Page 161 of Colt

I’d very much like it to.

“Won’t hurt to try,” I say. “C’mon, let’s go get our girl.”

“Let’s go!”

CHAPTER 32

New Beginnings

LAINEY

“How about a round of rose and thorn?” Billie asks, setting down her margarita. “But the explicit version, now that Dad’s not here to lecture us about being degenerates and drunks.”

Sipping my own margarita—the Tajín rim means it’s a little salty, a little spicy, and a little sweet, just how I like it—I can’t help but smile.

“There’s an explicit version?” I ask.

Colt settles his arm over my shoulders, the vinyl booth creaking as he angles his body toward mine. “If Billie’s playing, there is.”

Ryder thumbs his girlfriend’s chin. “Always such a lady.”

“You’d be bored if I were ladylike,” Billie replies, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “Hell, I’d be bored.”

“Of course I’d be bored. Why do you think I ended up with a hellion instead?” he asks, grinning.

She bites her lip. “Want me to raise some hell tonight?”

“Absolutely.”

“You’re on.” Her arm moves underneath the table.

Ryder smiles. “Always on for you.”

“Y’all are stupid,” Beck says. “It’s actually kind of cute. But also, please don’t get arrested for having sex in public.”

Colt groans, but I see the smile flirting at the edges of his mouth. “Can you not go there? I just stopped being pissed about all this.”

“Sorry, Colt,” Ryder says. “Don’t mean to rub it in your face.”

Billie lifts a suggestive eyebrow. “I kinda do.”

There’s seven—no, eight of us squeezed into one of the sticky booths tucked beside the bar at the Rattler. It’s Friday night again, and we’re waiting for Frisky Whiskey to go on. This time, all the Wallace siblings came out with us.

So did Ryder and a couple of his brothers, Cash included. He and Mollie are currently canoodling at the bar, Shiner Bocks in hand.

My chest twists. Do Colt and I look that happy together?

Will we be that happy however many years into our relationship?

I still can’t believe I’m thinking in those terms now. Before, I was taking things day by day. Now all of a sudden, I’m wondering if Hartsville is home.

Certainly feels like it tonight. I’m smushed in between Colt and Beck, the two of them nursing their beers while I marvel at the very full table I’m sitting at.

So many handsome cowboys.

One handsome cowboy in particular moves his thumb idly over the exposed skin of my nape.

I’m a little buzzed. Very full from the meal we just ate next door at the Homestead Hen. Excited for the night ahead.