Page 136 of Right Number, Wrong Man
“Alright. It’s my third time bein’ shot and I heal fast.” He points at the two faded scars I saw on Jax. “But I’ll wear this new scar as a badge of honor. It’syourmark.”
Silence stretches between us.
“It’s pretty rude to make a lady wait on your doorstep,” I say and smile. “Two ladies, actually,” I add, nodding at Gracie who has fallen asleep in my arms.
Colt flinches. “Right. Sorry! I was waiting for Cody. He was gonna help me pack while we have some beers and—” He laughs nervously, brushing a hand through his wet hair. “I just can’t believe you’re here. C’mon in.”
He gestures and I walk inside, squeezing past moving boxes marked for storage.
I’ve never been to his apartment, but I find myself impressed. This isn’t your typical, sparsely furnishedbachelor’s pad with a mattress on the floor and beer crates as shelves.
The interior is a stylish mix of industrial and rustic, practical and aesthetic. Exposed timber beams complement the high ceiling, brick walls, and wooden floors. The loft features an open kitchen, a generously stocked bar, and a living space with a brown leather sofa across from a fireplace. A TV hangs on the wall above, surrounded by hunting trophies.
I only get a glimpse at the upstairs area, but I spy a king-sized bed, a closet, a dresser, and a workspace. Another door, too, probably to the bathroom.
Gracie’s things stand out as dots of pink. Her bowls in the kitchen, a basket under the coffee table, and toys scattered all over the floor. The pink blanket with the cowboy boot print that Jax—I meanColtwrapped me in in the hotel—has been turned into a makeshift doggy nest on the sofa. There’s even a ramp so she can get up without straining her joints.
“Your apartment is gorgeous,” I say.
Colt smirks. “Thanks, but I reckon you ain’t here for a tour?”
Gracie squirms and I set her on the floor. She dashes to the sofa and over the ramp to curl up on the blanket, sighing.
“You’re really leaving?” I ask over the onset of quiet dog snores. “What about Gracie?”
“My folks are taking her. She’ll be happy there with the big garden and I’ll visit when I can.” He huffs, lips pursed. “I’ll miss her a lot, but I don’t think the little princess is cut out for the black ops life.”
His hesitant eyes meet mine and he looks like a boy again, but now I know him well enough to read his emotions. It isn’t hate. It never was.
It’s anxiety. Fear. Sadness.
“I’ll missyoumore, though…” he adds quietly and my heart hurts.
Colt lets out a wry laugh, tossing the towel on the dining table. My eyes follow the movement, and I freeze when I see his rifle lying there—with a familiar charm hanging from it.
“Cowgirl kitty?” I walk to the table and run a finger over the scratched plastic figure. “Thecowgirl kitty I got from a gumball machine at the mall and carried on my bag in high school?”
“Aw, shit!” Colt curses at my back. “Yeah…Thatcowgirl kitty.”
I turn to him, shaking my head in disbelief. “I thought I lost her.”
He gives me a mischievous smile. “I stole her when you were at our house and left your bag unattended. Don’t be mad, Spitfire. Cowgirl kitty is my lucky charm and I credit her for keepin’ me alive through every mission. She’s been all over the world with me and Grace.”
My mouth falls open. “Grace?”
“Damn Colt! Stop fucking putting your fucking foot in your big fucking mouth,” he mumbles to himself and I swallow a laugh. He glances at me, wincing. “Imighthave named my rifle after you…”
He named his rifleandhis dog after me.
Everything he loves or cares about hasmyname?
The tense atmosphere sucks the air from my lungs. I don’t know where to start, so I start at the beginning. The easiest part.
“I saw your message on the marquee. Hard to miss, really. Very Hallmark.”
Colt blushes a deep pink. “Sorry if that was too public. Since I don’t use social media, I forgot how people get withall the viral shit. I didn’t want to pressure you to respond, but when you refused to take my calls or read my letter, I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t leave without you knowin’ how I feel.”
I cross my arms. “What was in the letter even?”
