Page 47 of Chasing the Wild
I run my fingers through my hair a couple of times to shake it loose, along with an attempt to dislodge all memories of just howdamn good it felt to wear his hat earlier and get back to storing the groceries.
While I’m in here, I hear Colt head outside and turn off the truck, before he stomps back in, barging through the kitchen without looking at me. I nearly have to jump out of his way as he reaches up into one of the high cupboards and drags down a bottle of whiskey. He roughly splashes some into a glass, picks it up, but then slams it back down on the bench. Without even touching the damn thing, or taking a sip, Colt disappears again, empty-handed.
Jesus. This man is as bull-headed and temperamental as they come.
My nostrils flare.
It’s not often that I lose my temper, but right now, Colt is acting more like a four-year-old than a man in his forties. Not that I know for certain how old he is, but I’m guessing he’s somewhere around that age—having pieced together Kayce’s birthdate and knowing the two of us were born in the same year—I can only assume that Colt must have been pretty young himself, maybe seventeen, eighteen at the most, by the time his son came along.
Which is what spurs me on to do the most thoroughly passive-aggressive tidy-up of this kitchen it has probably ever seen. Including tipping out his untouched drink abandoned on the counter. By the time I’m finished, the fridge has been cleaned, there’s not a single dish left unwashed, and every surface has been polished.
I’ll earn every fucking dollar of my paycheck, and when I’m gone, this man will never have to worry about seeing me again.
When I flip the lights off in the kitchen, I see the glow of the fire illuminating the lounge. Of course, Colt is in there, sitting with his head lowered and his forearms resting over his knees in what must be his favorite night-time-brooding chair.
I curse my body for the way it remembers how he looked at me the last time I crept in here late at night.
“Kayce isn’t here.” He says, talking to the floor but aiming his words at me. There’s an ugly sneer in his voice.
Logically, I knew that. It was pretty obvious, but I had been too busy rage-cleaning to bother looking around for his drunken ass. He’s not who I want to be seeing.
“He’s not coming back anytime soon, Layla. Sent a message to say he’s got some things to take care of in town.”
“Fine,” I bite out. At this point, I’m tired and beyond caring. The money shit with Kayce isn’t time-urgent, it’s really his father he owes it to now anyway.
“Thought you’d want to know.” Colt tilts his head up to look at me. There’s a curl to his top lip, like he’s waiting for some kind of reaction.
“Ok.” I shrug. Ignoring the way his dark hair falls across his eyes.
“Guessing you want to go back down there.” He narrows his eyes. “To him.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. We’re back on this bullshit again?
That puts a fire under me. I cross the open plan space and get right up close, folding my arms. “Like I told you. There’s nothing between me and Kayce. I’m not his girl. I’m not his property. What Iamis someone who is here to do the job I was hired for. So I’d really appreciate it if you quit jumping to conclusions about me and my life.”
My pulse thunders in my ears.
Colt cracks his knuckles as he looks up at me.
I realize I’m almost standing between his knees, but I’m not backing down. He’s got to understand this once and for all, that I’m not Kayce’s girl and I’m not going to be made to feel like it’s my fault every time another man looks at me.
“He says otherwise. Says you’re his.” There’s a warning and an ugly snarl in his voice.
“Well, I hate to say it, since he’s your son and all, but he’s an idiot, and he’s probably got about ten girls he callshis.I’m sure as hell not one of them.”
The man in front of me is wound so tight, I think something in his jaw is going to break.
“That guy with his hands all over you at the bar sure as hell thought you were his.”
I roll my eyes. A burning log lets out a loud pop as we remain locked in this standoff.
“No more than that woman wanted you to be hers. She seemed awfully friendly.”
Colt launches out of his seat and I have to crane my neck just to hold his fierce stare. I’m frozen, and he’s impossibly close. His scent washes over me, and a tingling sensation spreads right through to my fingertips.
“I don’t give a fuck about random women who try to talk to me in a bar, Layla.”
He looms over me, and oh, god. My core tightens at the way he says my name. The insinuation is right there, screaming loud and clear into the silence of the darkened room.
