“We’re gonna stay here for a bit longer,” Roger said, almost robotically. “Maybe you should take Colette home.”
Simone nuzzled Roger in the neck, and he shivered.
Drinking the last of his beer, Marshall slammed the glass on the table and searched Colette’s eyes for a reaction. She looked down at her half-full pint and nodded slowly.
“Yeah, can you take me home? I think I’ve had enough,” she said, standing and reaching for her coat. She didn’t need to ask him twice. He followed her out of the bar, into the brisk night air.
Walking to his truck, he opened the passenger door and kept a hand on her back without touching it, just to make sure she got into the truck safely. They drove home silently, a twangy country song on the radio filling the silence. Colette was right, country music was consistent with its sound and song topics.
“Too bad there’s not an eighties radio station, eh?” he said in a light tone. Guilt still ate at him for being manipulative and for forcing Evan to pass on her. She didn’t deserve to be passed on. But Evan wouldn’t be able to treat Colette the way she deserved. In reality, even if it didn’t sit well with him, he was doing her a favor.
“Yeah, I think there is in the city. I can see how it’s not popular enough here. People just don’t appreciate how good that music is.” She snorted, staring out into the dark fields on the side of the highway.
He parked his truck at the main house. Holding a hand out to Colette to help her down, he thrilled at the warmth of her palm touching his, like it always belonged there. He probably held her hand for a moment too long, but it was hard to let go. Tucking his hands in his pockets, he walked beside her in silence to the door of the guest house.
“Thanks for walking me back,” she said, reaching into the house to turn on the lights and finding them in the correct place this time. Somehow, he was disappointed. He liked doing things for her.
They watched each other for a moment. Colette swallowed, her mouth moving as though words were sitting in there and waiting to come out.
“Hey, is Evan always flirty like that?” she asked him, biting her bottom lip. “He’s really nice.”
Marshall rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, he is. He’s a great guy, but you shouldn’t get your hopes up in that direction.”
Her dark brows raised; Colette tilted her head. “What’s going on, Marshall?” she asked, crossing her arms and frowning. “Evan’s a great guy, your best friend. Why would you talk me out of seeing him?”
Marshall tightened his fists at his side, puffs of breath floating into the night.
“You don’t know him like I do,” Marshall explained, his tone brisk. “He’s attracted to a certain type of woman. I think it’s best if you don’t pursue it, you’ll only get hurt.”
She lowered her head and looked away, embarrassed.
He huffed, grateful that it seemed she finally understood.
“I get it,” she said as she turned. “I’m not his type. I’m not like the other gorgeous women he was flirting with when we arrived at the bar. I’m no Jessica.”
Marshall cleared his throat, his eyes flaring. How could he tell her that he had chased Evan away because he didn’t like anyone else having their hands on her? Like a possessive fool, he wanted her all for himself.
He nodded, speechless at the sadness in her eyes.
He did that. He put it there.
“Don’t compare yourself to Jessica. It’s not about you, just put that out of your mind. Evan is just…Evan. He likes to play around.”
She nodded, crossing her arms against the chill of the night. He needed to leave so that she could be warm again. Safe from the cold, and from him.
“Goodnight, Marshall,” she said and shivered. He wished her goodnight and turned on his heel, walking in the direction of the main house. He could feel her gaze sliding up his spine as she watched him leave. Unable to get her hurt expression out of his mind, he stopped.
Eyes looking at the sky for strength, Marshall wished he was a strong man. Colette made his insides crumble like soft vanilla cake.
“Marshall?” her voice called out behind him. She had been watching him walk away.
Now she was going to see him do something really, really stupid.
But he couldn’t help himself where she was concerned. And he didn’t want to anymore.
“Fuck.”
CHAPTER 21
