Chapter 9
Hallie
Each year, the first date for bachelor auction participants is working for the nonprofit in some capacity.
This year, volunteers are prepping senior homes for winter freezes.
We are tackling honey-do items for seniors in need, from changing out air filters to securing gutters to winterizing property.
One group is working with a skilled nursing facility to build a memorial garden plus a gazebo for residents to sit under.
Brooke and I opted for the skilled nursing build and arrived early with cups of cocoa in hand.
Two of our Magnolia sisters are in charge of the gazebo project today, so we wait near the supply tables for our dates to show up.
Eight couples are working on the gazebo build today, including Liz and Colt. Sigh.
I don’t really want to see Liz, but the thought of seeing the handsome cowboy makes everything else fade into background noise.
“Hi, ladies.” Nate approaches holding up a cardboard carrier with three coffee cups. “Grabbed lattes on the way. Thought you might need extra caffeine.”
We thank him and chat for a few until Liz walks up. Her face lights up as soon as she sees him, and I swear she almost looks human when accepting his latte. She doesn’t even snark at me or Brooke.
The time passes quickly, with all of us working hard to make improvements to the nursing facility. I’m supposed to be focusing on nailing boards, but my attention keeps drifting to a certain cowboy I’d like to nail instead.
Have you ever watched one of those movies where the camera slowly pans over a shirtless man, his muscles gleaming while throwing bales of hay or washing a fire truck? That’s what it’s like watching Colt Sawyer haul deck boards across the grass. Granted, he’s not shirtless, but he might as well be.
It’s a mild December day, roughly sixty-five degrees, and it’s is flying by. At high noon, the sun is blazing. Drenched in sweat, he’s put himself in charge of the whole project—from design changes to who is doing what.
The nursing facility has a large live oak in the center of its circular drive. So, in addition to a gazebo off to the side, Colt recommended we create a stone pathway and small seating area so that residents and patients can enjoy the shade of the tree. Brilliant idea.
So we divided into two teams: the deck and gazebo builders, and the stone patio builders. Sawyer Farms donated all the stone for the sitting area, which made my lady parts wake up instantly.
Colt decided that our weird little crew was on gazebo duty with him, which makes sense given the weird couple dynamics at play. All of us have a crush on someone else.
“I think you need to wipe the drool from your mouth,” Liz taunts as I stare at Colt fitting the next board into place.
“Jealous?” Brooke fires back.
Liz narrows her eyes and heads over to Gentry, practically rubbing against him like a cat, which is odd given that she’s followed Nate around all day. Nate doesn’t like it and calls out, “Brooke, darlin’, wanna help me with this?”
“Good grief.” Liz shoves past Brooke, grabbing the board before my bestie gets the chance to move.
When Colt shoots a knowing look my way, and I hide my giggle by turning around.
The afternoon has its share of entertainment.
Liz “accidentally” drops her water bottle, making Nate bend down to pick it up while she watches.
Brooke rolls her eyes so hard she nearly falls off the ladder and right into Gentry, who’s conveniently positioned right there and catches her with a smug grin.
They stay frozen in the spot, my bestie in his arms, while he looks down at her.
They should recreate that move the wedding photos.
Later, Colt pulls up his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face, and I almost nail my own thumb instead of the board. He sees my slip-up and winks, heading over to check on me.
“Want to refill the Gatorade with me, cupcake?”
“Sure.”
He grabs the large cooler, and we head inside to the kitchen, where the staff has given us permission to set up an area just for our crew to snack and refill as needed.
Before we reach the back entrance, I catch my toe on a crack in the pavement and stumble right into Colt. He catches me one-handed, his biceps flexing, my mouth landing dangerously close to his. What is with all the catching today?
“You all right there?”
“Yes. I’m fine.”
We’re so close I can practically feel his breath on my lips, the familiar jolt of electricity igniting between us. He sets me upright, but before I can reach for the door handle into the kitchen, Colt steps in front of me, his brown eyes searching mine.
“Hallie.” His voice is low and gruff. “Why did you bid on Nate and Gentry at the auction, Hallie?”
“Isn’t that what auctions are for, Colt? Donating money to a good cause?” Deflection at its finest.
“Why not me?”
The question knocks the breath right out of me. “I don’t know.”
“It should’ve been you as my date, not Liz. We both know Gentry’s in love with Brooke—has been since the first grade. You have no chance with him.”
I laugh softly. “You think I’m interested in Gentry?”
“Well, aren’t you? I’ve seen the way you watch him. The way you danced at the auction.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Oh yeah.”
And then our lips crash together in a fiery explosion of heat right behind the nursing home.
Colt drops the cooler with a resounding thud, his hands sliding into my hair, fingers threading through the strands.
His body presses against mine full of heat, hunger, and want, all tangled together.
Our lips collide, raw, unrestrained, a battle for control.
His tongue teases mine, warm and delicious, and I feel the spark all the way down to my core.
“You taste so fucking good, Cupcake,” he murmurs, his breath ragged between kisses.
My hands grip his back, twisting his t-shirt, pulling it loose from his jeans. He lets out a low, wolfish sound that vibrates against my lips. His scent, musk and pine and something wholly him, wraps around me, baking the moment into memory.
Then the door to the kitchen swings open.
We jump apart like guilty teens just as an employee steps through, hauling two large trash bags toward the dumpster.
Colt bites his lip, shoving his hands into his back pockets, trying to look casual but failing as my pulse races.
My face burns at getting caught, although the employee has headphones in and doesn’t seem to notice us.
“Let’s go get that Gatorade,” he says.
“Yep.” My answer comes too fast, and I follow him inside as if we hadn’t just been caught making out behind the senior center.
Hours later, I’m in bed, reading, when my phone lights up on the nightstand. Curious who would text after nine, I reach for it.
Unknown: Hi, Cupcake. Want to wish you the best dreams. Or at least a good night’s sleep.
Me: How did you get my number?
Colt: Swiped it off Brooke’s phone.
Me: Clever.
Colt: Yep. Thought so.
A smile tugs at my lips.
Colt: Impressive skills with the nail gun today, Cupcake.
Me: Thank you. I know my way around some tools.
Colt: I’ll just bet you do.
I can practically hear the grin in his voice.
Colt: So, you’re not interested in Gentry at all?
Me: You have to ask after that kiss behind the nursing home? Gentry’s a good friend, but I’d never go after someone my best friend’s interested in. Those two need to figure their stuff out.
I hesitate before sending my next text, staring at the screen for longer than I should. Because the truth is, they aren’t the only ones who need to figure things out.
Me: I think Brooke’s just now realizing how important he is to her. I just hope it’s not too late.
Colt: Cupcake. Men are simple.
The words linger long after the screen goes dark. It doesn’t seem like Colt Sawyer is simple at all.