Chapter 43 Colt
Colt
Holy shit.
Never mind a wedding dress; I want to marry Whit in this stunning forest-green dress that sweeps across the grass and skims over her delicious curves.
The neckline leaves just enough to the imagination to be classy; thankfully I have a damn good imagination.
It doesn’t take much to picture slipping my hand beneath the fabric and feeling her nipple harden against my palm while I kiss her.
I spent the entire ceremony in agony over only being able to see a small fraction of her, thanks to her dad blocking my view.
I telepathically told him to scooch back, but either my messages didn’t go through, or they pissed him off, because the guy didn’t give me a single inch.
Regardless, I didn’t need confirmation to know she’s the most gorgeous person here.
She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, period.
And I probably shouldn’t say that, considering we’re at a wedding, and all eyes should be on Blair. But I’m confident Denny would rather me eyeball his wife’s sister over his wife.
It was worth only having a partial view, because now I get my first real look at her with the sun filtering through autumn leaves and a slight breeze catching her hair…which I’m only now realizing has pink tips.
Her eyes bounce around like she’s searching for something, and when they land on me, she bites her bottom lip. With a quick course correction, she’s heading straight for me.
“Hey, Mama,” I call out, earning the smile I’ve been impatiently waiting all day for.
“Wow, wearing a buttoned shirt for the second time in less than two weeks,” she teases, strolling across the gravel to where I’m leaning against the front porch steps of the big house. “Let me guess—underneath the fancy exterior is a little bit of hootin’ and hollerin’?”
“Somebody has to be ready to get the party started at a moment’s notice.”
“Oh, thank God. Something about the tequila shots they handed everybody when we got here screamed ‘dull wedding reception.’ I had to drink two of them, because somehow my mom got her hands on one.”
“In that case, it might be time for some hootin’ and hollerin’ sooner than I thought.” I start unbuttoning my shirt, and she places her slender, soft fingers on my hand to stop me.
“Save it for later. You look really handsome right now.”
In that case, I’ll stay buttoned-up and dapper as fuck all night long.
“Damn it, you always beat me to the compliments.” I groan. “God, you look…I would give anything to be your date tonight, because you’re the most gorgeous woman here and somehow that’s still the least interesting thing about you.”
A blush that matches her hair blooms across her cheeks, and she hugs her arms around herself. “I might beat you to it, but yours are always better.”
Nothing is better than knowing the woman of my dreams notices me. She could compliment my choice in socks (they have kiwis on them and deserve to be noticed) or the fact that I trimmed my mustache today, and I’d be over the fucking moon. Whit calling me handsome? Put that on my tombstone.
“Did you get fired over the pink hair?”
“They don’t know. I’ve been hiding it in meetings.” She holds a handful in front of her, fanning out the pink ends to make a paintbrush. “Do you like it?”
“I love it.” And you. “It suits you.”
The rosiness in her cheeks descends to her neck and chest. And right when she opens her mouth to reply, Cassidy calls her name from the front door of the house.
“Sorry, wedding responsibilities are calling.” Taking one step, Whit smiles at me. “Thank you for all the compliments.”
“Save me a dance tonight?”
“I’d love to.”
I watch her walk away, already missing the flutter my heart makes when she talks to me. She leaves behind the faint smell of her perfume, and I breathe as deeply as I can.
After gripping the stair banister for a moment to regain composure, I head for the cowboys hovering around coolers filled with beer.
Cracking open a cold can, I move toward Red. He’s one of the only guys here who will understand what I’m going through.
“Shit, I got it bad for that girl.” My body falls rag-doll limp into a lawn chair.
Red clears his throat.
“Love. That’s what this is, I think. I love her. She’s making me lose my damn mind though.”
Red’s elbow drills into my rib cage, making me yelp. Shaking his head, he flattens himself against the seatback.
And I realize my big, epic fuckup.
Jonas slurps root beer through a swirly straw, staring wide-eyed in my direction.
“Oh, hey dude, didn’t see you there. That wasn’t too bad of a wedding, eh? I mean…as far as weddings go and all. The party’s gonna be better though—lots of pop, cake…”
“Are you talking about my mom?”
Red smacks the tops of his thighs and rises from his chair. “Well, I’m gonna go check on the baby.”
Traitor.
Now it’s Jonas and me and this empty black folding chair between us. There’s a ringing in my right ear, and the drum of my racing heart pounds throughout my skull. I tug at my earlobe, partially in an attempt to end the high-pitched tone and partially to make it seem as though I didn’t hear him.
“You were talking about Mom, weren’t you?”
“Well…um.” My hardened hand rubs at the back of my neck. “Would you be mad if I was?”
He shrugs, staring past me. “I kinda knew it already.”
“Oh yeah?” I raise an eyebrow. I’d love to know exactly how he knew it.
“I’m almost eleven. I know what it looks like when a girl looks at a guy like she’s in luuurve.
” I swear to God, he says the word love like it’s the most embarrassing thing to leave his lips, complete with the matching annoyed eye roll and dramatic flick of his wrist. “That’s how my mom looks at you. And how you look at her.”
Okay, so maybe we weren’t as stealthy as we thought.
“How do I look at her?”
“Like that stupid emoji with the heart eyes.” He bats his eyelashes at me and makes ridiculous kissy lips. They loudly smack together. Of all the reactions Whit expected from Jonas when he found out about us, I don’t think she anticipated him mocking me.
I laugh. “Is that supposed to be me?”
“Yeah, bro.” He takes a long sip through his straw.
“Are you…okay with me having a crush on your mom? Maybe taking her on some dates?” I narrow my eyes, half-expecting this kid to suddenly get a stomachache on the spot.
He ponders it for a second. “Would that make you my stepdad?”
Jonas’s question carries a teasing undertone, but there’s something behind it. Hope. Comfort. Trust. It hits me square in the chest, knocking the wind from my lungs.
I don’t know what the correct way to handle that question is. But I know the answer.
“I’d be really damn lucky if it worked out that way someday.”
Catching the seriousness in my tone, he presses his lips tight together and stares at me. Truth be told, I’m not sure I’ll survive in a family with him and Whit. That searching, piercing, pillaging stare of theirs makes my guts twist.
I quickly add, “I mean…if that’s something you wanted. I’m not trying to take your dad’s place or make you uncomfortable.”
“You don’t make her cry like he does.”
I flinch against the blow of his words. “He makes her cry?”
“All the time.” His shoulders slope down. “I make her cry a lot, too. So…it’s good you don’t.”
“Buddy, she’s only crying over you because moms are always worrying about their kids.” I reach across the empty space between us to squeeze his skinny shoulder. “Your mom deserves good things because she’s a great mom. And I want to make her smile every single day, if you’ll let me.”
“It’s up to me?” A mischievous little grin pops up, and my palms reflexively sweat.
“I really like your mom, and think I can do a pretty good job of making her happy…but you’re the man of the house, so I’ll respect your wishes if you’re really against it.”
Maybe it’s a stupid idea to leave it up to a preteen boy who’s too awkward and goofy to even say the word love. I’m not even sure what I’ll do if he tells me to forget about ever dating Whit. Probably bribe him with more Betty time.
I give Jonas my best attempt at an earnest expression, hoping to seep through the cracks in his hard-earned armor. I want Whit to love me, but gaining his trust and love means just as much—if not more.
“You’ll still play video games with me, even if you and Mom are in luuurve, right?”
I can’t help but chuckle, and I give him a slight nod. “Hell yeah. We gotta get some extra practice in, anyway. It’s the only way we’re beating her at the racing game.”
“Oh, that’s true. You should come over tomorrow. Bring candy and we can have pizza again.”
“Before we go making any big plans, I should probably make sure your mom likes me, too.”
“She does.” He slurps the last of his drink, oblivious to the way his simple observation is sending my heart into a lurch. “If you’re her boyfriend, you’ll be around more, right?”
“I’d be around as much as you two let me. I like hanging out with you guys.”
“If you break her heart, I’m gonna break your nose…so you know.” He pounds a fist against his empty palm in the most nonthreatening threat of violence ever. “Break your nose and keep your dog.”
With a roar of laughter, I look over at my favorite little menace. “Holding Betty over my head like that? That’s evil, dude.”
Good thing I have no intentions of breaking Whit’s heart.
My chest feels fuller than it has in a long time.
I’ve been confronting my feelings for weeks, reckoning with the idea of Jonas being the closest I’d come to a kid of my own.
He’ll never be fully mine, whether his dad ever bucks up or not.
And I realized that not only am I okay with that, I can’t imagine a family that doesn’t involve them.
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