakfast, too. But maybe he can come over in the morning?”
“Dad used to come for sleepovers.”
Fuck. Fucking shit.
“Uh, um…no. That’s…different.”
I don’t actually know how that’s different. Take that back—it’s worse. Because those were one-night stands, and he had no intention of feeding us breakfast the next morning or spending half the day lounging on the couch with Jonas. He had no intention of sticking around, period.
Colt tugs open the driver’s-side door of my car for me, letting his other hand skim across my back. Completely unthreatened by the mention of my ex. “Dude, I wouldloveto have a sleepover with you guys. But tonight would be boring as hell because it’s already past my bedtime—and yours. Betty and I will be there bright and early with cinnamon rolls. We’ll save the sleepover for a night when we can kick your mom’s ass at video games.”
I playfully scoff. “As if I’m not going to kick both of your asses again.”
Jonas smirks, climbing into the backseat. The door closes, and Colt’s eyes flick to meet mine.
“You’ll let me know when I can sneak in tonight?” he asks in an excited whisper.
I bite my lip flirtatiously, then lean in so my mouth brushes against his ear. I pat an open palm against his chest, lingering to feel the steady thrum of his racing heart.
With clear enunciation, I breathe out the word “No.”
“What? Why?”
“You broke my rules, and I warned you there would be consequences.”
Even if it’s punishing me just as much.
He drags a hand down his face with a dramatic groan. “You’re killing me.”
Lifting up on my feet a little bit, I kiss him softly. His lips are warm, his hands fall naturally to my waist, and it takes every ounce of self-control not to invite him over. Especially when I know I’ll be regretting not having him there as my bare legs glide across cold sheets and I clutch a pillow to my chest, pretending I’m snuggling him.
“See you in the morning.” I slip into the driver’s seat.
His expression’s pained, and his fingers drum on the top edge of the door, hesitating to close it. Hoping against hope I’ll change my mind. After a moment of silence, he reluctantly sighs. “Goodnight, honey. Sleep tight.”
Colt
Didn’t sleep a wink.
And at seven o’clock in the morning, I was first in the door of Anette’s Bakery for a batch of fresh, warm cinnamon rolls.
Now it’s seven-thirty and I’m parked in the driveway, staring up at the window that I’m pretty sure leads to Whit’s bedroom. Full of regret over not asking for a key to her place, because I know she’s not a morning person, and I’d love to crawl into bed with her. Pull her into me and inch my fingers up under the oversized T-shirt she’s probably wearing.
I look at Betty in the passenger seat. She’s unamused. Likely thinking about snuggling up to her kid.
“Don’t worry, Betty Spaghetti. They’re ours for good now.” I scoop my finger through the swirl of whipped cream on top of my coffee and present it to her as a reward for patience. As if she hasn’t already inhaled a puppuccino. “Lots of sleepovers in our future. Maybe one day we’ll even get to live together.”
She barks.My sentiments exactly.
When another ten minutes passes with no sign of life inside the house, I announce that I’m going to call Whit. If she’s mad, I know a few ways I can make it up to her.
Betty blows a huff from her nose as I unlock my cell phone and tap on Whit’s profile. Still listed asFuture Wifebecause, if I’m being honest with myself, even when she pushed meaway—when my family had me questioning everything—deep down, I knew she was it for me.
