Page 9 of Big Tex

“I’ll call you,” he insists, before giving me one last somber look and exiting my hotel room, and my life…

3

Home, Sweet Home

NOW

COLT

I park in front of the main building of the ranch and walk around the truck to help Layla out. She fell asleep on our way here and I left her alone. Talking can wait. Clearing the air can wait. For now, my priority is to take care of her. She’s tired, and she needs to rest.

I open the passenger side door, undo Layla’s seatbelt, and take her in my arms. The familiar sensation of her body instantly igniting that flame in my blood only she can spark. She feels so good. So soft. I can’t fucking wait till I get the privilege of being inside her again.

* * *

LAYLA

I wake up to a sensation of deep comfort, of feeling cared for, of being precious. More comfortable than I’ve experienced in a long while.What happened?Colt Garcia happened. Images of my eyes fluttering open in my state of sleepiness and falling on his handsome face come to me. He was so close,Vegas close. And I was in his arms! Carried bridal style, as he walked us into his house and up the stairs to a bedroom.

I blinked with incomprehension, asking, “what?”

“Shhh, go back to sleep, angel. Just taking you to bed, love,” he whispered before kissing my temple.

Like the idiot I am, I buried my face in the crook of his neck, basking in his warmth, pressing my lips into his soft skin, inhaling the intoxicating blend of his spicy cologne mixed with his own male scent, and sighed with content.

No one has ever carried me so effortlessly, making me feel dainty in his strong arms, snuggled against his wide chest, feeling his heart beat under my fingers.

The memories flood my mind and body and I grow flushed, hot, and bothered.

Shit, this can’t happen again. I need to talk to Colt. We need to be on the same page. I’m not here for a repeat of our night of wild sex before we realized we couldn’t be together.

And he may have called and texted me every single day since Vegas. That doesn’t change anything. I ignored and rejected all his attempts at communication. He said it himself, this is a clusterfuck. And just wait till my brother finds out the brunt of it. I’m in so much fucking trouble!

There’s a soft knock on the door and the panel opens to reveal a cautious looking Colt. He’s just as big, broad and fucking handsome as in my nightly dreams, but his expression is guarded.

He sets a tray on the nightstand next to my bed, and I notice the furniture is made of beautiful, heavy light wood. The room is spacious, airy, brightly lit by a pair of French doors covered by sheer curtains, and exquisitely decorated with nature paintings on the walls, and rustic rugs on the thick cream carpet.

Colt brought me a sandwich, a bowl of fruits, and a glass of water.

I mutter, “thank you.” Before gobbling down everything within a few minutes.

Colt comes to sit on the bed at a reasonable distance. His long legs stretched out on top of the comforter, feet crossed at the ankles, arms folded over his massive chest, his bulging biceps straining the fabric of his shirt. He looks completely different from the sophisticated, tailored suit sporting man I met in Vegas. And my vagina isn’t sure who she likes better, this battered jeans, flannel, and boots wearing cowboy or the GQ model who gave me the best night of my life.

Colt watches me eat, a small smile blossoming on his gorgeous face. God, I missed seeing him, being with him, and all the other stuff… Being in his presence like this, feeling seen, cared for, desired, I’m not exactly sure why I refused to hear him out after Vegas. I mean Zach in going to be an issue, but at this point…

When I’m done scarfing down the food he made me, he playfully asks, “better?”

I nod with gratitude, then take a deep inhale, because what I have to say to this man is absolutely bonkers. I just found out this afternoon, but I know I have to tell him. Would hate it if someone kept something this important, this life-altering from me.

I let my eyes take in the room once more. Trying to find the courage to say what I have to share with Colt.

“Did you know that condoms only have a ninety-eight percent efficiency rate?” I ask like the dorky lunatic I am.

My face heats up at the mention of our torrid night together. And from the glint in his eyes, Colt is also doing a mental play-by-play. He’s watching me with a curious frown.I would wonder where I’m going with this, too, if I were you.

I take a deep inhale and blurt out, “I’m pregnant, Cole.”

Ever since Ben told me what my blood work results had revealed, I’ve been wondering one thing. How would Colt, Big Tex, Garcia react to the news of our impending potential parenthood. So many scenarios played out in my head. He would be angry, stressed, irritated. He might not believe me. Might think I’m trying to trap him. All plausible options. After all, I barely know the guy.

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