Page 56 of Colton’s Mate

He settled his hips against the sideboard. “I had these rules, about dating. And sex. There were some small ones, like not dating women who were hung up on their exes…”

That made her grin, remembering Miranda. “How’d that work out for you?”

He grinned back. “Peach martini everywhere.”

She nodded. He went on, “But there were two big ones. I treat my dates right—do everything I can to make them feel good about themselves and have a good time. And nobody gets hurt or lied to.”

He looked up and met her eyes. “I always prided myself that I never lied to a girl to get her in bed with me. But I lied to you.”

Dammit, she knew it. This had always been too good to be true.

She turned away, and he caught her arm gently, just enough to stop her. “I wanted you so bad, I told you a huge lie. That there would be no strings, no feelings, nothing serious. Just fun. But I don’t want that. I want more.”

Her heart thudded in her chest. He’d said it. I want more.

She felt chosen and wanted and special. This man who kept his distance from every woman he dated wanted more—with her. It was amazing. And terrifying, like the walls were closing in on her.

“How much more?”

He didn’t answer, just looked down at her, his hand warm on her arm. But she could hear the words anyway.

Maybe everything.

She couldn’t look away from his eyes. The honesty in them, and the hope—the hope that started slowly fading when she didn’t say anything.

“You don’t want more.”

“It’s not that,” she said. She did. She just didn’t know how much more. “I told you. Lynxes don’t do long-term. And also, I just started finding out who I am, without trying to please all the men in my life. I don’t want to go back to being that Callie.”

“I don’t want you to be.” That sexy smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “I’m pretty into Bad Girl Callie, to tell you the truth.”

That was good. Bad Girl Callie was probably here to stay.

“And I need to learn to stand on my own feet,” she said. “What if I can’t do that, with you there?”

He was still holding her arm, stroking the skin with his fingers as though soothing an agitated cat. “What if you could, though? What if we made each other better? Stronger?”

That would be amazing. Could it really work that way?

“Why don’t we do this,” Colt said. “Take it slow. Date. Build a bar together. Anything else, we can let that take care of itself. There’s no rush.”

Right. No rush.

Callie took a deep breath. Then another one. This sounded doable. “Okay then. Let’s order pizza, and we’ll talk construction.”

And to make sure he knew Bad Callie wasn’t going anywhere, she added, “I want to go over the construction timeline and see the part where you come to work wearing a tool belt and nothing else.”

Chapter 23

Two days later, on her day off, Callie was home working on ideas for the bar. She wanted to make some changes to the way the kitchen had been laid out, and she had ideas for an outdoor space, too.

She wanted to have them all ready to show Colt and make diva client demands, next time she saw him.

She was deep in her drawings and internet research when she heard the low growl of a large truck motor, coming to a stop outside her house. Just as she got up to look out the window, there were footsteps on the front porch and a knock at the door.

She hoped it wasn’t the Corsairs and Cruella de Crow coming back—with an army. Picking up her shotgun, Callie moved the shade on her front window slightly so she could see the door.

The truck was a pet food delivery vehicle, and the delivery person was a teenage girl wearing jeans and some kind of uniform shirt, holding a large carton.