Whit
Taking a slow sip of wine, I appreciate the pristine black nail polish on my fingers, racking my brain to remember the last time I had hours to myself on a Saturday.
After Colt and Jonas left this morning, I sprawled out on the couch with my Kindle and a cup of coffee.
A couple hours later, Blair called and kept my brain occupied as I painted my nails, then I finished my romance novel while eating a delicious turkey sandwich on the porch.
Now I’m curled up watching Pride & Prejudice.
What started as a shitty day ended up as close to perfect as I ever get.
An engine rumbles loudly up my street before coming to an abrupt stop, and I stretch across the couch to peer out the front window.
Jonas hops out of the passenger seat of the massive pickup and tosses his head back with a laugh at something Colt must’ve said.
I can immediately tell his cheeks are sunburned—clearly neither of them thought to use the sunblock I packed.
A moment later, Jonas barges through the front door and fights to kick off his sandals.
His cheeks and nose are a vibrant shade of pink, his hair is a mess, and his clothes are disheveled.
Something about his overall demeanor tells me he left a piece of his usual life-weary heaviness at the lake, and he came back more like a little kid.
Colt’s not far behind, and he holds a firm palm against the front door to keep it open. He’s bronzed all over with a slight shimmer of dried sweat on his skin.
When he notices me, his gaze strays to my chest in a move so subtle and quick, I’m left wondering if I imagined it. “Hey, Mama.”
My heart dips, and a slow-burning heat crawls its way up to my cheeks.
I press a cool hand to my chest, blaming my sudden flush on the wine.
I’ve been called mama, mommy, mom, mother, and even bro a million times over the past ten years.
At this point, I hear it more than my actual name, so it makes no sense for this to be the time I have a visceral reaction to the word.
All the same, it feels like I’ve submerged myself into a warm bubble bath.
“Hey.” My voice comes out way more sultry than I expected, and I clear my throat before trying again. “Hey.”
Better.
I pull myself from the couch and saunter toward the boys, stealing a quick glance at Colt before focusing on Jonas. “Did you guys have fun?”
Jonas’s cheerful tone is exhilarating. “I almost gave Colt a fishhook earring in his nose.”
I raise a curious brow at Colt, who nods.
“And I got a milkshake at Anette’s on the way home.”
“A milkshake?” I gasp theatrically. “Right before dinner?”
Jonas looks over at Colt. I told you so, his expression says. Then his green eyes meet mine again. “Told him you’d be mad about it, but he said he’d take one for the team.”
“Lucky for him I’m in a good mood, I guess.” With a firm grip on Jonas’s shoulder, I steer him in the direction of the staircase. “Go clean yourself up. Pizza should be here pretty soon.”
“Can Colt stay?” he shouts while climbing the stairs.
“He’s been with you all day, kiddo. I’m sure he has other things to get to.”
After all, Colt’s still standing in the entryway.
No move has been made to take off his shoes or even attempt to leave the coir doormat with a green frog painted on it.
He already did his good deed for the day by taking Jonas fishing, and I’m sure he’s ready for some child-free time to drink beer with his buddies or whatever it is he likes to do beyond shopping for secondhand shirts.
“If you’re hungry, you’re more than welcome to have some pizza. But I totally understand if you want to get out of here.”
Before answering, he kicks his boots off and places them next to the shoe rack.
Evidently, he’s staying. Straightening back up, he pulls the hat from his head and sets it on top of his boots, then runs a hand through lightly sweat-dampened hair.
The move pulls his T-shirt hem up to his belly button, and though I’ve seen him shirtless before, I was too agitated in that moment to appreciate what was standing in front of me.
A man with thick arms, a slender waist, and the thinnest trail of hair leading down to… Damn, I wonder how far down it goes?
The shirt falls back into place, and I find myself blinking rapidly to disrupt the stupor.
“Always down to fuck up a pizza,” he says. Our smiles meet, holding on for a moment longer than necessary.
“Okay. Great. Well…make yourself at home.” I gesture to the open concept floor plan, painfully aware that I’m acting odd.
He’s been here before, and even if he hadn’t, there’s not much worth gesturing at in our humble living space.
Couch for sitting, kitchen for cooking, table for eating—that’s the grand tour.
It’s clear I need to lay off the wine until I get some food into my stomach, so I head for the kitchen sink, snagging a glass from the cupboard on my way. The water bends around my fingertips, slowly cooling, and I lose myself in the patter of droplets hitting the sink basin.
My mind drifts to Jonas. Specifically to the pure excitement in his eyes after I reluctantly agreed to text Colt this morning. There was no hesitation or anxiety hiding behind a brave face like there is when I announce Alex will be coming over.
How fucked up is it that he already trusts Colt—a man he’s known for a few weeks—more than his own dad?
Granted, there’s something about Colt that seems to put people at ease.
Except me. I’m remarkably uneasy in his presence.
In case that wasn’t clear from the way I’m staring into a stream of tap water like a Victorian woman experiencing indoor plumbing for the first time.
Eventually I speak to fill the silence. “It sounds like he had a lot of fun fishing.”
“It was nice to have company, even if he tried giving me a facial piercing or two.” Colt leans against the counter, resting on his elbow. “Kid needs to work on his casting outside of video game land.”
As if hoping to trip me up, the man never wears shirts with sleeves. I get a full view of sculpted arms, golden from long hours in the sun, leading up to broad shoulders that he could so easily toss me over.
Whit, what the fuck is wrong with you?
The cold water sends a shiver down my spine, and I wait impatiently for the ribbed glass in my hand to fill so I can chug it. Arguably, dumping it over my head would be a better solution to this weird mental state I’m in.
I need to be normal.
“He, uh…asked if I could take him fishing the next time his dad can’t hang out, and obviously I said yes. Hope that’s okay.”
I practically drown myself in water, gulping back the entire glass in one go. Why does he have to be hot and kind?
“Oh, that’s really nice of you. His dad—Alex—can be a bit…”
“Flaky?”
Understatement of the century.
I study Colt’s unruffled face, letting the weight of silence hang between us until I’m confident he’s not asking from a place of judgment.
“At the best of times. For the most part, I’ve stopped letting Jonas know when Alex is going to come over. But now that he’s ten and has the ability to send messages online, sometimes Alex goes over my head and makes plans directly with Jonas. And then ends up letting him down more often than not.”
“Sounds like a real piece of shit—no offense.”
“None taken. He is.” I surprise myself by admitting it.
Used to be I’d defend Alex in the same way you defend your family members—it’s okay for me to say he’s a piece of shit, but not for anybody else.
Hell, I covered for him when Colt offered to take Jonas fishing today.
But now he’s here with that trustworthy, earnest look, and I don’t see the point in lying.
“And I knew that from the start but…I was a really stupid teenager. At one point I thought it was cool that he broke all the rules and didn’t care about anything. ”
“We were all stupid as teenagers.”
“What’s the stupidest thing you ever did as a teenager?”
He thinks long and hard, stippling the pads of his fingers against his jaw. “Well…man, the list is long. One time I tried to teach a chicken to play fetch.”
Arguably the worst time for me to have a fresh gulp of water hitting the back of my throat.
Though I manage to keep it in, thanks to the palm that slaps across my mouth, a small stream dribbles out of an unmanned spot at the corner of my lips.
I choke on a cough and blink up at him through teary eyes.
“You…what? A chicken?”
“Her name was Nugget. She was a pretty smart bird but fucking awful at fetch.”
“I feel like the failure there wasn’t Nugget’s.” I half-smile at him, still coping with the water that took a wrong turn on its way to my stomach and ended up in my lungs. “I was expecting you to say something like you made an idiot of yourself while you were drunk or—”
“Oh, well, I’m usually the designated driver for my buddies.” Of course he is. “I don’t need to be drunk to make a fool of myself, so I have no problem keeping up with them. Just high on life.”
“High on life. Must be nice.”
“It’s as easy as having a good time and not giving a shit what other people think about it. Should try it sometime.” He winks as he says it, implying I’m some type of prude.
I’m not.
And I don’t know why it irks me so much that he would think that…except the fact that I care a little too much about what people think.
He saunters off to the living room, and I watch him go. All six feet of long, lean cowboy in fitted Levi’s and a cut-off T-shirt. Not giving a shit what anyone—myself included—thinks about him, even after confessing to trying to teach a chicken to fetch.