Page 130 of Colt

“I always wanna keep doing it with you,” I say, laughing.

“Well, we’re going to do that too. But I’m talking about honesty.”

“You think I’ve been honest all night?”

“Lainey, you’ve been honest from the get-go. Why’d you think I couldn’t stand you at first? Because you called me out on my bullshit. It was annoying. And the biggest fucking turn-on ever.”

Butterflies.

Everywhere. In my chest. My belly. My thighs.

“Thanks?”

“It is a compliment. I mean.” He glances down.

I gasp, delighted, when I see that he’s getting hard again. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish.” He runs a hand over his face. “I love fucking you, but being this turned on is⁠—”

“A lot. I know.”

He loves fucking me.

I just might fucking love him.

Too soon. I know it’s way too soon. But if he keeps being, well, him…

“So these ideas you got for the ranch.”

I can tell he’s forcing himself to focus.

“Talk to me.”

I do.

Wild as it sounds, I feel safe to just…dive right in. Share everything. Even though I rarely show people my notebook. This thing is for rough drafts. Rough ideas. It’s my heart and head working themselves out on the page. So much of what’s in here sucks.

But I show Colton anyway.

I walk him through my sketches. His favorite color is yellow, so he likes the drawing I did of a stallion on its hind legs, mane flying, colored with a marigold-hued pencil. He tells me the horseshoe logo I’ve been working on is beautiful but that it looks a lot like the logo Mollie designed for Lucky River Ranch.

We laugh at my notes on how much horses actually poop. He shows me where I drew the lines of my map incorrectly and then tells me about landmarks that will help me find my way around the property.

He uses his blunt fingertip to trace a pair of figures—a man and a woman—I drew watching Doc Sally and her husband, Wyatt, work together the other day. The man’s in a cowboy hat, with his hands on her hips. She looks up at him, her hair trailing down her back.

“This is beautiful. Lainey, this is all…so creative. Really fucking beautiful. Wow. Seeing the ranch through your eyes…” He blinks, sitting up. “It’s brand-new.”

I feel like I’m going to cry again. “Wow. That’s awful kind of you to say. Thank you, Colt.”

He turns his head to look at me. “Will you please call me that? From now on? Because I really hate Colton.”

I really, really dig him telling me so explicitly what he wants.

I dig him being vulnerable like this even more.

I’m in so much trouble.

“Why?”