Chapter 15
15
William Andino
I ’m just finishing the breakfast dishes when my phone rings on the counter. Drying my hands with a tea towel, I reach for it, smiling when I see Trish’s name flash on the screen. I hit accept, bringing the phone up to my ear.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Will.” Her voice is as cheerful as always. “How’s it going?”
“Oh, not too bad,” I murmur as I close the door to the dishwasher and turn it on. “Just finishing up some cleaning around the house. How’re you guys over here?”
“Good, good,” she states. “Look, I whipped up some homemade cinnamon rolls this morning. I’ve got a ton left over, and I know how much you enjoy them. Can I drop some off with you?”
Despite having eaten not even an hour ago, my stomach rumbles at the thought of devouring a couple of Trish’s famous cinnamon rolls. “Of course, you can,” I say with a chuckle. “I know what I’m having for lunch now. ”
She laughs. “Wonderful. I’m packaging them up now, and I’ll send Colt over in a bit.”
“Colt?” As soon as his name leaves my lips, I realize how panicked it sounded, so I add, “I didn’t realize he was able to drive again.”
“Yeah, now that he doesn’t have to wear the sling, he’s cleared to drive. His physical therapist gave the okay at their last appointment. Isn’t that nice?”
Shit. “Uh, yeah, that’s awesome. Bet he’s thrilled.”
“He is,” Trish confirms. “Between you and me, I think he’s going a little stir crazy being here all the time.”
“Yeah, I’d imagine,” I murmur, rubbing the back of my neck.
“Anyway, I won’t keep you. Colt should be by within the hour with those goodies. I hope you enjoy.” The smile is evident in her voice, and it brings one to my own lips.
“Thank you, Trish. You spoil me.”
Hanging up, I toss the phone onto the counter and pinch the bridge of my nose. The last thing I need is Colt in my house after our tense lunch yesterday after the clinic. I saw a side of him that I haven’t seen before. Sure, the night we hooked up, he was confident and sure of himself, but yesterday was… different. He was cocky and focused and, if I’m being honest, it turned me on a little. Seeing his eyes darken and narrow as they took me in. The way his voice was deep and low as he told me I wasn’t the boss. It reminded me of the way he took control that night we hooked up, but times ten. I’m not used to being treated like that, and I hate how much my body seems very into it.
I’m not some big, rough, dominant man by any means, but with all my sexual partners in the past, I have been the one more in control, and I’ve always preferred that. It worked with the dynamic I had between them. With Colt, though, he throws me off my axis. He makes me question my sanity, and I’m afraid the longer I’m around him, the more he’s going to break down those walls. What happened before cannot happen again, yet I find myself imagining what it would be like if we did.
I’m startled out of the lewd fantasy playing in my mind when my phone buzzes on the counter. I notice a text from an unknown number. Swiping to unlock, I freeze when I read the message.
Unknown: Hey, Doc. My mom gave me your number so I could let you know I’m on my way. See you soon. ;)
Dammit. Not bothering with a response, I shove the phone into my pocket and leave the kitchen. Bounding up the stairs, I hang a right into the bathroom, locking myself inside as I stare at my own reflection. My hair is a mess, I haven’t done anything to it since I woke up. Turning on the faucet, I run my hand underneath it before bringing it up to my hair, trying to tame the unruly cowlick. Once I’ve gotten my hair a little damp and mostly flat, I lather some product in my hands, running my fingers through and coating the strands.
Then I’m reaching for my toothbrush, questioning why I’m going through all this trouble. I shouldn’t give a shit what I look like in front of Colt, but the delusional part of my brain tells me that I’d do this regardless of who was coming over. I don’t want anybody seeing me unkempt.
Yeah, let’s go with that.
I stroll down the hall to my bedroom, needing to change out of my plaid pajama pants. I find a pair of black athletic pants and slip them on. Reaching behind me and pulling my sleep shirt over my head, I switch it out for a clean Andino Family Medicine shirt instead. That’ll have to be good enough, because he should be here any minute. The Bishops don’t live that far from here, and he did say he was on his way when the text came through.
Back downstairs, I find myself pacing back and forth in the kitchen, my heart racing a mile a minute. What the hell is wrong with me, and how does he have this kind of pull over me? Needing something to do, I put on a pot of coffee. Because that’s exactly what I need right now, more caffeine. As soon as I start the machine, a knock sounds at the door, and a shiver races down my spine.
I blow out a deep breath and pad across the floor, unlocking and opening the front door. Colt’s standing on the other side, a rather large tray covered with aluminum foil in his hands. His black hat is turned backwards, and he’s wearing his signature smirk as our gaze connects.
“Howdy.”
“Hello, Colt.” Stepping to the side, I gesture with my arm. “Come on in.”
Walking past me, he pauses and murmurs over his shoulder, “You smell delicious, Doc.”
I flex my jaw as I close the door. Ignoring the compliment entirely, I say, “Kitchen is to the left. You can set the tray down on the counter.”
“Was that the door?” my dad asks as he appears in the hallway. He and Winnie have been out back most of the morning.
“Yeah, Dad.” My blood pressure is rising by the second. “Colt’s here, dropping off some of Trish’s homemade cinnamon rolls.”
Coming to a stop in front of the entrance to the kitchen, a wide smile spreads on his face. “Well, hello, Colt. How are you?”
“I’m doing well, Roger,” Colt says, his tone friendly and bright, unlike when he speaks to me. “How’re you doing this fine Sunday morning? ”
“Oh, can’t complain,” my dad replies. “Enjoying the sun and the cool breeze on the porch out back with Winnie. Will made eggs benedict for breakfast.”
Colt’s gaze drags over to mine, that cocky smirk sliding into place again. “I love French toast,” he drawls. “Looks like I’ll be coming over for breakfast next weekend.”
I frown. “Eh, I?—”
I’m cut off mid-sentence by my father. “That’s a wonderful idea! Will always makes entirely too much anyway, and we’d love the company. How about next Saturday?”
“Dad, I don’t think?—”
“I’d love to, Roger.” Humor dances in Colt’s eyes as I’m cut off yet again . “With my injury, I have a lot of downtime, and it can get pretty boring.”
“Oh, I know what that’s like,” my dad murmurs. “Not being injured, of course, but having a lot of downtime. Now that I’m retired, all I’ve got is time on my hands.”
Winnie prances into the kitchen, probably wanting to see what all the fuss is about, and Colt’s eyes light up as he glances down and takes her in. “Oh my gosh. You must be sweet Winnie girl,” he gushes in a baby voice. “Aren’t you just the cutest little girl I have ever seen. Look at you.”
Picking her up, he pets her while she licks everywhere she can, soaking up the attention.
Colt glances up from Winnie to look at my dad. “How’s she adjusting to being here?”
“Very well,” he replies with a nod and a smile. “She’s quite spoiled between the two of us, and I think she’s adjusting just fine.”
“Are you spoiled?” Colt coos, patting Winnie on the butt, something she loves. “Are you a pretty, spoiled girl? ”
“Well, let’s go out onto the back porch,” my dad says, turning to glance at me. “Will, can you heat up some of those cinnamon rolls and bring them outside with some coffee?”
My lips press into a thin line as I glance over at Colt, finding him already looking at me, a faint smirk fixed on his face. “I like cream in my coffee, Doc,” he murmurs, and something about his completely innocent statement sends a lick of flames down my spine.
My dad and Colt don’t bother waiting for confirmation that I’ll act as their server before they stroll through the house side by side. Colt’s still holding Winnie like a baby as they go. For fuck’s sake.
By the time I meet them outside, they’re in the middle of a conversation about the game that was on last night. We all dish up our plates with the now-warm cinnamon rolls, and I have to bite back a groan when I take a bite. It’s so damn good. I need to get this recipe from Trish.
For the most part, I sit back and eat, watching the two of them converse. I don’t know why it’s so surprising to me to see how well they get along. My dad practically has stars in his eyes as he listens to Colt talk rodeo.
“Are you going to compete next season?” he asks.
Colt nods, finishing chewing. “I’m definitely going to try, but I won’t push myself to get back out there before I’m ready.
“Smart man,” my dad murmurs. “What do you got going on to fill your time currently?”
“Honestly, not a whole lot.” Colt huffs out a chuckle. “But now that I can use my arm a little bit more, I’m trying to keep myself busy. I’m volunteering at the free clinic every other Saturday, and then with school starting back up soon at the high school, I’m going to mentor a rodeo club kid like I did last year.”
“Oh, what’s that entail?”
“It’s a lot of teaching them things that I’ve learned, taking them under my wing, building their confidence in the arena. Stuff like that,” Colt explains. “I had a mentor when I was in high school, and I credit a lot of my skill from him. He was an amazing role model, and he made me believe achieving my dreams was possible.”
“Surely, you had the support from your dad too,” I murmur. “To help with confidence and see that it was possible.”
Colt flits his gaze over to me. “Yes and no,” he replies. “I’m sure you can understand what it’s like following in a parent’s footsteps. I never wanted people to think I got to where I am today because I rode my father’s coattails. Yes, Max Bishop was a phenomenal bull rider, and yes, he broke records, but I am more than a prodigal son. From the very beginning, I fought tooth and nail to earn my place in the rodeo world, and it was refreshing and motivating to hear somebody in it tell me I had potential when I was in high school.”
Listening to Colt talk so passionately about this world of his has a newfound respect for him blooming inside of me, because the truth is, I do know what it’s like following in the footsteps of a successful parent. The medical field may be exponentially different from the rodeo scene, but the fear and the doubt are the same. That voice is always there in the very back of your mind telling you that the only reason you got to where you are is because of who your parents are and not any actual talent or skill. Each success, it’s there to tell you that everyone knows you made it because of who you are, and every failure, it’s there to remind you that the world is watching, and this loss is only proving to them what they already know .
So, on some deeper level, unbeknownst to me, I relate to Colt. I respect him for his passion, and I can’t help but think maybe we aren’t that different, after all.
My dad asks Colt a few more random questions about the rodeo and his experience before announcing that he’s tired and going to lie down for an afternoon nap. Winnie goes with him, the same way she does every single day. Afternoon naps are a regular thing with them, like clockwork. Once my dad disappears into the house, a charged silence settles over Colt and I. Suddenly, my pulse is racing and a tingly type of chill rolls through my veins.
One leg crossed over the other, Colt’s hand is wrapped around his ankle, index finger tapping away at the leather of his boot. It’s a rhythmic sound that almost feels in sync with the beat of my erratic heart. We hold eye contact for a moment, neither of us saying a word. It should feel awkward… but it doesn’t. It’s comfortable.
Rubbing a hand over my mouth, I fully take Colt in. From the dark brown hair peeking out from underneath his backwards hat, to the vibrancy of his emerald eyes, and the short, dark scruff that lines his chiseled jaw. His white Marlboro shirt is form fitting, as are the Wranglers that are tucked into his well-worn brown boots. It would look ridiculous on anybody else, but for Colt, it somehow works. He’s all country, unapologetically so. He’s got a pretty face and a witty personality that seem to make up for the fact that he rarely appears to put any effort into his clothes. He regularly looks like he just got finished mucking out horse stalls, and right now is no exception.
“What are you thinking about over there, Doc?” Colt asks with a devilish smirk, and it’s only then I realize he probably thinks I was checking him out .
Obviously, I wasn’t.
“What you said earlier,” I start, clearing my throat. “About following in your father’s footsteps. I can relate.”
His gaze softens. “Figured you might.”
“It’s a big part of why I decided to take the job on the West Coast,” I admit, surprising myself. “To be somewhere where nobody knew Roger Andino; they only knew me and what I brought to the table. I wasn’t a successful doctor because of who my dad was, but because of my skill and my dedication to medicine.”
“Does he know that?” Colt asks, tipping his chin toward the house.
Blowing out a breath, I say, “Maybe. I’ve never outright told him, but I’m sure he gets it. His father was a physician too.”
“Are you glad you did it?” Colt questions. “Moved away.”
I’ve never really thought about it. “Yeah, I think so,” I finally murmur. “It was good for me, and it showed me a lot.”
“You happy to be home again?”
The question hits me right in the chest. “You know what? I am.”
I meet Colt’s gaze, and I can’t decipher the expression on his face. It makes my pulse kick up all over again. And then he mutters two words that effectively knock me off my axis.
“Me too.”
There’s no cockiness in his words. No flirtation, just warmth.
Swallowing thickly, I hold his stare. This moment is electric, and it’s dangerous territory. It would seem everything with Colt is dangerous territory. A road less traveled that I can’t help but want to veer toward despite the logic trying to steer me toward the correct one.
Colt sits up, patting his hands on top of his thighs. “Well, I better get back,” he announces before rising off the chair, and I do the same.
I do the same, even though I feel disappointed for some reason, wanting him to stay. “Thanks for stopping by, and tell your mom thank you for the treats.”
Smirking, Colt takes a step in my direction, and I freeze. The door to inside the house is right behind me, so it makes sense that he’s coming this way, but something about the wild look in his eyes has me halting. It has me frozen in place. This close to him, I catch his scent and wish I couldn’t. Smelling like leather and sandalwood and something else entirely… something sweet, my mouth waters. Eyes dipping down to my mouth, Colt swipes his tongue across his lips, and I have to actively bite back the groan burying itself in my throat.
“I’ll be sure to tell her you said that, Doc .” The sultry lilt to his tone when he hits me with that nickname sends a shiver down my spine. “You have a nice day.”
With that, he brushes past me, and I don’t bother following. I don’t walk him to the door; I can’t. My breath comes out in harsh pants as I try to slow my heart rate. How does Colt have the ability to rile me up so much by doing so little?