“—and seeing you’re not over him—”
“Um, that is not true.”
“Well, that’s hard.” An arm stretched out so he gripped the back of her headrest, he looked over his shoulder to back out of the spot.
Her heart folded in on itself. “Colt.”
“It is.” His shoulders rolled while he wheeled the truck around and headed for the driveway outlet. “I’m not going to lie about that, Holly.”
“No.” She raked her teeth over her fingernail. She hated this, how the emotional morass that had been the so-called relationship she shared with Scott lingered, hurting Colt now. “I’m . . . mostly over him.”
He whipped an askance look at her, mouth twisted, brows raised. “Sure you are. That’s what that stare-down was about this morning.”
She sighed, subsiding into the seat as he turned into the sparse traffic on Broad. “I don’t know what that was . . . okay, I do. He’s so . . .”
Her frustration emerged as an inarticulate growl, and one corner of his mouth lifted in a grin.
“He does not get to hold an opinion about my personal life.” She folded her arms over her chest. “Not anymore.”
His head whipped in her direction once more, his mouth tight, but he remained silent. He gripped the wheel with one hand, knuckles white.
A thick silence hung in the cab. When he slowed for the red light at Scott Street, he cleared his throat. “Maybe you two need to have a sit down and sort out if you're going to be friends or what and what kind of boundaries that would have.”
Holly stared at him, lips parted in horror. “That is the worst idea you’ve ever had.”
A rusty chuckle fell between them. “It’s a perfectly valid idea. You just don’t like personal conflict.”
He wasn’t wrong, and she particularly disliked wrangling with Scott and his innate cynicism.
The light flared green, vehicles moving ahead of them, and he hooked the left to take them south toward the lake and his parents’ home.
“Colt.” She propped an elbow on the door, resting her temple on her hand, and pouted. “I don’t want to hash stuff out with him. He’s awful.”
“Oh, he’s a total asshole, worse than Ralph.” Humor quirked at his mouth before he sobered. “What do you see in him, anyway?”
“Did, past tense.” She fiddled with the hem of her thin sweater dress, inches above her knees when she was sitting. How to explain the attraction? She tapped a booted toe against the floorboard. “He’s smart, funny, has a pretty defined sense of morality. Dedicated to his work, and he wants to do right by his clients. He loves his daddy and . . .”
The words died away, holding her throat with sharp claws.
“And he loves you.”
“Not enough.” Bitterness twisted through her chest, crumpling her heart into a tight, painful mess. A deep breath helped loosen the tension somewhat. “But I didn’t love him enough either.”
He flicked a sidelong glance at her. “Didn’t. Past tense?”
“I love him, sure.” She rolled a shoulder, an irritable shrug. The whole conversation prickled under her skin. “But I love Tick and David and Mackey, too. I can love him and not want to be with him. I can love him and understand that we are not right for one another.”
Eyes fixed on the two-lane, he nodded. “I don’t want to be a stand-in for him, Holly. Or your rebound.”
Hadn’t she known he didn’t need any more maybes in his life? Fumbling to a sideways position in her seatbelt, she laid a hand on his thigh, snug denim and hard muscle beneath her palm. He shot another quick look her way but didn’t shrug away from her touch.
“I only see you for yourself, Colton.” She tightened her fingers. “I only want you for yourself.”
His head jerked in another taut nod, his mouth grim, a muscle flicking in his cheek. “I need you to be honest with me, especially about that.”
“I am.” Her gaze clung to the stern lines of his face. “I don’t see him or anyone else when I look at you.”
Long fingers covered hers, tangling their hands together on his thigh, and his chin dipped. “Okay.”
