Page 30 of The History Between Us

Back downstairs, I find myself pacing back and forth in the kitchen, my heart racing a mile a minute. What the hell is wrong with me, and how does he have this kind of pull over me? Needing something to do, I put on a pot of coffee. Because that’s exactly what I need right now, more caffeine. As soon as I start the machine, a knock sounds at the door, and a shiver races down my spine.

I blow out a deep breath and pad across the floor, unlocking and opening the front door. Colt’s standing on the other side, a rather large tray covered with aluminum foil in his hands. His black hat is turned backwards, and he’s wearing his signature smirk as our gaze connects.

“Howdy.”

“Hello, Colt.” Stepping to the side, I gesture with my arm. “Come on in.”

Walking past me, he pauses and murmurs over his shoulder, “You smell delicious, Doc.”

I flex my jaw as I close the door. Ignoring the compliment entirely, I say, “Kitchen is to the left. You can set the tray down on the counter.”

“Was that the door?” my dad asks as he appears in the hallway. He and Winnie have been out back most of the morning.

“Yeah, Dad.” My blood pressure is rising by the second. “Colt’s here, dropping off some of Trish’s homemade cinnamon rolls.”

Coming to a stop in front of the entrance to the kitchen, a wide smile spreads on his face. “Well, hello, Colt. How are you?”

“I’m doing well, Roger,” Colt says, his tone friendly and bright, unlike when he speaks to me. “How’re you doing this fine Sunday morning?”

“Oh, can’t complain,” my dad replies. “Enjoying the sun and the cool breeze on the porch out back with Winnie. Will made eggs benedict for breakfast.”

Colt’s gaze drags over to mine, that cocky smirk sliding into place again. “I love French toast,” he drawls. “Looks like I’ll be coming over for breakfast next weekend.”

I frown. “Eh, I?—”

I’m cut off mid-sentence by my father. “That’s a wonderful idea! Will always makes entirely too much anyway, and we’d love the company. How about next Saturday?”

“Dad, I don’t think?—”

“I’d love to, Roger.” Humor dances in Colt’s eyes as I’m cut off yetagain. “With my injury, I have a lot of downtime, and it can get pretty boring.”

“Oh, I know what that’s like,” my dad murmurs. “Not being injured, of course, but having a lot of downtime. Now that I’m retired, all I’ve got is time on my hands.”

Winnie prances into the kitchen, probably wanting to see what all the fuss is about, and Colt’s eyes light up as he glances down and takes her in. “Oh my gosh. You must be sweet Winnie girl,” he gushes in a baby voice. “Aren’t you just the cutest little girl I have ever seen. Look at you.”

Picking her up, he pets her while she licks everywhere she can, soaking up the attention.

Colt glances up from Winnie to look at my dad. “How’s she adjusting to being here?”

“Very well,” he replies with a nod and a smile. “She’s quite spoiled between the two of us, and I think she’s adjusting just fine.”

“Are you spoiled?” Colt coos, patting Winnie on the butt, something she loves. “Are you a pretty, spoiled girl?”

“Well, let’s go out onto the back porch,” my dad says, turning to glance at me. “Will, can you heat up some of those cinnamon rolls and bring them outside with some coffee?”

My lips press into a thin line as I glance over at Colt, finding him already looking at me, a faint smirk fixed on his face. “I like cream in my coffee, Doc,” he murmurs, and something about his completely innocent statement sends a lick of flames down my spine.

My dad and Colt don’t bother waiting for confirmation that I’ll act as their server before they stroll through the house side by side. Colt’s still holding Winnie like a baby as they go.For fuck’s sake.

By the time I meet them outside, they’re in the middle of a conversation about the game that was on last night. We all dish up our plates with the now-warm cinnamon rolls, and I have to bite back a groan when I take a bite. It’s so damn good. I need to get this recipe from Trish.

For the most part, I sit back and eat, watching the two of them converse. I don’t know why it’s so surprising to me to see how well they get along. My dad practically has stars in his eyes as he listens to Colt talk rodeo.

“Are you going to compete next season?” he asks.

Colt nods, finishing chewing. “I’m definitely going to try, but I won’t push myself to get back out there before I’m ready.

“Smart man,” my dad murmurs. “What do you got going on to fill your time currently?”

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