38. Colton
thirty-eight
Colton
“H ey, boss, where you been?” Orson asks when I show up mid-day at the garage in the Subaru. “Got us worried.”
“Huh?” Kiara’s scent was still floating in the car, and it’s like I can feel her all around me while I make my way to my office.
I hook my leather jacket behind my door and walk straight inside the bay, out of habit. Then, forgetting what I came here for, I back out again into the reception area. Maybe if I check the computer I’ll get some sense of what I should be doing today.
“Colt?” Orson asks.
“Yup?” I scroll through the calendar without really seeing anything. God I wish that snowstorm had lasted a whole week, kept us holed up for days.
“What you been up to? How was the race?”
I lift my eyes to my oldest employee and squint. The race. Right. “Um… went great, placed first.”
“Uh-huh.”
I sense something, so I add, “Got stuck down there, buddy put me up. You guys did okay without me this morning?”
Orson shuffles. “Not really. Kiara didn’t bring her muffins. Think she’s alright? Should we call her?” I draw a blank, and it must show, because he continues. “We can’t assume she’s gonna bring muffins every Monday, but she has for years, so… I think we should check on her.”
“Oh… um…” I straighten from the computer. “No, she… she’s fine. She’s totally fine… just uh…”
He frowns. “She sick? Those migraines again?”
“Yes! Yes. Migraines. That’s it.” I focus back on the computer screen. Let’s see… oil change. There. I’m gonna do that right now, get my head back in the game.
“Shame she doesn’t have a boyfriend.”
I lift my eyebrows but know better than to answer.
“Who doesn’t have a boyfriend?” Patrick asks as he walks in.
“Kiara. She got one of her migraines again.”
“Oh yeah. She needs a man,” Patrick drops.
I stare them down. “What the fuck you guys talking about?”
“It’s a known fact,” Orson says, picking at his nails. “There’s a direct correlation between orgasms and migraines. The more orgasms, the less migraines.”
“She must have had a shit weekend,” Patrick concludes as he grabs an order from the printer and examines it closely.
I feel myself heat up, but I clench my jaw. I don’t need to engage in this conversation. They’re clearly trying to rile me up. Fishing for information they already have.
“I’ll be doing Craig’s oil change.” Before I even reach the first bay, I hear them laughing uncontrollably.
I should probably rough them a little for daring to bring up orgasms in the context of Kiara, but I know they didn’t mean disrespect. They just wanted to talk to me about it. Deep down, they’re happy for me, and why wouldn’t they be? She’s the best woman there is, and they do like their boss.
I grab the socket wrench and get to work. Once the drain plug is loosened, the familiar scent of oil and metal fills the air as the catch pan fills. It’s a good thing I could do this in my sleep, because while I unscrew the filter, replace the drain plug, pour new oil, check the dipstick, and go through all the routine tasks I’ve done a million times, my mind is on Kiara’s breasts, Kiara’s smile, Kiara’s heels in my butt, Kiara scent, and the sounds she makes when I take care of her.
After I’m done, I can’t stand it anymore. I get back behind the computer in the reception area and pull out my phone.
Hey beautiful
Sweets
Hi handsome. How’s your day going?
Can’t wait til tonight
…
…
Same 3
I’ve been a good girl
My dick stretches painfully, and I ignore the calls coming from the bay. Something about a socket wrench.
Yeah? Tell me
I worked on my business
…
That better be dirty talk.
Hahahaha! It’s not.
We’re gonna have to work on your sexting skills.
…
…
…
What’s wrong?
I don’t know how to do that.
Me neither. Never done that before. So let’s set some rules. Rule #1 is, you don’t call yourself a good girl or a bad girl and—
“Hey boss!”
“Just a sec.”
not follow up with something real dirty
Oh okay
I been a real good girl
Yeah?
I read a real dirty romance and didn’t finish myself.
“Boss!” Orson is standing in front of me, so I tuck my phone in my shirt pocket and hope to god he doesn’t notice my erection. Jesus Christ! I’m a fucking teenager.
Patrick comes right behind Orson. “Colton, man! Where’s the socket wrench?”
“The what now?”
They both look at me like I’m crazy, and maybe I am, because right now I just want to get back to my phone.
Yup, fucking teenager.
“I found it!” Linwood calls from the bay. “Jesus Christ, dude,” he yells, his voice coming stronger as he gets closer. “It was in the metal recycling bin!” he says, holding the tool up.
They all look at me like I have three heads.
I lift my hands in apology. “Dunno what happened.”
Orson rolls his eyes, Patrick and Linwood mumble incomprehensibly, and they all return to work.
But then Patrick yells “Fuuuck!” and when I run into the bay, I stop in my tracks. There’s a huge oil spill under Craig’s car.
“I guess someone forgot to tighten the drain plug before refilling,” Orson says. Turning to me, he adds, “Don’t you have somewhere you need to be?”
“Shit. Let me deal with this.”
He shakes his head. “The silly phase will do that to ya.”
I frown at him. “Dunno what you’re talking about.” The ribbing about Kiara’s migraines was one thing, but I don’t want to talk about phases with Orson.
He arches a bushy eyebrow. “You met my wife? She makes sure I know everything I need to know. Get outta here, we’ll take care of that. And get your head on straight, will ya? You made enough of a mess to last us a whole year.”
Grunting, he adds, “I’ll keep an eye out for you at the garage.” He punctuates this with a back slap. “Just don’t mess up with her. They broke the mold.”
I might be in the silly phase, but I still have it together enough to stop at Town Hall before heading to Lazy’s. I spend an hour in the offices looking up the variances the town has approved over the past two years, and I leave rather unsettled. It’s not looking good.
But when I walk into Lazy’s, the sight of Kiara sitting at the bar next to Willow brightens my mood. We’ll figure it out.
I slide up to her, barely noticing Justin and Haley behind the bar, and Chris, Alex, Grace, Ethan, and Noah at the nearest booth.
She whips around, her cheeks get some color, and her hand goes up to my chest. “Hey,” she says. I don’t know how Kiara feels about PDA, and I don’t want to make her do something she’s not comfortable doing in front of our friends. I want to kiss the daylights out of her, and if it was just me, I’d carry her to my truck and we’d go home to fuck the night away.
Granted, we have our whole life for this. I can exercise some restraint for an hour or so—but not much more.
She swivels on her stool and places her knees on each side of me, tugging on my jacket to bring me closer. “I missed you.” Her other hand plays with my hair. “Aren’t you gonna say hi?”
I did not see that coming. After all the running around in circles she had me do, she’s totally liberated and upfront about what’s going on between us.
No complaints.
The sound of Justin setting a foaming pint in front of me—“On the house,” he says as he sets the beer down rather loudly—doesn’t break the magnetic field that is Kiara’s silver gaze on me. I lean down and kiss her softly on the mouth. Damn I missed her. And damn I want her again, so bad.
She returns my kiss, the tip of her tongue briefly wetting my lips. I grip the bar with one hand so I don’t bring her deeper against me.
Justin might be my friend, but he has standards for his bar.
I pull away from her. My gaze slides to Willow, who’s looking at us with an unconcealed look of victory. “You’re welcome,” she mouths.
Chris straightens and semi-shouts, “Can we talk about how Kiara is glued to Colt like a naked hand on an ice-cold mailbox?”
“Nice metaphor, babe,” Alex says.
Willow pushes her stool back and runs around the bar with her hands in the air, shouting, “Whoot! Whoot!”
Noah shakes his head and wipes his glasses, Grace comes around to give Kiara a hug, then leans over to me and whispers for my ears only, “You hurt her, you answer to me.”
How and why the fuck would I hurt Kiara? I frown at my sister, my fuck-off look on my face. She shrugs, winks, and says, “It’s a Bitch Brigade thing. Just thought you should know.”
Justin comes back with three bottles of hard cider. “Best I have, until Haley gets off her ass and makes her own.” His sister gives him a friendly shove and helps him fill our glasses.
After they’ve all toasted to us, we’ve polished off three more bottles, and we’ve helped Justin clear the tables, Chris takes Kiara and me aside. I bring Kiara against me, loving the way she fits perfectly under my arm, loving the way her face tilts up to mine, the way her hand grabs my shirt around my waist like she needs something to tether herself to. Feeling her so vulnerable undoes me. I know how she’s feeling right now. Like she jumped off a cliff and isn’t sure about her parachute. “We’re gonna be okay, sweets,” I whisper. “I promise.” I lean over to kiss her temple.
Chris looks between the two of us. “You’re two of my favorite people. I didn’t see it coming, but it doesn’t mean I don’t like it. I fucking love it for you guys, and for me.” He ruffles Kiara’s hair, and she swats his hand away, leaving my side to sit back with the group of women.
Then he takes me in a bear hug. “I kinda thought there was something going on between you two when you first brought her to me for a job. What happened?” he asks once he releases me.
“She uh…” Laughter takes a hold of me at the memory seared in my brain. “She said she’d chop my balls off if I ever looked at her that way again.”
He chuckles. “Sounds like something she’d say. She gonna be okay?”
“What do you mean?” Does he think her being with me is a problem?
Chris looks down at his feet, then over my shoulder. “Alex’s been wondering why she’s not applying for a grant with her. We all know she could be doing so much better. Not sure how to help her if she won’t let us.”
“She’s trying to make it on her own, but I’m working on getting her to ask for help. Right now, she’s looking for a place to open her own business, but it’s not easy to find.” From my research at Town Hall, getting the variance will be a tall order. “At the same time, she applied to this training in France. She thinks it’ll help her—”
“Help her with what? She could probably teach them.”
“She’s self-taught. Self-conscious about it.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it. They have nothing on her.”
“She doesn’t see it that way. She thinks with a stamp of approval…” I hesitate and speak my fears, “hell, with a high position somewhere international for a while… she thinks it would make a difference in her career.”
“Dude—”
“Women have it harder than we do,” I say, suddenly seeing the world through Kiara’s eyes. “It sucks, and hopefully that bullshit will be over when your kid is all grown up, but it’s true. They have to fight harder to get to the same place. And if Kiara thinks going to that school can help her, I’m not gonna stand in her way and try and convince her otherwise. Because what do I know? I’d just be trying to keep her here for myself. I’d be part of the problem. And I wanna be part of the solution, even if that school doesn’t end up being the solution for her. End of the day, what she needs is confidence, and if Paris gives her that, and hell, Tokyo, Dubai, or wherever the fuck she might end up, then… I’ll support that.”
“But—”
“Look, Annabel wasn’t against it, so…”
“Annabel?”
“Yeah, Annabel Plum, the—”
“I know who Annabel Fucking Plum is! How do they know each other?”
I tell him the story of how I met Annabel’s husband, how Annabel was introduced to Kiara’s baking (he laughs so hard at the part where I suggested she take inspiration from Kiara’s pie that his eyes well up), and the date I arranged for Kiara.
“What did Annabel say about going to that training in France?” he asks, sobering up.
My gaze zeros in on Kiara at the other side of the room, currently gushing over Grace’s nails. “You know, she didn’t say. But she’s who made me realize the whole part about women seeking recognition more than men do.”
Chris grunts. “She didn’t try to talk her out of it?”
“Nope.”
“Thing is, with people like Annabel who come full circle and end up where they started, they don’t always realize the journey is what made their destination,” he says.
The fuck does he mean? “You’re gonna have to spell that out for me.”
“Annabel doesn’t seek fame and accolades because… she’s had those. She came back down from her high and settled in her home state, but it took her twenty years.”
“Thirty,” I snap, seeing where he’s going. “I love Kiara. And if that’s what she wants, if that’s what she thinks she needs, I want her to have it.”
“Even if that means losing her?”
My heart shatters at his words. I know it’s unrealistic to believe that we could have a long-distance relationship that would span decades and still survive. “One thing at a time,” I answer, more for my sake than his.
If I want to be there for Kiara, be the man she needs, there are certain things I’m not ready to fully face yet. Hell, I have a heart too, and it needs protecting like any other.