Page 32 of Right Number, Wrong Man
The breath leaves my lungs.
What’s wrong with him? Is he drunk? AmI? Because his touch is different from when he grabbed me by the counter earlier.
This feels tender. Sweet. And I thought those words weren’t in Colt’s vocabulary.
Nerves prickle where his rough thumb brushes over my palm, sending a current of lightning through me.Goosebumps rush up my bare arms and I pray he can’t tell.
My hormones are seriously messed up today. Must be ovulating.
“You’re right,” he says, voice gravelly and low. “A woman needs a way to defend herself. You ought to carry a gun.” His eyes flick up, fixing on mine, and my heart slams into my ribs when I realize his eyes don’t remind me of ice.
They’re like a blue flame, burning hotter than hot.
“But I-I don’t know how to use a gun,” I mumble.
Colt’s brows drag downward. “Mike never taught you how to shoot?”
“He didn’t even own a gun.”
“I knew that, but I told him a hundred times to take you to the range—” He flinches and his expression hardens as he releases my hand. “I’ll teach you.”
“What?” I stammer.
“And I’ll get you a gun, too.”
“Isn’t that illegal without a proper license?”
“You’re gonna quote the law at me, Spitfire?”
My breath hitches. There’s that nickname.
He probably means to mock me with it, but my brain blanks and heat climbs my face. Again. To be honest I neverstoppedblushing since he touched my hand.
But I don’t blush at Colton. I attempt to make his brain explode with evil glares. I yell at him. Sometimes I throw things at him, too. Mostly popcorn.
But I do not blush.
This must be a stress reaction with no deeper meaning.
“Dad taught Mike and me to shoot when we were boys. It’s no big deal,” Colt says. “Speaking of my folks, I talked to Momma on the phone this mornin’. She’s worried about you cause you ain’t answering her calls and texts.”
A pit opens in my stomach. This is the last topic I want to talk about.
“I’ve been busy,” I lie.
His frown deepens. “Nobody’s too busy to answer a simple text. Takes thirty seconds.”
“Fine, I’ll call Sara Jean tomorrow morning. First thing.”
“Save yourself the trouble. I already told her you’re coming to dinner this Sunday.”
I huff. “You can’t just make that decision for me!”
Colt grabs my chin. He steps into me, making my pulse hiccup. I expect him to give me a lecture about being a good daughter-in-law, but his gaze softens and his voice comes out quiet.
“I know you hate me, but my parents have always done right by you. You’re part of the family and they already lost a son. Don’t make ‘em lose a daughter, too.”
My eyes prickle with tears. He’s right, but the words won’t come.
