Page 59 of Right Number, Wrong Man
Need pulses between my legs as I remember my butt plug adventure and the text I got from Jax this morning. I read it so many times, I know it by heart.
Hope you got some good sleep, Sugar. I won’t be around much today, but I got a surprise for you next week. It’ll make the bus station look like a warmup.
Whatever could Jax have planned for me? Surely he won’t really come to visit. But if he thinks the butt plug excursion was a warmup…
A wave of wanting rises through me as my mind drifts to my favorite fantasy. Jax is the one person who knows about it, and that makes it even hotter. More intimate. It’soursecret now.
I imagine myself home alone when a hand covers my mouth and?—
“Thanks for bein’ here tonight,” Colt says, interrupting my naughty daydream.
“I was thinking about bread!” I blurt out, blushing.
His head jerks. “That’s weird.”
Oh God. He knows.He knows I was thinking about sex?—
“Cause you’re more of a pastry gal with that sweet tooth o’ yours,” he adds.
My shoulders drop with relief. “Oh, yes. True.” I’m surprised he’d remember that about me or care at all.
“I’ll ask Momma to pack some pie for you to take home.”
“T-thanks.”
He nods. “Anyway, thanks for keepin’ the peace during dinner.”
“It was fun! I really missed Sara Jean and Earl, but I should be the one thanking you. If you hadn’t forced me to come, I don’t know if I would’ve found the courage. Inever took myself for a coward, but when I stopped returning your mom’s calls, I was. It was an awful, selfish thing to do.”
“My folks understand. So do I.”
I bite my lip. “You know, you were right when you called me a bitch a few days ago at work. Because what I did to your parents was prime bitch behavior.”
Colt pauses, holding a box with old sporting supplies, glaring daggers at me over a weathered baseball glove. A chill drifts up my spine.
Uh-oh, what did I do wrong now?
“Hold up. Inevercalled you a bitch and I never would,” he says and there’s that strange, new warmth in his tone again. It doesn’t match the scowl he’s wearing, but for some reason I don’t doubt his words. “Unless you wanted me to,” he adds.
I grin, putting my hands on my hips. “Colton Walker, was that ajoke?”
“I’m known to crack one or two… per year.” He smirks and his eyes twinkle. “I think you misheard cause I did call you a different b-word. I called you abratand I ain’t takin’ it back. You deserve the title.” His head cocks. “Besides, I never implied that being a brat is a bad thing.”
My jaw drops. It’s like I’m standing in a furnace and I’m at risk of melting and disappearing in the cracks between the floorboards. I stutter, sounding like I had a serious head injury for dinner.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d think Colt isflirtingwith me.
Does he even do that? Flirt, I mean?
I’ve seen the hottest women—I’m talking model types—approach him at work and he’s never as much as smirked. It’s always strictly business.Yes, ma’am. No, ma’am.Thank you, ma’am. He’s polite, but beyond that he’s distanced and withdrawn.
I always assumed he’s married to the military and has no interest in romance. And he sure as fuck isn’t into me.
So what’s going on?
Colt laughs. It’s a dark, low snicker, and the sound sucks the air from the room. He puts the box down and his chin drops, one hand clasped on the back of his neck. When he takes a step forward, I take one back.
Another.
