Page 59 of Brim Over Boot
Colton walks out of the shop without so much as a glance in my direction, and I relay my lunch order to Louise, my mind already on the rest of my afternoon. My schedule is packed, but I’m glad for it. It means business is good.
Idly, I wonder about Colton’s appointments for the day before dismissing the man outright. No need to be thinking about my competitor’s workload. Probably time I run another ad in the paper, though.
When I step outside, ready to get a move on, I come to a dead stop. Colton is standing a dozen feet away on the sidewalk, looking as if he’s waiting. Forme.
“Yes?” I ask cautiously.
His eyes dart around, and I nearly laugh. If he’s going for sneaky, he’s failing rather spectacularly. I take a few steps closer as Colton licks his lips.
“Were you following me?” he asks, voice low.
My head rocks back, my incredulity surely showing on my face. “Really, Colt? You think I have nothing better to do than wait around until I spot you and—what?—trail in your wake so I can find out what your sandwich order is?”
Not that I need to. I already know it’s roast beef.
The man is criminally predictable.
Colton scowls, looking down at the ground, his hat hiding his face. If I didn’t know better, I’d almost think that answer upset him.
Except hold up… Did it?
Did Colton…wantme to be stalking him?
“Colt,” I say, taking another step closer. He bristles. I can see it in the way his shoulders tighten, even before his eyes flash back up to mine, defiance there.
“Don’t,” he says, tone hard. “I don’t want you around, King.”
“That so?” I say flatly, crossing my arms, my sandwich bag dangling from one hand. “Never would’ve guessed.”
If we were any younger, I’m positive Colton would stick out his tongue. As is, his lips purse, but he looks…off. Not his usual angry self where I’m concerned. And he’s still not leaving.
I take another step closer.
“Are you mad that I didn’t check in…after?” I ask, keeping my question vague for Colton’s benefit. No doubt he wouldn’t want me saying anything more revealing here, even with the sidewalk empty apart from us.
“What?” he sputters, blinking rapidly. “No, that’s not…No. I don’t want…that.”
“’Kay,” I say slowly.
He peers at me, cheeks flushed. “We’re not…” He flicks his hand through the air, not finishing his sentence, but he doesn’t need to.
No, we’re not anything.
“In that case,” I say evenly, “I have work to get to. Nice talking to you, as always.”
Colton doesn’t say anything as I turn to go. No snappy retort. No final word or parting growl. And that, more than anything, convinces me something is wrong.
I spin back, but Colton is already walking away.
Shit.
With a frustrated growl of my own, I turn and head toward my truck, trying my very best to put Colton out of my mind. The man doesn’t give a damn about me. So I don’t know why I even care if he’s not his usual scowling, chipper self.
I plunk down behind the wheel of my truck and groan, setting my sandwich on the seat beside me. I care because this isn’t business. It’s one thing for the man to hate me for doing my job and doing it well. It’s entirely another if he’s struggling because of whatever the fuck sparked off between us.
Not that there’s anus.
I curse every deity I can think of as I pull out my phone.
