"I'm running away," I say simply.
His eyebrows raise. "From?"
"My life." I take a sip of beer, using it as an excuse to look away from his intense gaze. "Or what was supposed to be my life, anyway."
"That's pretty vague."
"Yeah." I set the bottle down, tracing patterns in the condensation. "I'm not sure I'm ready to talk about it yet. Is that okay?"
"Completely okay." He doesn't push, doesn't press for details. Just accepts my boundary like it's the most natural thing in the world. "What about Blackwater Falls specifically? Why here?"
That I can answer. "My dad grew up here. He passed away a few years ago, but he always talked about this place. Made it sound... I don't know. Safe, I guess."
"I'm sorry about your dad." Colt's voice is sincere, no platitudes or empty condolences. "Was he right? Does it feel safe?"
I consider this. "I don't know yet. I only got here yesterday."
"Yesterday?" He leans forward, interested. "So, last night at the bar was your first night in town?"
"Yeah." I can feel myself blushing again. "Not exactly the best first impression to make."
"I don't know." That smile is back, the one that does stupid things to my insides. "I thought it was a pretty memorable first impression."
"Memorable isn't always good."
"True." He tilts his head, "But in this case? Definitely good. At least from my perspective."
"Even though I ran away?"
"Even though." He takes a drink, then sets his bottle down. "For what it's worth, I get it now. Starting over in a new place, trying to escape whatever you're running from, probably not the best time to hook up with a stranger in a bathroom."
"Probably not," I agree softly.
"But you came back anyway."
"I did."
"Why?"
It's a fair question. One I've been asking myself all day. Why did I come back? Why am I sitting here having a beer with a man I barely know when I should be home licking my wounds and planning my future?
"Because I wanted to see you again," I admit. "And because... because you made me feel something other than miserable for the first time in days. And I know that's probably not fair to you, using you as a distraction or whatever, but—"
"Hey." He reaches across the table, his hand covering mine. "I don't mind being a distraction. Especially if it means I get to sit here talking to you instead of dancing with someone I don't give a shit about."
I pull my hand back, wrapping it around my beer bottle instead. "You could be dancing with one of those girls, though. The pretty ones. The skinny ones." I gesture vaguely toward the dance floor where several women are moving to the music, all of them effortlessly beautiful in that way I've never managed to be.
Colt follows my gaze, then looks back at me with a confused expression. "Why would I want to do that?"
"Because they're... I mean, look at them." I take a long drink, liquid courage. "They're gorgeous. And I'm..." I trail off, not sure how to finish that sentence without sounding pathetic.
"You're what?" He leans forward, elbows on the table. "Because from where I'm sitting, you're the best-looking woman in this entire bar."
I actually laugh at that. Can't help it. "You don't have to say that."
"I'm not saying it because I have to. I'm saying it because it's true." His expression is completely serious now. "Harper, I don't care if someone's skinny or not. That's never been what attracts me to a woman."
"Then what does?" The question comes out before I can stop it, and I immediately wish I could take it back. Too personal. Too revealing of my own insecurities.
