Page 89 of Colt

“Can’t you tell by how well I handle stress and you and, well, everything else?” He grins. “Yes, I’m in therapy. Working through some stuff.”

I lick my lips. Never would’ve guessed this gruff cowboy would be doing that kind of digging. But he is. And I respect the hell out of him for it.

“Good for you,” I manage. “So, wait, you think you’re jealous of Billie and Ryder’s relationship?”

“Yeah. That they found each other, you know? And maybe made better choices than I did.”

I want him to tell me about those choices. At this point, I’m dying to know this man’s story. But my instincts are telling me not to push too hard. He’ll tell me if—when—he’s ready.

“Good for you working through that stuff,” I say. “Just so you know, men going to therapy is kind of the sexiest thing ever.”

He opens the door, a pleasant gust of warm evening air greeting us. Crickets pulse in the background.

He lets out a low chuckle as he reaches up to curl his hand over the top of the door. “You think I’m sexy?”

Tugging on my bottom lip with my teeth, I nod. “A little, yeah.”

“Just a little?”

Christ, can we fuck already?

“Fine. More than a little.”

He groans. “Text me when you get home?”

“Since when do you care whether I get taken out by a bear?”

“Since my son became obsessed with you. And yeah, bear maulings are bad for business.”

“You would say that.” God, I wish I could quit smiling. Must. Go. Now. “Thanks again for dinner. This really was a treat.”

“You need to get out more.”

I step through the door. “No shit. You need to be less grumpy like this all the time. Although I get it.”

He follows me outside and closes the door behind him. “Get what?”

“Why you’re grumpy. It’s because you’re angry.” I turn my head, and our gazes do that colliding thing. The air between us crackles. “I’m not afraid of it, you know. Your anger.”

“Oh, Dallas, I know.”

“But I’m starting to understand it. Maybe because I’m angry too. I could probably work on accepting some things in my life too. Wow, Colt, do I actually have something to learn from you?”

The expression in his eyes morphs. Becomes hungry.

“You just used it,” he says. “My name. The one I like.”

I hadn’t even realized it. “Oh. You’re welcome.”

“I’m teachin’ you to ride.” His eyes flick over my body. “But that’s not the only thing I got expertise in. I got plenty to teach you.”

I dig my teeth into my bottom lip, fighting a smile. “I thought we weren’t going to tee each other up anymore?”

“When the hell did we ever agree to that?”

“I…okay, fine, I don’t think we did.” I clear my throat. “Anyway. You have a lot on your plate. Doing all this”—I glance back at the house—“all by yourself is unfair. You didn’t ask for things to be this way. But you’re making the best of it, even though it’s gotta be overwhelming and hard and just—yeah, so damn thankless sometimes.”

He doesn’t say anything. My pulse thrums in my ears. For a second, I think I’ve overstepped. Maybe he just wanted to keep flirting instead of getting real or deep.