“You know my mama doesn’t even call me by my full name?”
“Get over it. Mmmph. I have got to learn how to make this.” She subsided into the settee, under the curve of his elbow, warm along his side. “Why did you think you were getting fired?”
“You never quit, do you?” He bit the words off with his bread and cheese. Okay, she was right – that was damn amazing, hot and melty, a little salty, a lot rich. “I’m just accustomed to messing shit up, so there was every likelihood I’d screwed something up without realizing I’d done so.”
“You don’t mess shit up. That’s your ex-girlfriend still whispering in your ear because you picked a woman, who like your mama, is never satisfied.”
“Wasn’t this supposed to be a celebration?”
“That, too. We’re celebrating with food that might be better than sex.” She smirked while piling cheese on the remaining half of her bread. “Doesn’t mean we can’t sort out your issues and make your life better.”
“My issues.” He snorted. “Like you don’t have any.”
“Oh, I have them.” Her expression tightened, remorse stabbing dead center in his chest. Baguette slice in one hand, she ticked off on her other fingers. “I like being in control, I love my mama but she makes me crazy, I have some slight abandonment issues because of my daddy’s drinking and their divorce–”
Colt snorted. He could get that one. Sue did okay now, though.
“--I have zero filter sometimes,andI spent way too long waiting on the wrong man to line up with my expectations.”
A frown tugged his brows together hard. Yeah, he knew this past year had to have been hard on her. “I’m sorry.”
She waved the apology away. “I made that choice, and I’ve made the choice to move on and stop living there. Oh, yay . . . pasta.”
He glanced up, flashing a smile as Teresa arrived with their entrees. Yep, that steak was worth driving a half-hour for, and if he was lucky, he might get to savor it in peace–
“I’ve watched you doing your job, Colt.” With her fork, she cut a fat pasta square in half. “You’re good at it, and you’re good with people. Tyler had her own set of issues, which is why you two were never going to really work although I know you cared about her, and you really have to quit thinking you’re a screw up because you’re . . .stoptuning me out.”
Her elbow dug into his ribs hard enough he winced, despite the double layer of his shirt and blazer. He finished cutting a piece of steak. “Not tuning you out, Holly. Trying to eat my supper.”
“Oh, my Lord.” Sheer amusement colored her soft exclamation, and her eyes sparkled in the dim light. “Gene is coming out of your mouth.”
“Yep. He does that sometimes.” He sectioned off another bite and dragged the edge through the pan gravy meldingpeppercorns with a hint of brandy. That hint wouldn’t hurt him, and he’d never liked brandy as a drink anyway.
She popped half of a ravioli in her mouth. Scooping up a forkful of rich mashed potatoes, he waited.
“I hate when you down yourself.” This time, her voice was quiet, smaller with her level of seriousness. He swung his gaze sideways to find her watching him, blue eyes dark and solemn. She folded her fingers around his leg, just above his knee, in a gentle squeeze. “You’re better than that.”
His throat closed up, and he swallowed hard. “Thank you.”
“And that is why Tyler wasn’t good enough for you.” She waved her fork in a circle and stabbed a hapless pillow of pasta. “See, it’s okay to want to help your partner improve, but you do it by building them up, not tearing them down.”
“I suppose you’re going to give me at least two pieces of cited evidence to support that thesis.” How many times had he had to listen to Mr. Davis say those words?
Her lips twitched. “Lorraine working double shifts so David could take time off to get his paramedic upgrade.”
“That’s one.” He pointed his fork at her. “By the way, Lorraine should be possessive there.”
“Lorraine is possessive.” Her lips closed about another morsel of pasta, and he shut off the visual part of his brain. They weren’tthatkind of friends either. “Del’s working two jobs and scheduling them around Barb’s student teaching.”
“There’s two. Nice use of the possessive.” He grinned over a sip of water. “Mr. Davis would be proud.”
“Oh, wait.” She slapped the table hard enough the couple one spot over jumped and turned wide eyes in their direction. Colt lifted a hand in . . . well, hell. Not apology, but maybe acknowledgement. Hadn’t they ever been in the middle of ahurricane before? Sometimes, it was noisy. Holly dug in her bag and came up with her phone. “I have pictorial evidence.”
“Can’t wait.”
“Don’t be a jerk. Look.” She waved the device under his nose, and he steadied it with a hand on her wrist, keeping his fingers as still as possible so his thumb didn’t stroke over her pulsepoint or anything like that. “See?”
He wasn’t sure what he was seeing, other than a post to a private group on FitMe, a running route in the shape of a rough oval with the captionPR 19:51 #haterunning #butloveher. That made no sense–
