The blushing waitress brings us waters and takes our orders. I order a big salad, since I’m vegetarian, and Colt asks for a burger.
“So.” I say, suddenly nervous.
His arm rests on the booth behind me. “So.” He teases, eyes dancing.
CHAPTER NINE
Colt
I’m still pissedbut I don’t want to upset her. That damned waiter is lucky. When I saw the hurt flash in her eyes, fury exploded inside me. This woman– who probably carries bugs outside instead of killing them– deserves to be treated like a fucking queen.
Earlier this evening, when she walked toward me in her little red dress, I felt like I’d been punched in the gut. In that moment, I wished she was mine. Not just for the night, but forever. And not just her. I wished the baby was mine.
I’d never wanted that before. Wife. Family. All the messiness that came with it.
Messy.
What the fuck was I thinking?
I can hardly keep my hands off her.
“So.” She says to me. So fucking adorable. Innocent. Beautiful.
I slide my gaze over her face, her throat. “So.” My thoughts are wicked ones.
But we have all night. Aside from our experience atLes Miserablesback there, I’ve had an incredible day. “Vegetarian, huh?”
She starts talking about her lifestyle. God, beautiful inside and out. And I’m right. She doesn’t kill spiders that find their way into her cabin. She likes to cook but says she’s not very good at it. She meditates every morning. She loves music but shyly admits she only knows a few of my songs. I don’t care. In fact, I’m happy she’s never been one of those fans…
She unconsciously rubs the top of her stomach. “Do you have help lined up?” I keep imaging my mom’s struggles with me and my brother. “After the baby’s born?”
Maybe I shouldn’t have asked. She bites her lip. “I have a few leads on babysitters. It’s tricky, you know, since Whiskey Creek is so isolated.” Ever the optimist, she flashes me a smile. “Something will come along. It has too. ’Cause I love living up here. Worst case scenario, I move back down to Denver. I have some renters in my mom’s house and their lease is up in two months…but… I’m gonna wait and see. Something will come along,” she repeats herself.
Shit. This girl. Brave. Beautiful. And so damn vulnerable.
“What’s next for you? When you leave Whiskey Creek?”
“Another tour. Launching My newest album.” I smile but my gut sort of clenches when I think about it. I don’t want to sound like I’m complaining. I mean, I’m fucking living my dream come true.
She tilts her head to one side. “Hm.”
Not what I expected. Most people gush over this sort of crap.
I raise one brow. “Hm? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re dreading it.”
Our food arrives and she changes the subject, talking as we eat.
How does she do that?
But her lips distract me. Her salad came garnished with a twist of orange and she’s biting into it. I can’t help watching her mouth.
When we’re finished eating, she’s turned toward me and our hands are clasped together in her lap.
I’m dying now. I’d barely tasted her, and I’m dying for more. I won’t kiss her here. Too many onlookers, and not that I care, but I don’t want to expose her to something she might not be prepared for.
Everybody has cameras these days. For all I know our entire date is being live cast on somebody’s Facebook page.
