Page 119 of Right Number, Wrong Man
I simply enjoy the strong beat of Colt’s heart against my palm and the stream of his breath as he presses his nose into my hair.
I’m in a fairy tale, but the song ends too soon.
Don’t leave,I plead silently.Don’t let go. Let’s pretend for a little longer.
The DJ plays an upbeat pop song, but Colt keepsholding me close. He moves us to our own rhythm, a secret song only we can hear.
Tears burn my eyes.
How do I know if these feelings are real, or if I’m mistaking adrenaline from the night he saved my life for attraction?
We’ve just become friends. I can’t ruin our fragile new beginning with my greedy, unsteady heart. He deserves better than that.
I tip my head back and glance up at Colt. I don’t know what I hope to see in his face, but when our eyes meet, I get weak in the knees.
I like this version of him. Gentle, caring, smiling. Sweet.
Actually, I think I likeeveryversion of him.
The dutiful soldier. The boyish charmer. The tender animal lover. And even the bull-headed asshole driving me insane with his smug, know-it-all attitude.
His chin dips and he holds my hand tighter, the other pulling my hips flush to his. I thought these things only happen in the movies, but I swear time stands still for us as the tip of his nose brushes mine and his breath tickles my lips?—
Something touches my shoulder. I yelp and startle, twisting out of Colt’s arm to face a neon pink lipstick grin. My heart drops. The woman can’t be older than early twenties—like the girls Mike cheated with.
“Mind if I cut in?” she asks, putting a hand on her hip, her nail polish matching her lipstick and her tight, short dress.
I sputter, ripped from the sweetest dream into a sobering reality.
“Can I help you?” Colt asks the woman, that trademark frown back on his face.
She laughs. “What are you scowling for, cowboy? I just want to dance with you.”
My throat thickens. I pray I won’t burst into tears in front of all these people, but I’m about to be replaced by a younger model, just like Mike replaced me. How could I be stupid enough to think Colt would spend all night with me instead of?—
He wraps an arm around my shoulder. “I’m spoken for.”
I blink.Did he turn down a dance with this hottie to stay with me?
“Come on, handsome…” The woman reaches out and puts a hand on his other arm, but Colt jerks away, wrapping that one around me, too.
What’s happening? I feel like melting into a puddle. His embrace is so protective. So possessive.
“I’ll have to decline, ma’am,” he says firmly, but despite his polite words, rage flickers in his eyes. “Please leave us alone. You’re makin’ my partner uncomfortable.”
Partner? He must mean it as in dance partner?
The woman grimaces. “You’d rather spend time with that bit?—”
Colt growls. “Trust me, lady, you don’t wanna finish that sentence. I don’t hit women, but your attitude is makin’ my hand itch.” He loosens his grip on me and intertwines our fingers instead. “C’mon, Spitfire. Let’s get some air.”
The woman huffs an exasperated breath, but Colt is already tugging me toward the exit. In passing, he reaches over the bar and grabs a bottle of top-shelf bourbon. The bartender shouts after us, but Colt doesn’t even flinch. He steers me out into the balmy summer night, toward the sunflower fields, and I follow him like a lost puppy.
Colton Walker chose me?
45
COLT
