Me:LOL Give me 10 more minutes then.
Colt:Take your time. You’re worth the wait.
My world feels more colorful, even just texting with him. I want to send a heart emoji, but that’s too much. I send a thumbs up and go back to my wardrobe.
After five more minutes, I settle on a knit, off-the-shoulder red dress. It’s brazen. I don’t believe it was intended for a woman whose waist was larger than her bust, but it meets all of Colt’s criteria. And I must admit, the affect pleases me.
I slip my feet into a pair of strappy sandals. I want to wear heels but my balance isn’t the same these days. Since its mid-September, I opt for a sweater, grab my purse, and then rush out the door.
His truck, a shiny black pickup, is parked in the round-about drive outside the offices but I barely notice it.
My eyes are drawn to its owner, the man lounging against it. With such a perfect male specimen, I can hardly look anywhere else.
He’s tamed his hair somewhat, not completely. I’m glad. Steely eyes watch me approach with unnerving intensity. He’s wearing a jacket and tie with a white button-up shirt and jeans. The man would look good in everything. Or nothing. I want to touch him. Press my body against him.
He seems to read my mind and a glint of wickedness enters his gaze.
When I’m just a few feet away, he steps forward and grazes his lips behind my ear. “You look fucking sensational,” he growls.
All the butterflies are jumping, and my girly parts want to skip dinner, ignore my current body issues, and go back to his cabin. His cologne is subtle. It teases me. I imagine running my lips down his chest, following the V in search of his manly treasures…
“Thank you.” It comes out as a whisper. His nearness almost robs me of speech. He opens the door and assists me into the passenger seat. A perfect gentleman. I strap on the seatbelt while he goes around to the other side.
This feels like a date.
Is it?
He climbs into the driver’s side and starts the engine. A smile dances on his lips.
“What are you thinking?” This is one of those questions men seem to hate, but it escapes anyhow.
He glances my way. “You really want to know?”
“I do.”
“I’m thinking…” He looks both ways before turning onto the main road. “…that your baby’s father has to be the biggest ass to ever live.” He presses on the gas, gaining speed. “Unless you sent him packing, in which case I almost feel sorry for the poor bastard. Except, I really don’t. His loss is my gain tonight. What happened?”
It feels perfectly natural to tell him about Brent. Where to start…? “Brent was one of Whiskey Creek’s assistant managers.” Colt shakes his head at this information. “We dated for about five months. It felt pretty serious, you know? So…” I can’t really tell him about the condom problem. Can I?
“So?” He nudges me.
I blow out a long sigh. “Let me ask you a question?” I’m curious. “Is there really that much of a difference for men to have sex without a condom, as opposed to wearing one.”
Colt’s answer is immediate. “I wouldn’t know.”
“What?”
“I’ve never had sex without a condom.”
We drive in silence for almost a minute, the scenery virtually unnoticed by me. “Never?’ I ask.
“Never,” he confirms.
“Hm.” This information gives me pause to reconsider everything Brent ever told me.
“Good old Brent convince you he wasn’t getting enough satisfaction?”
It’s an impertinent question, but I nod. When I realize Colt’s eyes are on the road, I verbalize my answer with what almost sounds like a croak. “Yes.”
