Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
COLT
Ihadn't planned to kiss her. That's what I tell myself as I watch Savannah get bombarded by her friend's excited questions. The kiss was just part of selling our story. Making it convincing, like I said we needed to.
But I'm lying to myself.
I kissed her because I wanted to. Because her full lips and wide eyes and the way she said "yes" like she meant it hit me in places I thought were long dead. The taste of her coffee-flavored mouth is still on my tongue, and I already want more.
This is borderline ridiculous. She's the sheriff's daughter. Twelve years my junior. A woman with plans and dreams that don't include an ex-con with a GED and a reputation that makes mothers pull their children to the opposite side of the street.
"You two are so cute together," her friend gushes, grabbing Savannah's hand to examine the ring. "Girl, tell me the truth, that was not fake. How long have y’all been sneaking around? I can't believe you kept this from me."
"It happened fast," Savannah says, her acting impressively smooth despite her still flushed cheeks. She looks to me with those big brown eyes. "Didn't it, baby?"
Baby. The endearment in her mouth does things to me.
"When you know, you know." I move beside her, sliding my arm around her waist like it belongs there. Her body is soft and warm against mine. "Some things you can't fight."
That part isn't acting. I tried to talk myself out of agreeing to this insane plan. Spent all night listing reasons it was a terrible idea. But here I am, playing the besotted fiancé in a coffee shop, already addicted to the way she feels in my arms.
"Wait until your father finds out." Sylvie's eyes widen. "Sheriff Parker is going to lose his mind."
Savannah tenses against me. "He'll just have to accept it."
"Or shoot me," I mutter, only half joking.
Savannah squeezes my hand. "He won't shoot you."
"Try telling him that."
As if summoned by our conversation, the radio on the belt of a deputy at the counter crackles to life. "All units, Sheriff Parker requesting backup at The Grind. Code three."
Code three. Lights and sirens. Because his daughter got engaged.
"Someone called him," Savannah whispers, her fingers tightening around mine.
The deputy, a young guy named Rodriguez who's never given me trouble, eyes us with a mixture of sympathy and amusement. "Congratulations on your engagement," he says, paying for his coffee. "Also, you might want to prepare yourselves."
"How bad?" I ask him.
Rodriguez winces. "He was in the middle of a meeting with the mayor when Mrs. Jenkins called to tell him she just saw his daughter accept a proposal from Colton Reeves."
Savannah's face pales slightly, but her chin lifts with that stubborn determination I'm coming to admire. "We haven't done anything wrong."
"No ma'am, you sure haven't." Rodriguez tips his hat. "But I'd suggest having that conversation somewhere less public than a coffee shop patio."
He has a point. I don't need another public confrontation with Sheriff Parker. Not when I'm trying to improve my reputation.
"We should go," I tell Savannah, keeping my voice steady. "Now."
She nods, grabbing her purse from behind the counter. "Sylvie, cover for me?"
"Are you kidding? And miss the show?" Sylvie grins. "But yes, I'll tell Brian you had a family emergency."
I guide Savannah toward the door with my hand at the small of her back, hyperaware of every inch where our bodies connect. We make it to the parking lot just as the first patrol car rounds the corner, lights flashing.
"My bike or your car?" I ask.
"My car. He's less likely to shoot you in front of witnesses." She points to a sensible blue Honda parked near the back before fishing the keys from her purse.
"I'll drive.” I take the keys from her shaking hand.
She doesn't argue, sliding into the passenger seat while I adjust the driver's seat to accommodate my frame. The engine roars to life just as Sheriff Parker's cruiser screeches into the parking lot.
"Where to?" I ask, backing out quickly.
"My place. Actually, no, your place." She fastens her seatbelt. "We should talk before facing him and he’ll probably check my place first."
I nod and pull onto Main Street, driving at exactly the speed limit. The last thing we need is to give Parker a legitimate reason to pull us over.
"You okay?" I glance at her as we stop at a red light. Her cheeks are flushed, her breathing quick. She looks like a woman running from a killer, not a daughter avoiding her father.
"I'm fine." She twists the ring on her finger, a nervous habit I've already noticed. "Just wondering if this was a mistake."
My chest tightens. "Having second thoughts already?"
"No." She looks up, surprising me with the certainty in her voice. "Not about the arrangement. Just about how we're handling my father."
"We can't avoid him forever."
"I know." She sighs. "I just wanted time to explain properly. On my terms."
"Sometimes life doesn't give us what we want." I turn onto the road leading to my property on the edge of town. "Sometimes we have to make the best of what we get."
She studies my profile. "You sound like you've had practice."
More than she knows. Prison teaches you real quick that control is an illusion. That adaptability is survival.
"I've had my share of adjustments." I pull into the gravel driveway of my house, cutting the engine. "Welcome to my humble abode."
Savannah looks up at the small house with obvious surprise. "This is where you live?"
I follow her gaze, trying to see my home through her eyes. It's nothing special. A craftsman style cottage I've slowly restored over the past two years. The porch needs painting, and the garden has more weeds than flowers, but the bones are good.
"Not up to the sheriff's daughter's standards?" I can't keep the defensive edge from my voice.
"No, I mean, yes." She flushes. "It's beautiful. Just unexpected. I thought you lived above your workshop."
The assumption stings even though it's reasonable. "I'm not quite the caveman your father makes me out to be."
"I never thought you were." She reaches for my hand, the gesture surprisingly natural. "I'm sorry if I sounded judgmental. Your home is lovely."
Her apology soothes the wounded part of me that still bristles at people's assumptions. "Let's go inside. You can judge my interior design skills next."
That draws a genuine laugh from her as we climb out of the car. I lead her up the porch steps, uncomfortably aware that this is the first time I've brought a woman to my home since buying it. The realization makes this feel more intimate than it should.
Inside, the small living room opens to a kitchen with a breakfast bar. Nothing fancy, but clean and functional with personal touches throughout. Metal sculptures I've created. Books on engineering and architecture. Plants thriving on every windowsill.
"You have plants." Savannah sounds genuinely surprised as she touches the leaf of a thriving pothos.
"They clean the air." I shrug, uncomfortable with her scrutiny of my private space. "And they don't talk back."
"It's nice." She moves further into the house, studying the framed photographs on the wall. My brothers and I on a fishing trip. Ridge working with one of his falcons. Jax in his firefighter gear before the accident. "Your family?"
"My brothers." I stand behind her, close enough to smell her perfume but not touching. "Ridge and Jax."
"You look alike." She points to Jax. "Especially you and him."
"Jax is the oldest. Ex wildland firefighter. Now runs a wilderness program for troubled youth." I point to the other photo. "Ridge is the youngest. Works as a hunting guide. Bit of a loner."
"And you're the middle brother." She turns to face me, suddenly very close. "The blacksmith with the bad reputation."
"That's me." I don't back away. "Sure you want to hitch your wagon to mine, Savannah?"
Her eyes drop to my mouth, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. "I made my choice."
The air between us thickens. I want to kiss her again. Want to see if that first explosive connection was a fluke or if the chemistry between us is really as potent as it felt. Her eyes darken as if reading my thoughts, her body swaying slightly toward mine.
A pounding on the door shatters the moment.
"Reeves!" Sheriff Parker's voice carries clearly through the wood. "Open this door right now."
Savannah jumps back like she's been burned, eyes wide. "He followed us here."
"Of course he did." I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "You ready for this?"
She takes a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. "As I'll ever be."
I move to open the door, placing myself between Savannah and her father out of pure instinct. Sheriff Parker stands on my porch, face flushed with anger, one hand resting meaningfully on his sidearm.
"Where is my daughter?" he demands without preamble.
"Right here, Dad." Savannah steps around me, her head high despite the slight tremor in her voice. "And I can explain everything."
"Explain?" His eyes lock on the ring glittering on her finger. "Explain how my daughter is suddenly engaged to the fucking town criminal? Please, do explain that, Savannah."
"Watch your mouth," I warn, my protective instincts flaring. "I haven't been charged with anything in over a decade."
"Colt," Savannah places a restraining hand on my arm. "Let me handle this."
But Sheriff Parker has already pushed past me, entering my home without invitation. "I don't know what kind of game you're playing, Reeves, but it stops now."
I close the door, leaning against it and crossing my arms. "This isn't a game. Savannah and I are getting married."
"The hell you are." Sheriff Parker turns to his daughter. "Get in the car, Savannah. We're leaving."
"I'm twenty-two years old." Savannah's voice is steel wrapped in silk. "I'm not going anywhere."