Chapter 19 #2
I laugh, though if anyone else said go on, git to me like I’m some kind of farm animal being wrangled into a pasture, I’d be mortally offended.
The idea of Collin lifting me up doesn’t sound so bad, actually, but because I have no small need to prove myself capable, I place one foot up onto the oversized tire and manage to hoist myself onto the hood.
Mostly.
“Okay,” I say with a giggle as I lose my footing and end up pancaked halfway on the hood with my legs dangling uselessly behind me. “I might need a little bit of a boost.”
“Um,” Collin says from behind me as I try to wiggle my way further onto his truck. Without a good handhold—the windshield wipers are the only thing I can see to grab and I’m afraid I’d yank one right off—I’m not making much progress. “I don’t really know the best way to do this.”
“Just give me a good shove,” I tell him.
He does. Grabbing me by the upper thighs, he propels me up and forward so fast I barely have time to register the grip of his hands. The blanket moves with me, and I zip right across the hood with a squeal.
Just before I take a nosedive off the other side, Collin catches me by the ankles and stops my forward progress.
Good thing, too, because my face hangs over the edge, staring down at the gravel road. Not a place you want to fall headfirst. Collin pulls me back and gives my ankles a squeeze before letting me go.
A little too quickly if you ask me.
“Sorry!” he says. “I didn’t mean to launch you.”
“It’s fine. You clearly don’t know your own strength.” I roll over, sitting up just in time to see Collin flatten one palm on the hood, push off that one arm, and swing himself up on the truck like some kind of action movie star. “Show off,” I add.
His grin is half-cocky and half-teasing. “I’m not showing off—I just don’t know my own strength.”
Together we straighten the blanket as much as possible while we’re both on top of it, then settle back against the windshield.
The pillows behind us make it surprisingly comfortable and we end up side by side, arms and thighs touching, faces tipped toward a sky pricked with stars.
I don’t know what kind of insects we’re hearing, but I’m suddenly aware of their sounds—a muted, simmering symphony of mood music.
A comfortable quiet settles between us, and I almost relax into the moment.
But then, of course, my overactive brain quickly spirals. I want to know if Collin still wants to practice. I thought that’s why we were coming out here—so our first kiss wouldn’t be in the bathroom.
I want to ask if we could just forget about the whole faking thing and the idea of practicing and just date, just kiss. For real.
I can’t help but think about where our arms are touching and how close our hands are and what Collin might do if I just reached over and laced our fingers together.
I’m too much of a coward to find out, but I do inch my hand slightly closer to his until our pinkies are just barely brushing.
And then, because my still-spiraling thoughts are paranoid that Collin will notice and see through my not-so-subtle move, I blurt out a question.
“Are you excited about Winnie and James’s surprise wedding?”
He lifts his chin, searching the sky for stars. “I am.”
“But?”
For a long moment, he’s quiet. Thinking. Then, he turns to meet my gaze. “I’ve been envious of both of my brothers’ relationships. How happy they are. It’s an ugly thing, being happy for them both but also … jealous.”
I’m surprised by his honesty. But I appreciate it.
I lean closer, wiggling until he slides an arm under my neck. Sighing, I drop my head on his shoulder. I can’t meet his gaze like this, but I like the warm comfort of his shoulder under my cheek. “I’ve often felt jealous of Chase.”
I don’t tell him that it’s about more than just his relationship with Harper. It’s all of it—moving away, starting over, escaping our dad. I should tell Collin. I almost have on several occasions. But I still find myself holding back.
Instead, I say, “So, do you come here often?”
Only when Collin laughs do I realize how it sounded. “Oh, my gosh—I didn’t mean it like a pick-up line!”
“You sure about that?”
“Yes. I’m actually wondering. You’ve brought me here—twice. And why is your car stocked with all the essentials: a candle, blanket, and pillows?”
“If I had the essentials, I’d also have a cooler full of drinks and some snacks,” Collin said.
“A citronella candle is always a good idea—this is Texas. Everything is bigger, including the mosquitoes. The blanket and pillows were from my apartment in Austin. I just hadn’t brought them up to the loft yet. ”
“Doesn’t answer my most important question. What’s so special about this place that you keep bringing me here?”
He doesn’t answer right away, and I force myself to wait rather than blurt out other questions. Like: have you brought any other women out here? Who? When?
“This is actually only the third time I’ve been here,” he says. “The first time was with my dad the night you went to Wolf’s bar.”
I groan. “Could we not talk about that night ever again, please?”
Collin grins. “Sorry. You can try to forget it, but I won’t. Anyway, Tank brought me out here just before we got reports of a certain damsel in need of a rescue.”
He pauses again, while I die a little more of embarrassment, thinking of the cinnamon whisky and the arm wrestling and the apparent singing I did.
But then I think about the way Collin took such good care of me: rubbing my sore feet, making sure I had enough water, putting me to bed.
My affection for him is a warm ember, glowing in my chest.
“So, your dad brought you here. Now you’re bringing me here. What’s so special about this field? Or this road? Not that it’s not … nice.”
He doesn’t answer right away, then says, “My dad bought this field for me.”
I glance out at the field, which stretches to the distant trees and includes my favorite cow and a dozen or so others, all with the same funny coloring. Now, I’m seeing it differently. “Seriously? You own this field?”
“I haven’t seen the title or anything, but apparently.”
“How many acres is it?”
“Twenty-three.”
“Is it a full-on farm or just a field?”
“I think it’s just a field. There aren’t any structures on it that I know of. Right now it’s being leased for grazing purposes. Obviously.”
I sit up, glancing over where my cow friend is watching us with a forlorn expression. “What about the cows? Are they included?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Well, that’s too bad. Because I’m getting pretty attached to Cookie.”
“Cookie? You named it Cookie?”
“Him. And yes. Because he looks like an Oreo.”
“Why not name him Oreo?”
“Because now he’s not tied down to a specific brand identity.”
Collin leans my way, one eyebrow arched. “You are truly an interesting woman, Molly Douglas.”
Interesting isn’t bad. It’s also not gorgeous or sexy or irresistible, but I guess I’ll take it.
“Why did your dad buy you a field?” I ask, shifting a little so I’m mirroring his position, leaning on my side facing him.
I don’t realize how intimate this will be, how close our faces will be, until it’s too late to move back. My heart picks up its pace, and I try to keep my face expressionless. But this new angle and proximity to Collin makes it a true test of my will.
He sighs, dragging a hand through his dark hair and leaving it mussed. “When I started the gym, it was meant to be my future. Not just my career, but my dream. I wanted to help high-level athletes reach their full potential—that was the idea, anyway.”
He’s quiet for a moment, his gaze somewhere over my shoulder, as though searching for the right words. Or an explanation for how his dream must have gone off the rails.
“And it ended up being just a regular old gym with a smoothie bar in the lobby,” he finally says.
“But regular old gyms still help people, right?” I ask gently. I’m honestly trying to understand. From the little I’ve picked up, the gym has done well. Other than the Liza-induced hate comments, the social following for his gym is big. In the few videos I saw, the place was packed.
Most people would count that as a success. It’s clear that Collin doesn’t.
“It got away from me,” Collin says. “Not just the gym, but what I wanted. People came not for exceptional training, but to be seen. Or to meet athletes. Maybe because of me or my family name. It was more about pageantry than substance.”
“I want to tell you that sucks—because it does—but that doesn’t seem like enough to say. I’m sorry, Collin.”
“Thank you. I felt better once I realized it and was able to admit I wasn’t doing what I wanted anymore. Then, everything happened with my ex. She stole money but made it sound like I sexually harassed her. Kind of sours the whole thing for me. I’ll feel better when it’s off my hands.”
Finding the boldness I couldn’t a few minutes ago, I reach over and take his hand. He blinks in surprise, then slides his fingers between mine. His grip is firm and sure.
The air between us is shifting, a tension rising that I both want to lean into and run away from.
“Now I know about the gym. What about this field?” I prompt. “Why did your dad buy it for you?”
“Tank said it’s for me to build my new dream. My legacy. Whatever that is.”
A pang of something ugly that feels like jealousy twists in my gut. “Wow. Your dad is really something.”
Collin smiles. “He is. Now I just need to figure out what my legacy is, and how to create something to make my family proud this time.”
“Your family is already plenty proud,” I say, but he shakes his head.
“I should get enough to pay them back. But they were all as invested in the gym—in me—as I was. And it failed. I failed.”
I squeeze his fingers. “Or maybe it shifted into something different because your dream changed too.”
He thinks about this. “Maybe.”
“And as close as your family is, as wonderful and supportive—”
“Let’s not forget nosy and invasive,” he interrupts.