Dinner and a Deep Dive #2
I grin right back. “I’m kinda proud of the fact that I can test the limits of a real cowboy. Y’all live on the edge.”
“We’re badass. But you gotta give yourself more credit.”
You gotta stop being so fucking wonderful.
Sipping his whiskey, he sets down the glass. “Speaking of, is your mom doing any better?”
“Yes and no. I’m not sure she’s any happier, but I think she’s gotten to a level of acceptance that makes her life tolerable.”
Colton looks away. “Is loving your life a ridiculous ask of the universe, though? Like, is it even possible? I like your idea of saying yes to more shit, but…”
I love how open he is tonight. So easy to talk to. Not about bullshit but about real things. Things I think about often but never really talk through.
“I hope it’s not a ridiculous ask,” I reply. “Did you love your life? Before—”
“My wife died?” He runs a hand over his face. “I thought I did. I wanted to. But in retrospect, I’m not so sure.”
“Oh. Wow. Interesting.”
He pulls his brows together. “This is not exactly scintillating first-date material, this story.”
“Who cares? You already know you’re getting laid.”
“I am?”
I elbow him. “Tell me. Only if you want to, of course. But I’m down to listen.”
“All right.” He falls back against the booth, taking another sip of whiskey. “Abby and I met freshman year of high school. We dated for a while. She was my first everything, you know? We were crazy about each other. Or I was crazy about her at least. I asked her to marry me the day we graduated.”
I nod. “Y’all started young.”
“Too young. But we didn’t know any better, because that’s what our parents did, and their parents before them. We waited awhile to have Dean, though. She wasn’t sure she was ready to have a baby.”
“But you were?”
He lifts a massive shoulder. “I always knew I wanted to be a daddy. I was head over heels in love with Abby, and I’d just been promoted to foreman. Figured there was no better time to start a family.”
My heart squeezes. A literal squeeze that has me feeling short of breath. The more I hang out with Colton, the more I realize that his grumpy asshole exterior is exactly that—an exterior, a protective shell.
He’s actually, shockingly, a bit of a teddy bear inside.
I keep my hand on his knee. “That’s sweet. I admire you for knowing what you wanted so early. I still don’t know if I want kids.”
“I won’t try to sway you one way or the other. Yes, Dean is absolutely the best thing I ever did, but he’s also the hardest thing.”
“I like that you can be real about parenting. It looks incredibly tough, but there’s all this messaging about how magical it is and how my life will be pointless if I don’t have kids.”
Colton cuts me a look. “You’re too smart to believe that bullshit.”
“And you’re too smart to think a ‘tolerable’ life is all you deserve.”
“We’re getting deep tonight, aren’t we?” His gaze glimmers with mischief.
I roll my eyes. “I’m not even going to acknowledge that with a joke.”
“Anyway, Abby and I started growing apart even before Dean was born. I think she wanted to want to be a wife and live on a ranch and, you know, be Paige Wallace two-point-oh. But I was so busy, and she was bored. So she ended up getting a job at the high school here in town.”
“Did she teach?”
“She was a history teacher, yes. She started spending more time there, and I was spending, God, all my time on the ranch. My siblings were all still so young, and I felt like I needed to start carrying my weight and maybe theirs too. I didn’t want to be pushy with Abby about having kids, but I started to wonder if she and I just wanted different things.
I finally convinced her to try. It was the first time we…
yeah, in a long time. Once Dean came along, we were pretty much roommates from that point on.
” He swallows the rest of his whiskey. “A year later, I find out she was having an affair with one of the football coaches. We were going to separate, but then she got diagnosed with stage four cancer.”
I cover my mouth with my hand. “Oh my God.” Oh my God.
My pulse pounds in my ears. What a tragedy.
I can’t imagine the pain of that kind of betrayal and heartbreak. No wonder Colton’s always braced for a fight. No wonder he’d resist change like his life depended on it. To have his world suddenly upended that way—
“The cancer was aggressive. She was young, no family history, so it took us totally off guard.” He clears his throat. “She died just before Dean turned three.”
I don’t know what to do. What to say. I just slide the hand I have on his leg up and down. Up and down.
I’m here. I’m sorry. That sucks.
He puts his hand over mine, gliding his fingers between my own so that they weave together. The scrape of his calluses against my skin sends a shock wave of awareness through my center.
“So you see, it’s complicated,” he says, voice gruff. “My situation.”
I nod. “I see that.”
“Actually.” He gives my hand a squeeze. “That’s a lie. My past is complicated. But you—this, how I feel right now—that’s not complicated at all. Never would’ve guessed that’d be the case, but…”
“But it’s awesome.” I pause. Think. “Maybe because it’s so unexpected.” I nudge him, smiling. “Does that mean you’re on board with the rebrand too?”
He laughs. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. Baby steps, honey.”
But he’ll try.
He is trying. And listening. And pampering me to an absurd degree.
I feel myself getting choked up. Crying is totally inappropriate first-date behavior, even though this doesn’t feel like a first date at all. We seemed to have zoomed right past small talk to dive headfirst into the deep end.
It’s refreshing.
It’s terrifying.
It’s everything I didn’t know I needed.
The server appears, asking us if we’re ready to place our orders.
We both get the filet, with sides of soy-glazed brussels sprouts and twice-baked potatoes.
It’s the most delicious meal I’ve had yet.
Or maybe it just seems that way because Colton and I talk about everything and nothing as we eat, leaning closer and closer until our bodies are touching shoulder to shoes. Or boots, in our case.
Moving between the hard stuff and the silly stuff, the things that still hurt and the things we can laugh about now, feels strangely effortless. Like there’s no judgment here. No expectations.
No pressure to be anything but our very messy selves.
We talk for a while. So long that I lose track of time, only vaguely aware of the way the light outside the windows fades to black.
Hartsville may be a teeny-tiny town, but the restaurant is buzzing.
People wait at the nearby bar for tables to open up, sipping their Shiners and tequila as they chat, laugh, flirt.
A George Strait song plays. Colton insists we get dessert, then puts his hand on my thigh and moves his pinkie finger up, up, a wash of heat settling between my legs.
I grab his forearm, my skin tightening at the thick, solid feel of him here. “So are we going dancing, or…”
That dark chuckle I know so well. “No one wants to go back to your place more’n me.” His pinkie arcs over my bare skin, so close to where I want him I could scream. “Trust, honey, Imma lay you down. But I want you to experience the Rattler, just once. I’ll make it worth your while.”
“Okay. Can we make it kinda quick, though?”
Colton presses the tip of his pinkie to my underwear. “At the Rattler, yes. But afterward? I’m takin’ my time with you.”
Oh God oh God oh God.
“Don’t you have to get back—”
“Tate and Nash are liable to fall asleep on my couch and stay there all night after Dean goes down. We got time.”
Time he wants to spend with you.
“If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”
“Great.” I look up, searching for our server. “Let’s get the check—”
“Already taken care of.”
I stare at him. “What? How—” Understanding dawns. “You gave her your card when you went to the bathroom, didn’t you?”
“Oldest trick in the book.”
“Here.” I reach for my bag. “I’ll pay you back—”
“No, ma’am, that’s one thing we don’t got time for.” Sliding out of the booth, he stands and holds out his hand to me. “I gotta take you dancing.”