“This was a beautiful night.” Her stomach shaky, she twined her fingers together in her lap. “And I feel like I ruined it–”
“Yeah, hush that up.” He shifted his arm to cup her chin. “It’s been a great night, and we should have lots of nights in front of us. You’re kind of a marshmallow as well as high maintenance, aren’t you?”
Her damp lashes fell. “Oh, my Lord, Colt, I’m going to kill you.”
His dark chuckle feathered over her cheek before he kissed her, a light brush of his mouth against hers. “You even talk to me like Louise talks to Gene.”
“Not like D and Sue?” With another sniffle, she leaned back an inch or so and swiped at her nose with his handkerchief.
“No.” She sensed rather than saw the slight stiffening of his long body. “Don’t get me wrong, they love each other. He dotes on her and they’re sweet to each other, but there’s a lot . . . I don’t know how to explain it. They’ve had a hard time of it.”
She nodded. She wouldn’t know much about living in that. Daddy had left when she was four or five, and she’d seen him every other weekend until she was eighteen. When he’d been able to stop paying child support, his desire to visit with her had evaporated as well.
Brushing his thumb over her chin, he tilted his head toward the Burg. “We should get a cookie and split it.”
She nodded, clean cedar and ocean salt tickling her nose as he rose and held out a hand. She laid her fingers in his without hesitation, and he tugged her to her feet, then under the curve of his arm.
He rubbed her biceps. “Your nose gets blotchy when you cry.”
Elbowing his ribs, hard, she bumped her hip against his. “You’re not supposed to say that out loud.”
“It’s nice to know.” He eased them around an older couple doddering toward Jonah’s. “I’ll be able to see when you’ve been upset. You cry a lot?”
“No.” Somehow, breaking down in front of him had lost its sting. A shuddering sigh worked up from her chest, leaving her lighter and less stressed, and he hugged her into his side.
“Oatmeal raisin, right?”
“No.” She shot him a horrified look. “Raisins are an abomination. We’re getting the kitchen-sink one.”
“No, we are not.” He released a light scoff. “Those have peanuts in them.”
“You don’t eat peanuts?”
“In a Coke, sure? In a cookie? Hell, no.”
Oh, Lord, did he do that thing with the peanuts poured in a Coke, too, like Tick? This time her shudder was one of disgust. “Peanut butter chocolate chip, then.”
“How about plain ol’ chocolate chip?” He reached for the door as they reached the shop and its long, narrow layout. “Kind of a purist when it comes to my baked goods.”
“Snickerdoodle.” She inhaled the wave of sweet, buttery goodness that washed over them.
“Now you’re talking. Maybe a cup of coffee to go with that.” He nudged her ahead of him, palming the left cheek of her ass. She glared over her shoulder, and he chuckled, warm and rich as the cookies waiting for them. “Come on, little girl, and let’s enjoy the rest of this night.”
Chapter Six
Hey, man, come over to the Cue Club and watch the game with me and Andy
“No, thanks.” Colt dropped the phone on the coffee table. The mood he was in, the funk he’d been fighting most of the day, he didn’t need to be a bar. Tonight he was afraid his best intentions would evaporate. Better to sit his ass on the couch, watch the UGA game, and mope.
Immature? Maybe.
Smart as hell? Definitely.
His golf game had been shit today, his arms so sore from working the heavy bag early in the morning he could barely swing. What he should have done was run out his anger and frustration, but he’d really needed the outlet of putting his knuckles into the unyielding bag.
He might have pretended he was putting his knuckles into Scott Barlow’s face, but that was a secret all his own.
The hell of it was he wasn’t even sure why he was mad. He wasn’t angry with Holly – he’d told the truth when he’d thanked her for being honest. He needed to know up front if her emotions weren’t all in with him. But she’d cried and there’d been real pain in her retelling of the complicated past she shared with Barlow.
