Page 114 of Right Number, Wrong Man
If it wasn’t for Colt, I wouldn’t have broken up with Jax, but it was the right thing to do.
When Jax left me in the hotel and I came down from the high of my orgasms, I fell into an emotional hole. All I wanted was to call Colt, just to hear his voice. Ask him to pick me up, just to see him. That’s when I knew I had to end things with Jax.
I’m still not sure what I feel for Colt, but since he saved my life,everythingreminds me of him.
My favorite coffee order. Little dogs in the park. When I accidentally switched the TV channel to a military movie, my brain cast him in the role of the hero. When I see a cowboy romance at the bookstore, I imagine him on the cover. Topless, duh. Yesterday I passed a random guy at the grocery store who wore the same cologne and thought I was having a heart attack!
I get flashbacks of his charming smirk and his slow drawl. The sound of laughter rumbling in his chest. His dimple.
All the things I hate about him.
Used to hate.
This weird obsession is getting out of hand, and I don’t know how to stop it.
Smiling, I clack the heels of my Lucchese boots together. They match the party theme and the red roses on my pastel pink dress, but most importantly, they remind me of Colt.
When I looked up the brand, I had to pick my jaw up off the floor. Like it’s not a big deal at all, he gave me a thousand-dollar pair of boots for my thirtieth birthday.
It’s not about the price, though.
I’ve learned to love these boots because wearing them is like carrying a piece of Colt with me. It makes me feel safe and that seems crazy. In a few weeks, everything changed so rapidly between us… but has it really? Isn’t this truce sixteen years in the making?
I laugh, but it sounds like a sob. This is too complicated and messed up. Developing feelings other than hate for my dead husband’s brother is the dumbest thing I’ve ever done.
I never thought I’d want to see that stupid face of his with that stupidly floppy blond hair and that stupid beard and that stupid grin with the stupid dimples and?—
A knock comes from the door.
I practically catapult off the bed, smoothing over my hair. How long have I been wallowing in my misery in here?
I slap the smile back on and sprint to the door, but when I open it, the fake grin slides off my face.
“What the hell areyoudoing here, Colt?”
He tips his brown hat at me. “Nice to see you, too, Spitfire.” He smirks, the tilt of his lips tugging on the butterfly bandages over the healing cut on his cheek. “Sorry I’m a lil late. I had to drop Gracie off at my folks first and got stuck in traffic.”
My pulse is in my throat, stopping the words from coming out. “I’m—That’s?—”
“C’mon, I don’t lookthatbad.” Colt takes a step back and straightens the collar of his chambray shirt. He paired it with a dark blue suit, silver cufflinks, and polished cowboy boots. “I didn’t know the dress code, but I figured Texas Formal should do the trick.”
Texas Formal? I hold back a giggle. That’ssoColt in a nutshell. He looks the most handsome I’ve ever seen, but I can’t tell him that… or can I?
I glance at his boots. They seem expensive and brand new. “A-are those alligator?” I ask dumbly just to say something.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And the hat…” I say, fighting down the tingles in my belly. “Is the hat new?”
He touches the brim. “This old thing?”
I squint. It doesn’t look old.
Is he wearing a whole new outfit? His beard is freshly trimmed and he smells incredible, too. He always does, but I still want to bury my nose in his chest and get high on his scent like a teen sniffing glue.
My heart flips. I have to get a hold of myself before I start swooning. Colt didn’t do all this forme. He just wanted to look wedding-appropriate.
A sharp whistle cuts through the air as his eyes drag along my body. “You look beautiful. I’m tryin’ desperately to find better words, but—Damn.” He bites his lip, his Adam’s apple bobbing with a thick swallow. “You’re just so fuckin’ beautiful, I’m speechless.”
