Page 116 of Colt

I love the feel of Colton’s arm wrapped around me.

Love the feel of being claimed, as fucked-up as that sounds. Maybe because it’s never happened to me before. I like how Colton just goes for it. No hesitation. No second guesses.

In the back of my mind, I do worry a little what people might think if they saw us like this. Really, I worry the Wallaces or their employees might see us and make some not-so-great assumptions.

Then again, I’m not sticking around. Once I wrap up this job, I’ll probably never come back to Hartsville. What reason would I have to visit?

I’m also not going to be taking on more projects like this going forward. I don’t have to worry about my professional reputation getting tarnished because I’ll (hopefully) be starting over in a brand-new field at a brand-new company.

I can have a little fun. Because that’s all this can be—fun. Even if Colton gets it and is shockingly easy to talk to and makes me feel like I’m the only woman in the room.

Someday, I’ll find someone like him who wants the same life as I do. Because as much as Colton and I connect on some things, on others, we’re complete opposites.

So I put my hand on his back and manage to say, “A Shiner Bock sounds great, thanks.”

“I’ll skip the tequila tonight.” Colton’s hand slips to my ass and he looks down at me, eyes dark. “I’m driving.”

Driving me up the fucking wall. You’re so good at it, Colton.

So good at everything you do.

I cannot wait for him to finally do me.

We grab our beers at the bar. Sally is there, and she introduces us to the rest of the band. I about die when she introduces her mother, Patsy, as the band’s lead singer.

“This is the coolest thing ever! How long have y’all been in a band together?” I ask.

Sally and Patsy look at each other and shrug. “Since Sally turned twenty-one and was able to walk through those doors,” Patsy says, nodding at the bar’s entrance. “Haven’t looked back since.”

Sally smiles, resting her head on her mom’s shoulder. “Mom’s a legend. I’m just trying to keep up.”

“You’re the legend, honey. Operating on thoroughbreds by day, fiddling like a pro by night.” Patsy’s eyes shine. “I’m so proud of you.”

Seeing them interact so easily—one doesn’t seem to be babysitting the other—my heart turns over. I wouldn’t say I’m jealous, because I know jealousy isn’t going to get me anywhere.

I just wish my mom were lit up like that.

I wish she’d do something fun, something that got her outside the damn house, like that.

People are pouring into the honky-tonk, greeting each other with hugs, kisses, high fives.

I’ve never seen so many cowboy hats—or backward baseball hats—in my life.

I am in heaven. Especially when a guy passing by blatantly checks me out and Colton yanks me closer, draping his arm over my shoulder so that I’m tucked snugly into his side.

He’s clearly staking his claim. It’s inappropriate.

It’s wildly sexy.

My head barely comes up to his collarbone. He feels solid and warm against me. Safe. Even though he’s anything but.

A little while later, Sally, Patsy, and the rest of Frisky Whiskey take the stage. The growing crowd erupts in hoots and hollers. Because I’m a little buzzed, I join in, stomping my feet on the sticky floor.

I half expect Colton to recoil. Or stay silent at the very least.

I guess I need to stop assuming so much, because suddenly he’s letting out the loudest whistle I think I’ve ever heard.

“Holy shit!” I yell, laughing.