Whit #2
I shakily reach for my drink, but Colt beats me to it, bringing the bendy straw to my lips and letting me drink until I throw my head back into his chest with a relieved sigh.
“Do you mind repeating that so I can record it and listen to you say those words on repeat?”
“I don’t usually come that many—”
“Wait!” He frantically searches his pockets and squints to look on the dashboard. “I don’t know where I put my phone. Well, damn…Okay, say it again and I’ll do my best to record it in my head.”
“You’re insane,” I say through a tired laugh. “Okay, ready? I don’t usually come so many times, but something came over me—probably the sexy cowboy with magic hands—and I couldn’t get enough.”
“I like the spin you put on it that time.” He kisses my forehead, then glances up at where the final credits have started rolling. “I’m glad you agreed to a date.”
“I don’t think any of that was doing a first date the proper way,” I tease. “But it’s perfect. I don’t want this to end.”
“Lucky for you, it doesn’t have to.”
With a little boost from his massive hands, I sit back up and straighten my dress.
The cab’s dark, and it’s not like I have a pocket to shove them in anyway, so I don’t bother trying to find the underwear I flung to the floor.
In a slow-moving line of cars, similar to the way we arrived, the truck rumbles and jostles down the bumpy road.
I should go home. Every hour past ten, I have to pay my babysitter double. Which honestly sounds insane, given she’s not doing anything but playing on her phone while Jonas sleeps. But it’s a small price to pay for whatever secretive plan has Colt smiling to himself the way he is.
“What are we doing?” I lean into his side when the truck unexpectedly turns right instead of left. Heading farther from Wells Canyon along a tree-lined back road.
“Trust me.” He tilts his head to look up at the sky through the windshield. “On a night like tonight, you’re going to love this.”
After a series of lefts and rights, there’s a brief break in the thick, dark pine trees. A clearing in an otherwise dense forest. I grew up in Wells Canyon, explored every dirt road in my dad’s beat-up pickup, but I don’t recognize this spot.
Colt pulls the truck to the side of the road and takes my hand, tugging me behind him. There’s a small nip of autumn in the night air, and I step in closer to him for warmth. A breeze rustles tall grass lining the road, and a nearby owl haunts the quiet night with its call.
“Come on, Mama. The hood will be nice and warm.”
He hikes his boot up onto the front driver’s side tire, and his jeans are pulled impossibly tight across his ass. Unable to help myself, I reach out and give it a light tap.
“Oh, honey, you smack my ass as hard as you want.”
He juts his backside out a little more, and I give him a spank that leaves my fingers tingling. I shake my wrist out with a smirk.
“That’s my girl.” His back foot bounces a few times before springing his entire body upward and onto the hood of the truck.
The metal makes a noise as his ass sinks down an inch, and Colt’s eyes go wide.
“Don’t worry, I can hit the underside of the hood, and that dent will disappear. Get on up here.”
Climbing into the passenger seat is a chore all on its own. The hood? Yeah, right.
He extends his hand. “I’ll pull you right up. All you gotta do is put a foot up on the tire and give me your hand.”
The second my foot leaves the ground, I remember an important problem. “I’m not wearing any underwear.”
“Look around. Who are you going to flash? Come on, honey.” He gestures with his head.
With a resolute exhale, I take his hand and let the same strong bicep I had clamped between my teeth half an hour ago bulge and tighten to pull me onto the truck.
The metal’s surprisingly warm against my bare legs, and I scooch in closer to Colt for additional warmth.
Not letting go of his hold on me, Colt lays us back against the windshield, and my head finds a home nestled in the crook of his arm.
And I realize why he brought me here.
The inky blackness is freckled by millions of white spots of paint, reaching out for millions of light-years.
I grew up in a small town, with merely a handful of streetlights and endless views of the sky, but I’ve never seen it like this.
I haven’t had my field of vision full of nothing but stars, while wrapped in a lover’s arms in the middle of the forest.
Constellations burn bright, temporarily obscured by small wisps of clouds billowing in a hurry. Colt and I, here on the hood of his truck, are so incredibly insignificant, and yet tonight feels like the most significant night of my life.
“Cygnus is real bright tonight.” He points up and to the left of us, and my gaze follows his fingertip, unsure what I’m supposed to be looking at. It’s nothing but a blanket of stars, none seemingly any different than the rest.
“The only thing I can make out is the Big Dipper.” My arm crosses over his to point at the spoon-shaped smattering of stars. That’s about the extent of my solar system knowledge. “Oh, and a plane going by.”
Colt wraps his hand around my wrist, guiding my extended finger right to where he wants it. I’m pointing at a particularly bright star, but I still have no idea what else I’m supposed to be seeing. I close one eye, hoping for a new perspective. Nothing.
“Cygnus is supposed to look like a flying swan. The brightest star here is its tail.” My hand traces the night sky under his control.
“And these,” he says, moving our hands in a cross-shaped pattern across the stars, “are the wings and head. The star that makes up the tail isn’t always this bright and easy to find. So consider yourself lucky.”
Oh, I do.
“Want to know something cool?” He quickly shifts his head to look at me before returning to the stunning canvas overhead.
“Always.”
“The star that makes up its head,” he points a slightly shaky finger, allowing me time to follow it with my eyes before he drops his hand, “is actually two stars. They’re binary stars, which means the smaller companion orbits the primary star.
They’re pulled together by gravity—so close they look like one star to the naked eye. ”
I stare up at Cygnus, which has become unmissable after he methodically painted it for me. Searching around for other shapes in the night, I become completely lost. But I keep circling back to Cygnus.
“Do you know any other constellations?”
“An embarrassing amount, if I’m being honest.” He rolls his head to the side to look at me, a defined crinkle across the bridge of his nose.
“It’s not embarrassing unless you tell me you learned about them specifically so you can give every woman this romantic of a first date.”
“Can I be honest?”
I nod tentatively.
“I haven’t done a whole lot of dating….”
I’m compelled to whisper, albeit tremulously, “Me neither.”
“Because Jonas loves a fake stomachache even more than I do?”
“Yeah, partially because of that.” I steal a wistful glance at Colt.
I want to slide my hands along the rough edge of his jaw so I can hold his eyes in place, really get a good look at them when I ask his feelings on kids.
But the moment my fingers make contact, it’s flint to steel, and I forget about the question altogether.
I’m met with a sobering gaze rather than the flirtatious smile I’m accustomed to. The pools of blue are formidably deep and dark, almost absent of color, thanks to the width of his pupils.
“I know you’re scared, but you and Jonas mean everything to me. I want to be here—I don’t want to let either of you down.”
The moment levels me.
And no matter how loud my brain screams at my tear ducts to quit it, tears prickle at my waterline before tipping over and streaming down my cheeks. They burn the entire way down.
The back of my hand’s quick to swipe them away. But not quick enough.
“No crying,” he says in a gentle voice, smoothing his thumb under my eye. Colt plants a kiss at the corner of my mouth. “We’ll navigate it together.”
Except I’m navigating this ship right into a fucking iceberg, and you think it’s a luxury cruise.
“I’m sorry. I just…” I take a gasping breath, struggling to fill my lungs with the fresh forested air.
“Shhh, it’s okay.” Fully enveloping me, he strokes a soothing hand down my spine, then back up. I clutch the front of his shirt, the buttons digging into my palms.
“Want me to show you some other constellations?” he asks with a hint of embarrassment in his tone.
“More than anything.”
His hand flows through the sky, drawing each image in the stars for me.
His voice gently naming constellation after constellation until the dark heavens are full of vibrant light.
Our bodies softly connected, faces so close I can hear his deep and steadying breath.
By the time he’s wrapping up his tour of the night sky, my tears have dried and the lifeline grip I had on his shirt has let up.
“So if not for impressing girls, why do you know so much about stars?”
“It was something my mom taught us when we were kids. I don’t know if she already knew this stuff, or if it was something she looked up specifically to teach us.
” He tightens his arms around me to combat a sudden bitter breeze.
“I already told you my dad wasn’t around much, between traveling for rodeos and picking up cowboy jobs on ranches from here to Manitoba.
Given how often he was gone for work, you’d think we’d have money, but we didn’t.
But Mom made sure we didn’t miss a single meteor shower or northern lights show, even if it meant hauling us out of bed at three a.m. It was free entertainment and education. ”
“I love that. You’re lucky to have a mom who loves you so much.”
“Yeah, I am. She’s my rock.” A crease forms between his thick, dark brows when I shiver so hard the entire truck quivers along with me. “Okay, honey. Let’s get out of here.”
I feel the loss of his tight hold deep in my bones, an ache through the marrow that has me reaching for him to help me slide off the side of his pickup, even if I don’t need it.
I loop my arms around his neck, my fingers gliding up the nape of his neck before tangling in his messy hair.
I give the back of his head a tug, pulling him toward me.
And the moment my sneakers hit the dense earth, my lips crash into his.