I groan as I munch on a crispy piece of bacon. "I haven't had bacon in a cast iron skillet in forever," I say, groaning again.
Colt shifts in his seat as his gaze settles on my mouth, and I realize I should probably stop groaning like I'm having a foodgasm. "I'm glad you like it," he says after a brief pause.
I wipe my mouth with a napkin. "So you're cooking and…you're being nice." He flinches when I say the last part, and I instantly wish I could take it back. "To what do I owe the honor?" I ask in all seriousness.
"How much of last night do you remember?"
I swallow hard and take a drink of orange juice to stall as long as I possible can. "Uh, not much," I confess. "I know I drank way too much, and I know you carried me home." I instantly flush at the memory. "And…" my voice trails off.
"And?" he prompts.
"And I might have tried to take your clothes off," I say, biting my lip to hold back anything else that might blurt from my mouth.
His gaze darkens as he stares at my mouth. I slowly release my lip, and my tongue darts out to soothe the bite. Colton quickly looks down at his plate. "Yeah. You were pretty drunk," he says softly. "I put you to bed, and you insisted on me stayin'."
I gasp, and my fork falls from my hand, clanging against the table. "Oh, my God. Did I ---? Did we ---?"
His brows furrow as he gauges my reaction. "No. We didn't do anything butsleep. Well, you slept, and I made sure you didn't choke on your own vomit. And then…I left."
"Oh," I whisper softly. We both turn our attention back to the food and eat in silence for a while.
"I made you breakfast because I know how it feels to wake up with a nasty hangover. Greasy food always seems to help me, so I thought it would help you too."
I stare down at my now empty plate in awe. I can't believe I ate everything. "Well, I definitely feel better…and full."
He grins. "Good."
I reach across the table and cover his hand with mine. His eyes glance down at my touch. "Thank you, Colt."
He nods curtly and says, "Anytime," before pulling his hand away and standing. He takes both of our now empty plates and silverware and puts them in the sink.
I join him at the sink. "You cooked. Let me clean."
He shakes his head. "I'll do these later."
"I'm sure you're sick and tired of me being in your kitchen all the time anyway," I say.
He stacks more dishes in the sink. "I miss you when you're not here."
I scoff at his words. He must be joking. "You act like you can't stand me being around."
"At first…maybe I couldn't." He turns to me and says, "That's before I realized how much I would miss you when you weren't here." He tucks a loose piece of hair behind my ear, and I melt.
He leans into me, his mouth seeking mine. I let him kiss me, but I can feel a lump forming in my throat. His mood swings are spiraling out of control. He wants me. He doesn't want me. He wants me again. I can't keep giving into him.
His tongue teases my lips, but I'm having none of it. The wound is still too fresh. I can't just suddenly up and forget what he did to me. He slept with me and then threw me out like yesterday's trash. And as if that wasn't bad enough, he flaunted Ruby Sue,his girlfriend, in front of my face a few hours later, putting even more salt on the wound. The memory of that night still kills me.
"No!" I shout, pushing him away. I barely move him an inch, and it's only because he let me. "You don't get to do that, Colt! You don't get to just kiss me and pretend like everything is fine, like you don't have a girlfriend and I'm not dating Tucker and that we're not even together anymore."
He takes a step back and stares at me. "Ruby Sue is not my girlfriend. How many times do I have to tell you that?" he asks angrily.
"No? She's just someone you fuck occasionally?" I accuse.Like me?I think to myself, but don't dare say the words out loud.
"We haven't even slept together since…" His voice trails off, but I desperately need to know what he was going to say.
"Since when?" I demand.
"Since you came into town!"
