Page 5 of Colton’s Mate

Miranda was squirming in his grasp. Damn, she was slippery with martini all over her.

“She poured that drink on me! On purpose!”

Callie mouthed to Colt, I did.

She looked so pleased with herself, Colt couldn’t help it. He started laughing.

Miranda wrenched herself out of his hold and turned on him. “Shut up. I hope your pecker shrivels up and falls off.”

She stomped off towards the bathroom.

Callie watched her go, then turned back to Colt. “You are so not getting laid tonight, my friend.”

Colt nodded. “Pretty sure I wasn’t anyway.”

Somebody yelled at Callie that her order was up, and she waved a dismissive hand in their direction.

Colt asked, “Won’t they get pissed off if you’re talking to me instead of serving drinks?”

“I don’t give a fuck,” she said. “It won’t kill them to wait a minute. I spent the last year jumping whenever Caleb yelled at me. I’m done.”

“Good for you.” He meant it. Caleb had hurt and abused her, and Colt liked that she wasn’t letting people push her around anymore.

She was still looking at him. He hadn’t realized how pretty her eyes were—blue-gray like storm clouds. “So, the crazy chick, she said something about me ruining her date, because you’re all hung up on me? Does she know something I don’t?”

Damn. This was embarrassing. He wasn’t hung up on her—only his leopard was. A little. Not much at all.

“She’s projecting,” Colt said. “She spent the whole night sending ‘I’m having so much fun without you’ selfies to her ex, so I guess she thinks everyone’s in the same place she is.”

“Ah.” Callie nodded. “Is that why she said she was going to send me selfies of you two making out?”

Colt rolled his eyes. “We weren’t making out. And anyway, how do you take a selfie of yourself making out? You can’t look at the camera and make out at the same time.”

Callie cocked her head, a glint in her eyes. “You think?” She pulled her phone out of her apron pocket, held it up, and then grabbed Colt around the back of the neck and planted one on him. He saw a flash out of the corner of his eye as she snapped the picture.

Colt, his leopard, and his owl were all frozen. Callie lips! He felt warmth expand in his chest, and he was all of a sudden getting a boner.

That was really embarrassing.

It didn’t last long. The next second they were deluged by an ice-cold peach martini.

Boner gone.

Callie let go of him and Colt sputtered, trying to get vodka and peach juice out of his eyes. Callie was wiping her face with her apron and laughing hysterically.

Miranda stood there, empty glass in her hand, yelling, “I am so done with you, Colt McCall. Don’t ever call me again. Even if you are dying and I’m the last other person on earth!”

She shoved the glass back at the random girl she’d grabbed it from, and walked away.

Remy appeared at his shoulder, looking exasperated. “You are the suckiest wingman in the history of ever.”

The girl with the empty glass said, “And you owe me another drink.”

Callie, still laughing, said, “It’s on me. Sooo worth it.” She went over to the bar and spoke to the bartender.

Tiffany and Miranda, in a huff, were back at the table gathering up their jackets and purses.

“Shit,” Colt muttered to Remy. “Now I have to drive them home.”