Chapter 6 - Boone
I take the coldest shower of my life, and it does absolutely nothing to help.
My cock is still hard. My mind is still full of images I shouldn't have. Nicole standing at my window in my flannel, the fabric barely covering her ass. Nicole with her short blonde hair messy from sleep. Nicole looking at me like she wants something she won't ask for.
Or maybe I'm imagining that last part. Projecting my own desperate need onto her because the alternative, that she feels nothing, is unbearable.
I scrub myself roughly, trying to wash away the sweat and the want. The water runs cold over my overheated skin, but it doesn't touch the heat pooling in my gut. Doesn't ease the ache in my balls. Doesn't make me stop thinking about her.
She was watching me from the window. I saw her silhouette, saw the way she jumped back when I turned toward the cottage. She was watching me ride, and I don't know what that means but I can't stop thinking about it.
I can't stop imagining her looking at me the way I look at her when she's not paying attention. Can't stop hoping that maybe, just maybe, I'm not alone in this. But even if she does feel something, it doesn't change anything. She wants to leave. I'm staying. End of story.
I finish showering and dry off, pulling on clean jeans and a faded flannel shirt. My knuckles are still split from punching Jason, the bruises starting to purple. Worth it. I'd do it again in a heartbeat.
When I emerge, the smell of coffee hits me.
Nicole's in the kitchen, wearing my clothes, looking like she belongs here.
The morning light streaming through the windows makes her glow.
It turns her blonde hair almost golden, highlights the curves I'm trying so hard not to notice, makes her absolutely fucking radiant.
She's beautiful. Has always been beautiful. But standing in my kitchen, in my clothes, bathed in sunlight? She's devastating.
I want her so badly I can barely think straight.
"Morning," I manage.
"Morning. Coffee's ready."
"Thanks." I pour myself a cup and lean against the counter. "Sleep okay?"
"Fine." She's lying. I can tell. "You?"
"Well enough." Also lying.
We're both liars, standing in my kitchen drinking coffee, pretending last night didn't change something fundamental between us.
"I was thinking," she starts, not meeting my eyes. "I should probably head home soon. Get my car, face reality, all that fun stuff."
"You don't have to rush."
"I know. But I can't hide here forever."
*Yes, you can.* "Whenever you're ready. No pressure."
She nods, sipping her coffee. The flannel has slipped off her shoulder again, showing smooth skin I want to taste. I force my eyes back to my cup.
"I should probably change first," she continues. "Into my actual clothes. These are comfortable but—"
The front door slams open.
We both jump. Coffee sloshes over the rim of my cup.
"WHERE THE FUCK IS HE?" Colt's voice booms through the cottage, loud enough to wake the dead. "I'M GONNA KILL HIM! I'M GONNA FUCKING MURDER HIM!"
Shit.
My little brother storms into the kitchen, and he looks like hell. His hair is sticking up in every direction, his eyes are bloodshot, and he's clearly still half-drunk from whatever he did last night. But there's murder in his eyes.
"Colt—" I start.
"Don't." He cuts me off, pointing at me with a shaking hand. "Don't tell me to calm down. Don't tell me it's handled. I got six texts this morning from people at that party. Six! Saying Jason tried to—" His voice cracks. "Saying he tried to force himself on Nikky."
Nicole sets down her coffee cup. "Colt, I'm fine."
"You're FINE?" He whirls on her. "You locked yourself in a bathroom because some piece of shit wouldn't take no for an answer, and you're FINE?"
"Boone got there in time. Nothing happened."
"Nothing—" Colt's face goes red. "He TRIED. That's enough. I'm going to his house right now and I'm going to beat him so badly his own mother won't recognize him."
"No, you're not." I set down my own cup and step between them. "You're not doing anything stupid that'll land you in jail."
"Get out of my way, Boone."
"No."
"I SAID GET OUT OF MY WAY!"
"And I said no." I plant my feet. "You're not thinking straight. You're hungover and pissed off and I get it, but you're not going anywhere near Jason."
"The fuck I'm not! He hurt Nikky!"
"He TRIED to hurt her," I correct. "And I already handled it."
Colt's eyes narrow. "What do you mean you handled it?"
"I mean I knocked him the fuck out. Broke his nose. Slammed him against a wall and made it very clear what happens if he ever comes near her again."
My brother stares at me. Then at Nicole. Then back at me.
"You... you knocked him out?"
"Cold. He dropped like a sack of shit."
"And you didn't call me?" The hurt in his voice is unmistakable. "She's my best friend and you didn't fucking call me?"
"It was Friday’s night," Nicole says. "I knew you were at the Saloon. I knew you couldn't drive. Boone was the better option."
"So, you called my brother instead of me."
"I called someone I knew could help immediately. Don't make this weird."
"It IS weird!" He runs both hands through his hair. "You're MY friend, Nikky. I'm supposed to protect you. Not him."
"Colt—"
"Whatever." He turns away, jaw clenched. "Doesn't matter. I'm still going to Jason's house. I'm still going to finish what Boone started."
"You'll ruin everything," I say flatly. "The ranch is finally getting back on its feet. Sierra invested. We have a real shot at making this work. You get arrested for assault and that all goes away."
"I don't give a shit about—"
"Yes, you do. You give a shit about Frank's legacy.
You give a shit about your brothers. You give a shit about keeping your promises.
" I step closer, lowering my voice. "And you give a shit about Nikky, which means not doing something stupid that'll make her feel responsible for destroying everything we've built. "
That lands. I see it hit him, see the fight drain out of his shoulders.
"Fuck," he mutters. "Fuck fuck FUCK."
Nicole moves to his side and puts a hand on his arm. "I'm okay. Really. I promise. Boone got there in time and Jason is never coming near me again. It's over."
"It's not over. Not for me." But his voice has lost its edge. "I should've been there. I should've been the one who—"
"You were exactly where you're supposed to be on Friday nights," she interrupts. "Getting drunk with your friends. Living your life. You can't protect me 24/7, Colt. That's not fair to either of us."
"I could try."
"And you'd drive us both crazy." She squeezes his arm. "I'm fine. I swear. Now go home, shower, drink some water, and stop being ridiculous."
He looks at her for a long moment, then pulls her into a tight hug. "I'm sorry I wasn't there."
"Nothing to be sorry for."
"I love you, you know. You're my person."
"I know. I love you too."
They hold each other, and I look away because the intimacy feels private.
Because seeing them together reminds me that Nicole is Colt's best friend first. That she was in his life years before I started seeing her as anything other than the girl who hung out in our basement.
That I have no right to want her when she clearly means so much to my brother.
When they finally separate, Colt's eyes are suspiciously wet. He wipes them roughly and turns to me.
"Thanks," he mutters. "For getting there. For protecting her. For not letting me do something stupid just now."
"That's what brothers are for."
"Yeah." He glances between us. "Why is she wearing your clothes?"
Fuck.
"She stayed here last night," I say. "Didn't want to be alone. Guest room. Her clothes were dirty, so I lent her something to sleep in."
"Guest room," Colt repeats slowly. "Right."
"Right," Nicole confirms quickly. Too quickly. "Boone was a perfect gentleman. Nothing happened."
"I wasn't suggesting anything happened." But his eyes linger on her, on my flannel hanging off her shoulder, on my sweatpants rolled at her waist, on the way my clothes swallow her curves. "Just seems... cozy."
"It's not cozy. It's practical." I cross my arms. "Would you rather I made her sleep in her dirty clothes? Or sent her home alone after a traumatic experience?"
"No. Of course not." He runs a hand through his hair again. "I'm just... surprised she called you and not me."
"Because you were drunk," I repeat. "That's all there is to it."
"Right." But he doesn't sound convinced. He looks at Nicole again, studies her face like he's searching for something. "You sure you're okay?"
"Positive." Nicole sets down her coffee cup. "I should go change. Get out of these borrowed clothes." She glances at me briefly before heading down the hallway. "Thanks again, Boone."
Then it's just me and Colt in the kitchen, and the silence is heavy.
"So," he says slowly. "You got there fast."
"She called. I drove."
"From where?"
"Here. I was working on equipment in the barn."
"Must've driven like a bat out of hell to make it in ten minutes."
"I did."
"Because she's my best friend."
It's not a question, but I answer anyway. "Because someone I care about was in danger."
Colt's eyes narrow slightly. "Someone you care about."
"Yes."
"The same way you care about the rest of us? Or different?"
Fuck. Here it is. The conversation I've been dreading for three years.
"What are you getting at, Colt?"
"I'm getting at the way you looked at her just now." He leans against the counter, arms crossed, mirroring my posture. "The way you've been looking at her for a while now, actually. Thought I was imagining it at first, but..."
"But what?"
"But then I saw her wearing your clothes. Saw you trying not to stare at her. Saw your face when I called her 'my girl.'" He pauses. "You want her."
My jaw clenches. "I don't know what you're talking about."