Building Blocks
LAINEY
Despite the boost of professional confidence Beck and Mollie and Cash gave me, it still takes me three whole days to work up the courage to text Colton.
It doesn’t help that I don’t actually see Colton at all because I’m holed up in my apartment, working on my Double U Ranch presentation. The ideas are flowing, and I’ve learned you have to strike while the iron is hot.
LAINEY: Hey there, it’s Lainey Brown. Any chance I could come visit you and Dean for a bit one night this week? I have something for y’all.
My stomach dips as I type that last word. I consider erasing it. Am I stupid to think Colton will want to hang out with me and Dean? Do they not like people interrupting their “just the two of us” vibe? I imagine the week is super busy with school and work.
Then again, they did bring me out for a ride the other day. Colton confided in me. Made sure I was okay.
Hit him up, girl. Mollie and Cash didn’t find what they were looking for by playing it safe.
I hit Send. The hate sex isn’t gonna happen on its own, right?
To my very great surprise, Colton responds less than a minute later.
COLTON WALLACE
I know who you are
LAINEY brOWN
Lemme guess. Beck gave you my number too?
COLTON WALLACE
Apparently only because he gave you mine
LAINEY brOWN
What a presumptuous asshole!
COLTON WALLACE
And now you’re gonna say he takes after me
LAINEY brOWN
Yes.
But really, I adore your brother
COLTON WALLACE
Same, cowgirl
LAINEY brOWN
I’m a cowgirl now?
COLTON WALLACE
We gotta get you a hat
LAINEY brOWN
Maybe that will keep me from falling out of the saddle again.
COLTON WALLACE
If memory serves, you asked to get off
LAINEY brOWN
You went there
COLTON WALLACE
Ma’am I always go there
LAINEY brOWN
Stay on topic pls.
COLTON WALLACE
We’re home tomorrow night if you wanna swing by. Planning to make short ribs. Dean is gonna lose his shit when he sees you. My place is about a half mile from Mom and Dad’s
You take the main road but turn right instead of left when you hit the fork. We’re the first house on the left
Gotta run, heading to Dean’s classroom in a bit to help out teachers in the workroom. Room parent duties
LAINEY brOWN
Wait you’re room parent?
COLTON WALLACE
Of course I’m room parent. Why does that surprise you?
LAINEY brOWN
You know why
COLTON WALLACE
See you tomorrow. Just bring yourself.
I’m buzzing with all the things—excitement, anticipation, nerves—when I pull up to his house later the next evening.
As I climb out of my car, the breath leaves my lungs when I take in the modern A-frame cottage set inside a stand of enormous, gnarled oak trees.
The front yard is littered with kid stuff: a bicycle with training wheels, another bicycle without them.
There’s an adorable mini ATV parked on the paved pathway leading to the front door, along with a three-wheeled scooter.
I smile when I see the handful of small, painted pumpkins lined up beside the door. I take a deep inhale, and the smell of woodsmoke and something else, something savory, fills my head.
Dinner. Has to be.
Walking up the front steps, I notice how well cared for the house is. The painted siding is pristine, and the rocking chairs on the front porch gleam in the fading light. Not so much as a speck of dust or pollen in sight.
The man who lives here loves this house. I wonder if he lived here with his wife, but the house looks new.
My hand shakes as I raise it to knock on the door. I smile at the sound of little feet running to greet me.
Dean yanks open the door and gives me a big, mostly toothless smile. “Miss Lainey! You came! Oh my goodness, did you bring that LEGO set for me?” He points to the box I have tucked underneath my arm.
He is so stinking cute, I can’t help but smile.
“I sure did. I know Halloween is over, but I’m still in the spirit and hoped you might be too?” I hold out the box.
He takes it, his whole face lighting up. “I love Halloween all year long! I was a zombie football player.”
“Spooky!”
“I know. Dad! Dad, come look! Lainey brought a Halloween LEGO set!”
A droopy-looking dog approaches, his enormous head bobbing as he slowly lumbers our way.
Then I look up, and there he is.
Colton. Barefoot. He’s wiping his hands on a colorful kitchen towel, which he tosses over his shoulder.
He’s wearing sweats, a broken-in Texas Rangers T-shirt, and that fucking squint, the one that has my heart leaping into my throat.
Cowboy Colton is handsome. But Cozy Colton? He is downright hot. His scruff is overgrown. His biceps strain against the sleeves of his shirt. And his hair—it’s a little wet, like he just got out of the shower.
He smells like he just got out of the shower, a clean woodsiness that fits him perfectly. Body wash. Deodorant. Aftershave.
Yum.
His gaze moves down my body before landing on his son.
“A Halloween LEGO set?” Colton’s eyes go wide before moving back to me. “How did Miss Lainey know that we have all the LEGO sets except the Halloween ones?”
The dog is now at Colton’s feet, wagging its tail.
“Because I’m smart like that.” I manage a grin despite the wobble in my knees. “Hey, Colton.”
“Hi, Dallas.” He opens the door a little wider, and the dog slips out. “This is Elvis. He’s friendly, but he does drool an absurd amount.”
I bend down to pet him. “Hey, Elvis. I like your name.”
“It’s because Mimi and Pawpaw love Elvis.” Dean is still staring at the box of LEGO bricks. “I do too. Dad let me name him.”
“That was awful nice of your dad.”
Dean lifts a shoulder. “He’s cool sometimes. C’mon, Lainey. Let’s go put this together. Do you drink beer?”
Standing, I laugh. “I do, but I hope you don’t.”
“My dad lets me have sips of his sometimes, but I think it’s gross. He’s drinking one right now.”
Colton angles his body to make room for me to come inside. “Father of the year right here.”
“Sips don’t count.” I’m painfully self-aware as I slip through the door into the warmth of the house. The savory smells of rosemary and garlic fill my head, making my stomach grumble. It’s rich and herbaceous all at once. “Wow. The short ribs smell delicious.”
“Course they do. I made them.”
I blink. “From scratch.”
“You think I’m one to take shortcuts?” He lifts a brow. “Of course I made ’em from scratch.”
So Colton doesn’t just cook. He cooks. No half-assed frozen dinners for him and Dean. He’s a true foodie, making his meals from scratch despite the very real time squeeze I imagine he faces every day.
The surprise isn’t that the man loves to eat—he devoured the food Paige made for Sunday supper the other week. He also offered to, ahem, eat me. But that’s neither here nor there.
The surprise is that he’s willing to put in the work to make the food he loves to eat. Dad, my brothers, even my uncles—to my knowledge, none of them have ever lifted a finger in the kitchen.
I find it deeply sexy that Colton is the opposite.
The man is full of surprises, I’ll give him that.
“Always so humble.”
“I’m many things, Dallas, but humble ain’t one of ’em.”
Colton’s gaze moves over my face. I can’t read his expression, which makes me doubly nervous. His invitation over text was friendly enough, but now I can’t tell how he feels about me being here.
“You have time to make short ribs on a weekday?” I sound stupidly breathless even to my own ears.
“Crock-Pot to the rescue. Can I get you a beer?”
The deep rumble of his voice draws my nipples to overly sensitive points.
“I’d love one, thanks.”
He turns and heads down the short hallway that leads to the family room, which opens onto the kitchen at the back of the house.
It’s a huge space, with soaring ceilings and a limestone fireplace where flames crackle and pop.
Music plays from a speaker on the counter beside the stove. The Lumineers, I think?
I’m pleasantly surprised by how neat and comfortable and homey the place is. I can only imagine the chaos that would ensue if my mom was ever unable to take care of our house. Dad would be helpless.
But Colton? He’s calm and confident as he opens the fridge and pulls out a longneck of Shiner Bock. The muscles in his forearm flex as he pops off the top, then slips the beer into a koozie.
A goddamn koozie. Because apparently the man thinks of everything.
I’m out at sea here. Are we enemies? Have we suddenly become friends overnight? But friends don’t turn me on the way Colton does.
He holds out the beer to me over the kitchen counter. Beside him rests a tray of roasted vegetables—carrots, potatoes, parsnips—that appears to have been recently plucked from the oven. The vegetables smell like rosemary and look like heaven.
I take the Shiner, an electric charge bolting through me when our fingertips brush. “Nothing beats a Shiner after a long day. Thank you.”
He blinks, like he’s surprised by the statement.
“What?” I ask.
“Didn’t take you for a Shiner kinda girl. Or a beer girl in general, if I’m being honest.”
I tip back my bottle and take a long, hard pull. It’s ice cold and absolutely delicious. “Is that a challenge? I know you like those.”
“You and Dean.” His Adam’s apple bobs. “Brains like sponges. Y’all remember everything.”
Swallowing, I sigh. “If you had this in cans and there weren’t children present, I’d ask you to shotgun one with me.”
He lets out a soft chuckle. “Can’t remember the last time I shotgunned a beer.”
“Why would you shoot a beer with a gun?” Dean screws up his face. “That sounds stupid.”
Colton and I laugh.
“It is stupid,” Colton replies, holding the mouth of his beer to his lips. “And kinda fun.”
“In a sloppy way, yes.” I grin. “I was a pro in college.”
Colton lifts a brow as he drinks. “You? Sloppy? I don’t buy it.”
“Every saint has a past,” I say.
His eyes darken. “Every sinner has a future.”
My heart skips a beat. “Since when are you an Oscar Wilde fan?”
“Since we read The Picture of Dorian Gray senior year in high school.”
I sip my beer, trying to make sense of this breaking news. Is Colton a cowboy with an attitude problem and good taste in literature?
Does such a being exist?