Headlights
COLT
I have never, in all my thirty-one years, felt more stupid than I do howling like a wolf at my kitchen ceiling.
But I can’t stop smiling, which I take as a good sign.
Dean is really going for it now, bowing out his arms as he lets out a high-pitched sound that’s half howl, half scream.
Lainey shakes her head so her howl reverberates, her hair going everywhere.
Gone is the perfectly put-together princess. She’s wild. Unhinged even. No fucks given about how she looks or what I think.
I think you’re hot as hell, honey.
She’s making my son laugh so hard he can hardly breathe.
It’s the kind of laughter that’s infectious. One minute, Lainey and I are locking eyes and howling like we’re Georgia Bulldog fans (God forbid. Texas forever!).
The next, Lainey breaks down and laughs too.
I think that’s why I “accidentally” confided in her about Billie and Ryder that morning we went riding.
There’s just something…down-to-earth about her.
Real. For a split second, I felt comfortable enough to let my guard down. I wouldn’t say I regret that.
In fact, I’d like to do it again, much as I hate to admit it.
Because all of a sudden, I’m joining in with a belly laugh. I wonder if I’m high. Maybe someone spiked the Shiners? I’ve only ever laughed like this when I was drunk or stoned, my sides aching, lungs spasming in an effort to pull in oxygen.
Come to think of it, I never ever saw Abby laugh this way, with tears leaking out of her eyes and her entire face going pink the way Lainey’s is.
I don’t mean to speak ill of the dead. It’s not fair to compare the two. Everybody’s different. And Abby’s not here to defend herself. Who knows? Maybe she laughed this way with other people? Maybe she didn’t feel comfortable doing it around me.
Or maybe I got so lost in trying to be a good dad that I forgot to be a good husband, one who’d make his wife laugh this way.
Done making that mistake.
Grabbing my phone out of my back pocket, I change the song. Dean leaps from his chair the second “Who Let the Dogs Out” starts.
“I love this song!” He wiggles his little bottom in time to the beat.
I’m not shocked when Lainey jumps up too and grabs his hands. Together they hoot and holler to the song, Lainey spinning Dean around the kitchen while she sways her hips.
Of course she’s a sexy fucking dancer.
Of course she’s playful, throwing her hands up over her head, rapping to the lyrics, popping her ass when the beat drops.
She’s real, unhinged and uninhibited, and I get half hard just watching her.
Even Elvis wags his tail, trotting faster than I’ve ever seen him move in an attempt to catch up to Lainey.
I don’t join in. I’m worried what will happen if I do. I start dancing with this girl—Lord, I did not make all this food just to set Dean in front of the TV with a yogurt pouch while I tear Lainey’s clothes off in the bedroom.
I assemble the rest of the haunted house while Dean and Lainey dance like lunatics around me.
Do I politely hint it’s time for dinner, bath, and bed? Thank Lainey for coming and walk her to the door?
But then that voice returns. Repeating what it just said.
Done making that mistake.
The song ends. I lower the volume and put my acoustic playlist back on.
“Guys, this is so fun.” Dean is panting, tugging on Lainey’s hands. “Can you come over every night, Miss Lainey?”
I do my best to dodge that particular bullet by holding up the LEGO house. “I finished, y’all.”
“Wow!” Lainey’s expression morphs into one of disbelieving joy as she lunges for the house, keeping Dean close. “See? We did it! All because you told me you liked LEGO sets.”
I extend my fist. “Proud of you, buddy. Spooky, right?”
Dean gives me the fist bump I’m looking for. “The spookiest.”
“How about you and Lainey do the ghosts and trees while I get plates ready for dinner?” My heart thumps. “Lainey, you’re staying for dinner, right? I reckon you worked up an appetite dancing like that.”
She presses her tongue against her bottom lip. “Like what?”
“Like you were being electrocuted.”
“The electric slide is a thing, Colton. Look it up.”
You gonna let me slide between your legs tonight?
“Yeah, Dad, look it up.” Dean bounces on his toes before turning back to me. “Please stay, Lainey. Dad’s short ribs are the best. Maybe you can stay for a sleepover too?” He turns to me. “Dad, can she stay for a sleepover?”
What’s that saying? No good deed goes unpunished?
I feel that in my soul right now.
Running a hand over my face, I push out a laugh that I hope sounds less nervous than I feel.
Fuck, why am I nervous?
I don’t get nervous. Probably because I make it a point to never get invested. I don’t care whether Lainey stays for dinner. Just like I don’t care that having her over is a lot of fucking fun.
The house just feels…lighter somehow. It’s clearing the dark cloud that’s been hanging over me ever since I found out my sister’s hooking up with Hartsville’s very own cowboy Casanova.
Ryder’s a good man at his core, but in all the years I’ve known him, he’s never rested his head on the same pillow twice.
I’m scared he’ll hurt Billie. Angry the two of them went behind my back.
There’s something else lurking in the swirl of shit I feel about it all too. Something that makes my stomach hurt, that I can’t—won’t—name.
I take pride in how Dean and I have made this house a home. He and I work hard to take care of it. Guess it’s just nice to have someone over to enjoy it with us.
Maybe I really am lonely, much as I hate to admit it.
Still, my heart takes a tumble of relief when Lainey says, “I’d love to stay. You sure—”
“I’m sure.” I rise from the table and tuck my chair underneath it. “Another beer?”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
She pushes up her sleeves. “What can I do? How about I make the plates—”
“Naw, Dallas, you’re gonna sit.” I nod at the table before heading for the stove. “Y’all gotta finish building the rest of that spooky stuff, remember?”
Is that heat I see in her eyes?
She like it when I boss her around?
Or does she just like to be fed? Taken care of?
She also looks a little lost as she glances at the table.
“You all right?” I ask.
“Yeah. Yeah, I just… It’s weird to be sitting again. In a good way, I mean. Growing up, I was always helping my mom do everything. She waits on everyone.”
“And now it’s weird letting someone wait on you.”
She blinks. “Yes. Exactly.”
You’d best get used to it when you’re with me.
No clue where that thought comes from. But I’m suddenly gripped by the fierce need to show her how it’s properly done—how she should be treated.
That’s something Dean needs to learn. Absolutely why I’m doing it. Yes. For Dean.
Not at all for naked purposes, because that would be shameless and wrong.
Not like waiting on people isn’t second nature for me. Been doing it for what feels like forever. You got no choice when you’re raising a baby on your own. You just put your head down and get to work.
Might as well let Lainey enjoy the fruits of my labor.
“Sit,” I repeat. “Don’t make me tell you again.”
One side of her mouth kicks up. “Or what?”
Or I’m gonna feed you more than just dinner.
Lord, my mind is one dirty motherfucker tonight.
Do I care?
“Miss Lainey, can we draw together?” Dean asks. “Remember you said we could.”
She gasps. “That’s right! Here, let me get my notebook so I can show you what I’m working on.” She cuts me a glance as she walks across the kitchen to her bag. “It’s top secret stuff, though, so we can’t show your dad.”
Dean gets up and opens the cabinet where we keep his arts and crafts stuff. “I can keep secrets.”
A minute later, Lainey and Dean are back at the table, heads bent together as they whisper and sketch in Lainey’s notebook with colored pencils. I’m more than a little curious about what they’re working on.
The LEGO set has been placed carefully to the side.
Her buying it and bringing it over was an unexpectedly thoughtful gesture.
And while I know she’d like to improve our working relationship, I somehow don’t think this gift has anything to do with that.
She’s having too much fun building things.
Dancing. Showering my son with attention.
Aw, hell. Lainey is just being plain old kind, isn’t she? For no other reason other than she’s a good person. One who apparently has a big heart.
No ulterior motive. Although I almost wish she had one—the motive, of course, being sex with me.
My hands shake a little as I strain the gravy and make quick work of thickening it with a flour slurry and a lot of butter.
Tasting it, I hum. That’s good.
Not gonna lie, my stomach does a happy little somersault at the idea of showing off for Lainey.
“You good with gravy? Vegetables?” I ask.
“I’m good with anything. Food just might be my favorite thing.”
Funny, but I like to eat too. She gonna finally let me taste her? I got no idea how a hookup would happen tonight. I gotta get Dean to bed, and even then, he doesn’t go down right away. I can’t leave him to go to her place.
And then there’s the fact that I haven’t had another woman in my bed—at my house—since Abby.
But it’s weird and kinda wonderful to pile not two but three plates with food. I made enough to feed an army. When I turn around, a plate in each of my hands, I startle.
Lainey’s standing there, arms outstretched. “Old habits die hard.”
“I told you to sit.”
“I will after you let me help you. Many hands make light work.” She smirks. “Another fun saying about hands: Idle hands are the devil’s workshop.”
“What does idle mean?” Dean asks.
“Maybe I want yours idle, then.” I nod at the table. “Sit.”
“On it.” She plucks the plates out of my hands.
I let out a bark of laughter. “You’re bad.”
“I thought you said I was annoyingly perfect?”
“Maybe being your kind of bad is part of that.”
Lainey tilts her pretty head. “I like that idea.”
I like you.
I mean, I still hate her for taking Dad’s money for a useless reason. You can’t be enemies with benefits and not hate each other. But there’s a side to Lainey that I…really don’t mind.