Chapter 5 Colton
COLTON
“Straight men are not that insecure about gay men. It’s fucking weird,” I whisper-shout as I slam my beer down forcefully.
“Colton Lee! Just because the man got hot and wants to make sure you know not to hit on him and press his boundaries, doesn’t prove that he has anything to hide. Chill out, right now,” Halle snarks back at me, rolling her eyes as she wipes off the counter I just spilled beer on.
My sister is nine years older than me, and her ability to give me a death glare that’s worse than my own mother’s is terrifying. Jokes on her, though; looks can’t kill me.
Straight men don’t freak out like that over a compliment.
I get that I was hitting on him … but I’d never admit that to him.
Fuck yeah, I was hitting on him. How could I not?
He was cute as my first crush—blue eyes and unruly blond hair. But now? He’s insanely hot, and, from the sounds of it, stiffer than a board around every woman he’s ever dated.
Coincidence? I fucking doubt it.
The flush that hit his cheeks could have caused me to melt.
Those Thornwood boys are built different. Must be the milk from those damn cows or some shit. Whatever it is, it’s working on me in a way it hasn’t in a long time.
Damn, he turned out real well.
Shaking my head, I finally zone back in on Halle, who’s clearly murdered my ass in her head a few times.
Putting her finger in my face, her tone brokers no room for negotiation. “Colt…I support a lot of dumb shit you do. But egging on Rhett Thornwood isn’t something I can support. You had your beef and squashed it. Do not provoke him again.”
“I can’t help that my breathing pisses him off. That’s actually not my fault. I did my job today. That’s all I can do.”
For now…
The idea of messing with Rhett just enough to make him squirm is too good to resist, though.
I love it when my man gets wound up easily.
She rolls her eyes and walks off to help another customer at the other end of the bar, and a strong hand pats me on the back.
“I heard you made it through the day without fucking anything up. Congratulations.” Cash laughs and Dawson joins in.
Rhett stands off to the side, clearly uncomfortable that he has to deal with me again today. The scrunch in his nose as he feigns indifference tells me everything I need to know.
Game on, Golden Boy.
I cut my eyes back to Cash before anyone notices how long I lingered on Rhett. “Yeah man, it wasn’t so bad. I just didn’t realize how much the farm had expanded since high school. It’s got to be at least double or so now—way more animals.”
Before Cash can say another word, Dawson butts in. “Yeah, I asked for more land to breed and train the horses as a graduation present from Grandpa. Thank God the old man saw my vision and let me add on, which is why you’re seeing more animals than before.”
Jerking his thumb toward Rhett, as if he’s oblivious to his brother’s discomfort at being around me, he says, “Rhett knows everything there is to know about the ranch—picked it all up from Grandpa and Dad. He’ll be the one taking over when Uncle Luke retires.”
“Do you think he will ever retire?”
“Aunt Sarah will make him eventually…she’s scarily convincing,” Dawson says.
Cash just rolls his eyes, flagging Halle down to order drinks.
“Yeah, yeah, Golden Boy is good at being a Golden Boy—how surprising. He’ll pop out little carbon copies of him and Molly once he figures out how to seal that deal.
” He leans into Rhett, nudging him with his elbow playfully before turning to Halle to order some beers.
The idea of Rhett popping out kids with Molly turns my blood to ice as jealousy floods my system.
Dawson shrugs. “She seems a bit clingy for my taste.”
Cash turns back around and passes out beers to me and Rhett before making his way back to the pool tables.
He sets his beer down to rack the balls and beckons all of us over.
Once the three of us make our way over, he starts handing out orders. “We’ve got four so we can play teams. Dawson, you’re with me.”
Rhett finally speaks up, his tone clearly annoyed. “Why the hell do you get Dawson? I want him on my team.”
“Because I want to win, and you told Dad that you and Colt worked well together today. So you can do it again, right?” He cocks his brow, knowing he’s backed Rhett into a corner.
Before things get heated—and to throw out a peace offering for the summer—I step between them, nodding at Dawson, who’s chalking his cue with a grin from ear to ear.
“What is so special about Pony Boy over there and pool? You two look like you’re about to murder each other over a game that hasn’t even started. ”
All three of them laugh—partly at the joke, partly at my naivety.
I arch an eyebrow, chalk my own cue, and catch Rhett’s eye, testing just how far I can push the friendly vibe. Snagging an extra cue from the wall, I hand it to him.
“Saddle up, cowboy. It’s time to kick some ass.”
Cash and Dawson watch the awkward interaction to see what their brother will do, and when he tenses slightly, all three of us hold our breath.
Rhett squares his shoulders and takes the cue from me. “Yeah, let’s do it.”
Our fingers touch for a brief moment, and his eyes go wide. He instantly shakes off whatever feeling he got as he puts a few feet between us.
Getting under Rhett Thornwood’s skin probably shouldn’t be a hobby, but somehow, it’s turning into one this summer.
Once we all agree on who’s going to break, by playing two-to-three rounds of rock-paper-scissors, we are finally ready to play.
Cash lines up his cue to break as I walk over to stand next to Rhett.
Touching his arm to pull his attention away from the game, I speak quietly so his brothers don’t hear. “You going to tell me what got you all weird today?”
“I—” he starts.
“Stripes,” Cuts through whatever he was going to say as Cash continues. “Y’all are solids. Who’s first?”
Rhett leans over the pool table—lining his shot up—his shirt riding up a little, showing off his happy trail. My dick jumps at the thought of following that down to see what I’m working with.
Leaning my cue against the table, I turn around to adjust myself and grab my beer.
He sinks the first ball into a pocket and maneuvers around the table, leaning down, bent over the table in front of me. Taking a chance, I hold my breath, unsure if this is going to tip the scale or not, but I can’t help it.
While Rhett’s lining up the shot, I lean over his shoulders, my thigh touching the back of his leg before commenting, “A little more to the left and you should get it in the hole.”
His breath hitches at our proximity before he recovers. “Yeah, thanks. I got it.” He shrugs me off and I back up.
Of course, the asshole doesn’t listen to me and instead misses his shot. I shake my head, then take a swig of my beer.
“Shit,” Rhett mutters before straightening up.
Dawson is up next, and with a precision that all of us lack, he sinks four balls with ease.
“Damn, kid, I get it now. I would have put my name in the hat to be your partner too if I would have known.”
Turning to Rhett, I say, “You’re a shit partner and gave me no warning that your little brother is a shark. Thanks a lot, man. I thought you were better than that.”
He cracks a smile—a real one—chuckling a bit, right along with his brothers.
The look makes my heart skip a beat. How the hell do I make him look like that all the time?
“My bad. I thought everyone in town knew how good Dawson is, so I just assumed you’d know too.”
He takes a sip of his beer, and the words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them. “I did not, so thanks a lot, Golden Boy.” I shoulder-check him playfully as I set up my shot on the other side of the table.
Right before I send the ball spiraling toward the pocket in front of him, I look up, catching his eye. “Also, you should smile like that more often. It looks good on you.”
He bristles, but doesn’t say anything as the ball sinks into the pocket.
The night goes on, and I continue with my smart-ass comments while eye-fucking Rhett Thornwood, watching as he pretends to not be affected. But he’s fucking delusional.
I mean, come on, when the corner of his lip tilts upward, or when his neck flushes, I want to pounce on him.
Cash forces shots of Jack Daniel’s on us since we keep losing, and that lets Rhett loosen up a little more, even allowing him to open up and act a little more natural around all of us.
I didn’t know Rhett Thornwood just needed a few shots of whiskey.
We finally win a game, which means Cash has to do the shot this time.
Rhett looks at me, grinning ear to ear, as Cash downs the shot in one go.
“Fucking finally!“ He laughs, holding his hand out for a high five.
Slapping my hand into his, Cash shouts, “Shots. Everybody, shots.”
Dawson excuses himself to the bathroom, and Rhett and I get roped into it.
Cash sets the shot glasses in front of each of us, saying, “Bottoms up, bitches.”
We raise our glasses together, clinking them against each other, and the liquid courage makes me feel brave.
“Cheers to you finally pulling that stick out of your ass,” I say, winking as I down the Jack Daniel’s, savoring the burn all the way.
Rhett splutters, coughing from almost choking on his shot. “Fuck you.”
“In your dreams, Thornwood.” I set down my glass, not breaking eye contact. “But seriously, you smiled. Like, actually smiled. Didn’t know you were capable.”
“Colt,” he warns, but he’s too buzzed to have a true argument right now.
“What? I’m just appreciating the view.” I let my eyes drag over him slow enough that he notices.
“Sue me for giving you the same treatment you’ve been giving me.
Don’t think I didn’t notice.” Cash and Dawson make their way back to the table, so I change my tune for them.
“No, seriously. Sober Rhett is wound tighter than a nun. Drunk Rhett? Almost fun.”
Cash pats his shoulder while Dawson racks the balls for another game.
“He’s right, dude. This has been fun. Colt really brings out the fun in you,” Dawson says.
I’d bring out a lot more if he let me.
Rhett bites his tongue, as if whatever he was going to say wasn’t worth it at all, and heads to the bathroom.
Pretending to flip my imaginary long locks over my shoulder, I blow air kisses at him as he walks away before grabbing my beer and cue to take my turn.
Sinking a couple balls into different pockets to give us an advantage for this game, I finally decide to break the seal.
I just want to see his fucking face, alone, in the hallway, with me.
I know he’s into me.
Will he combust on the spot?
Setting my beer and cue down, I nod to Dawson to get his attention as Cash takes his turn. “Be right back, dude.”
He nods and I take off to the bathroom, swaying to some song I’ve heard in Halle’s car before. Turning the corner into the hallway, I run straight into him.
Jackpot.
“Sorry,” I mumble, half-heartedly.
Rhett and I meet each other’s gaze, and maybe it’s the drinks, but I swear I see something in his eyes that’s more than just friendly. He’s into me, even if he doesn’t want to admit it yet.
Being tense with our proximity, he backs up, making this too easy. I put my arms against the wall, caging him in.
“I told you, Golden Boy, you’re not my type,” I whisper, pushing my body flush against his, and that’s when I feel it.
His rock hard cock pressed against me.
Holy fuck.
My eyes widen a fraction, but before I can speak, panic flares in his face, and he tries to shove me away. I tighten my arms, keeping him caged against me so he can’t deny it.
Hell no. He’s not getting away—not now.
“Straight men don’t get this hard for another man.” I lay the truth out for him.
His lips tighten into a hard line, and I loosen my hold on him a bit to create some space between us. When he doesn’t move, I do. My fingertips lightly press into his shirt and I drag them down his chest, my eyes trailing behind them. I find his eyes glued to my fingertips, his breath ragged.
My fingers touch the hem of his pants, brushing against the head of his cock, which is tucked up and into his waistband. Suddenly, whatever trance we were in breaks as he shoves me hard, causing me to stumble back against the opposite wall.
As I catch myself, he spits out, “Fuck you,” before storming off through the bar and out the door.
Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.
Rhett Thornwood was most definitely hard for me.