Colt
I scan the Hall, searching for Alice’s friends. When I catch sight of them, I touch Alice’s lower back and tip my head in their direction. We make our way through the press of bodies, and Maggie holds up her tumbler in greeting.
June scoots over, making space for Alice, and Dalton—who’s abandoned his duties as owner for the night—nods toward a chair for me to take.
“Beer or liquor?” Dalton asks, gesturing to the drinks on the table.
“Beer. Thanks.” I reach for my wallet.
“Get the fuck outta here.” Dalton bats my hand away.
As the band tunes on the stage, my mind ventures back to Alice’s house.
To the soft moan—was it a moan?—I heard on the other side of the bathroom door.
I nearly took that damn door off its hinges.
I’d been hard instantly, and had to grip the edge of the dresser and take slow, measured breaths not to do something monumentally dumb—like ask if I could join her.
But that couldn’t happen. Because a relationship, even if she were receptive to it, could jeopardize working together, which had been going so well.
What if things between us soured? Or she immediately regretted doing something with me?
We’d be forced to see the project through, even as the awkward tension strangled our productivity.
Worst-case scenario, she kicks me out. Then what?
Her loan wouldn’t cover a paid carpenter.
No. I can’t risk interfering with Alice’s dream.
Suddenly, the house lights go down and a collective cheer erupts.
The four guys from Austin, looking like they just stepped off a bus after a three-day bender, explode into their first song. It’s an upbeat alt-country track, and a burst of energy sweeps the room.
The five of us go in waves of talking and watching the band play.
It’s easy banter, and at one point I catch myself.
Because laughing with these four people, it almost feels like this is my group of friends.
And that I belong. Not because we’re teammates, or fellow soldiers.
But because we’re choosing to be here with one another.
Jesus, what the hell is Alice doing to me?
The band slows, a pedal steel guitar starting a haunting intro.
A man steps out of the crowd and walks directly over to our table. He’s tall, wearing a Western shirt and a Stetson that he removes as he approaches. He smiles, focused entirely on Alice.
"Excuse me, ma'am.” He bows his head. “I was wondering if I might have this dance?"
Dammit.
Alice turns to look at me, a question in her eyes. I want her to turn him down. I want her to say she’s already taken. But that’s preposterous, because Alice isn’t mine. And she shouldn’t be because she’s better off without me.
I tip my beer toward the man. “You should go.”
The words burn leaving my mouth. I want to shove them back down my throat immediately and wipe the eager look off that man’s face.
It’s too dark in here to be certain, but I think hurt flashes across Alice’s face, replaced swiftly by resolve. She looks at the man and beams. That smile, directed at someone else, shatters me.
“I’d love to.” She emphasizes the word. And then her hand is in his and the twosome are moving toward the dance floor.
Dalton stares at me, barely holding back laughter. “You coulda said something.”
“Fuck off,” I grunt, my eyes locked on every movement Alice makes.
Dalton is still howling with laughter when another man arrives at the table and asks June to dance. His amusement is eviscerated on the spot. Now we’re both tracking one particular woman and white-knuckling our beer bottles.
Maggie sighs and gets to her feet, tugging on Dalton’s arm. “Come on, friend. You can’t look that disappointed at your own bar. Bad for business.”
As Maggie and Dalton trudge toward the dance floor, I mutter to no one that I’ll get another round.
But this is merely an excuse to get a better angle at where the man’s hands rest on my girl.
Fuck. No. She’s not mine, I remind myself.
I make a wide circle around them, trying—and failing—to be inconspicuous.
Alice catches my gaze and allows Stetson Guy to pull her a touch closer.
I’m about five feet from the bar when Travis steps between me and my view of Alice. He nods toward her, his trademark smirk plastered on his smug face. “Looks like she’s enjoying herself.”
Instantly, my blood boils. Because at this point I’m just looking for a reason to be pissed off. But instead of reacting, I just sigh and attempt to sidestep Travis. He puts a hand on my chest and pushes me back into place. My eyes dart to where he touched me and then back up at him.
He has my full attention now, and he’s going to regret that.
“Colt,” he says, almost like he’s sad to deliver this information.
“You know me and Alice are going to end up together, don’t you?
I’m an upstanding citizen, and I love this town, same as she does.
And…” He pats my chest twice. “I have the financial resources to give her the comfortable life her parents did.” Travis leans in a touch nearer, ensuring I hear him over the music.
“And you… Well, you’re just a washed-up vet.
” Now Travis comes close enough so that only I can hear him.
“If I were you, I’d steer clear of Alice.
I heard you have a tendency to get people killed.
” Travis steps back and laughs to himself.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Slip of the tongue there.
I meant a tendency to get projects killed. Did I say people?”
I falter, my heart thundering. He knows what happened to my men, and that it was my fault. I could have Travis squealing on his knees in the blink of an eye, and yet I’m frozen by his accusation.
My eyes dart back to the dance floor, and I spot Stetson Guy sliding his hand toward Alice’s ass. She reaches back, attempting to halt the grope, but I’m already moving, Travis forgotten in an instant.
I reach them in five long strides and rip his hand off Alice, shoving him backward.
“The hell?” Stetson Guy yells over the music.
I step between him and Alice. “Go.”
The man glances at Alice, and then at me. “We were just dancing. What’s your problem?”
I jut my chin. “Walk. Away.”
He stares at me for a long moment, as if weighing how far I’m willing to take this. Relenting, he rolls his eyes and holds his hands up in surrender. “Whatever, man.” He turns and leaves, shaking his head as he vanishes into the crowd.
I look at Alice, my hands finding her shoulders. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine, Colt.” She frowns, breaking eye contact and glancing at the stage. Then she looks back at me. “I was handling that, you know.”
I drop my hands from her shoulders. “I know. I’m sorry, I…”
Alice looks at me, and though it feels like I should say something else, I’m not sure what.
I can’t think straight around her, maybe because I want to say so much to her.
She sighs deeply and then turns toward our table, walking toward it.
I don’t know what possesses me, but I reach out and grab her hand.
Her eyes meet mine, surprise coloring her cheeks.
“Dance with me, Alice,” I say before I can stop myself. It’s what I should have said the moment that man came to our table.
She pauses. I can feel her pulse fluttering against my thumb. She looks at my hand, then at me, considering. I’m asking for something I shouldn’t, but right now, I can’t summon the will to care.
A small smile tugs at the corner of her lips. “Might as well. Doesn’t look like you’re gonna let me dance with anyone else.”
“Not anyone who touches you like that.” I take Alice into my arms, pulling her close. She returns the gesture, closing the distance between us a touch more. For a brief, terrifying second, I rest my chin on top of her head. And dammit if it doesn’t feel right—her, in my arms. Safe. Mine.
I spot Maggie at our table. She’s standing up, grinning widely, her phone raised. The woman is overtly filming us.
I lean down, my lips brushing Alice’s ear. “Just so you know, your friend is filming this.”
Alice laughs, the sound reaching through my chest. “Well,” she says, scrunching her adorable nose. “Let’s give her something good then.”
I pull her even tighter against me.
Our boots crunch over the fallen leaves as we walk the final few steps to Alice’s house. Before I say goodnight, I head inside and check each room as Alice shakes her head, asking when’s the last time I heard of a break-in in Holly River.
But construction projects attract attention because it’s an easy way to steal and sell tools and copper wire. I check the back door, the side entrance, the windows on the ground floor. Everything is secure.
“Okay.” I stop just inside the doorway. “Everything looks good. Tonight was fun. Thanks for inviting me. I’m sorry about that guy…” I shake my head, smiling suddenly, because I’ve a bit of liquid courage in me now. “No. I’m not sorry.”
Alice leans a shoulder against the wall, her boots already kicked off. She smiles too. “I know you’re not.”
I meet her gaze. Hold it.
Her smile fades.
Mine does too.
We stand unmoving as the air between us grows heavy, charged. I clench and unclench my hands, trying to remember how to breathe. I know it’s time to walk the fuck away, but I can’t seem to do so.
“Goodnight,” she says finally, her voice a whisper.
I nod for several seconds. Then swallow. “Goodnight, Alice.”
I definitely should be opening the front door by now. And waving goodbye. But my boots are cemented to the floor and there’s not a goddamn thing I can do about that.
Alice opens her arms. “Hug?”
I step into her embrace, wrapping my arms around her.
I bury my head in her hair, squeezing her tighter.
My heart pounds in my chest. I can feel hers too, beating like a wild thing.
Every letter she’s ever written me shoots through my veins at once—an injection, a reminder.
That she never left me. That she always saw the best in me. I pull back slowly, and my brain says—
Get the hell away from her, Colt.
Go the hell home!
Her cheek slides past mine and we pause, right there, her lips an inch away from mine, both of us breathing hard. I hesitate, thinking of all the reasons I’ve told myself not to touch her. She’s my best friend’s little sister. This could complicate our work. I’m not good enough for her.
The reasons…they mean nothing.
I kiss her.
For a moment I’m afraid she’ll jerk away, ask what the hell I’m doing. But then she’s gripping me tighter, her lips moving with mine. And I fucking lose it. My hands find her thighs and I hoist her up. Alice gasps against my mouth, her legs locking around my waist.
I shuffle forward until her back presses against the wall. My tongue meets hers and the soft, wet sensation shoots straight to my cock. I grip her thighs harder, push myself closer, our mouths moving with blinding urgency.
I fumble toward the kitchen, tripping over a stray piece of wood, and find my footing well enough to press her against the bookshelves. Her hands rake down my back, nails digging into flesh.
More, my brain roars.
Her tongue traces the inside of my mouth, my lips, and I have half a mind to catch her jaw and demand to know where she learned that.
“Colt,” she whimpers.
“I’ve got you, baby,” I growl against her mouth, striding toward the kitchen now. With one hand, I sweep the sketches, pens, and stray mug off the counter. The porcelain crashes to the floor, and Alice giggles against my mouth.
I lay Alice down, careful, and take a moment to admire her.
Her hair is fanned in a halo around her head and her face is flushed, pupils blown wide.
She reaches for me, and I’m right fucking there.
I spread her thighs and lean over, coming down between them, her back pressed into the granite, my weight pressed into her.
Her legs encircle my waist, and this time I’m grinding against her, my cock painfully hard, aching for friction. Aching for her.
My hand slides up her side and cups her breast through her sweater, squeezing gently, thumb brushing over her nipple. When Alice rocks her hips upward, I drag my tongue up her neck, grinding harder against her.
“Please,” she begs.
I kiss her again, tasting her like I always wanted to. My hands move to the button on her jeans, and she’s already lifting her hips, giving me space to remove them. I want my mouth between her thighs, her cunt on my fucking tongue. And then I’m going to drive into her and—
I stop.
Because if I move one single muscle, it’s over. I’m going to fuck Alice until I can’t see straight. And then I’m going to destroy anyone who tries to touch her again.
What the hell am I doing?!
With a reserve of willpower I didn’t know existed, I step back, my hands raised.
“Colt.” Alice reaches for me, and I take another backward step.
“Alice, I…” I shake my head, unable to process the line I just crossed, and all the others I want to cross over and over again.
“I’m… Fuck, Alice. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…
” I turn and slam my hands down on the barstool.
My pulse is thundering in my ears, and Alice is still lying there—impossibly beautiful, face twisted in confusion—and my god, I just screwed this all up like I knew I would.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat. I’m shaking with adrenaline and from the withdrawal from her, my body burning to return to hers.
Alice is starting to sit up, and I’m struggling to find the right words, and just as the silence stretches into something agonizing, a banging thunders through the house.
Our heads pivot toward the front door, and another knock comes—loud, aggressive.
I glance at Alice and she shakes her head, indicating she doesn’t know who it is. It’s late, and her eyes are wide with alarm.
“Wait here,” I order before crossing the room. Stopping by the front window, I peer out, moving the curtain a fraction. It’s dark out, but the motion sensor has kicked on, bathing the stoop in harsh floodlights.
For a second, I can’t comprehend what I’m seeing.
I hang my head, disbelief washing over me.
“Shit,” I mutter.
“Colt?” Alice’s voice is tentative behind me. She slides off the table, buttoning her jeans. “Who is it?”
I unbolt the door and pull it open.
The man steps toward the threshold, looking at me and then Alice. He throws his arms wide, a lopsided grin plastered on his face.
“Hey, fucker,” Grant says. “Miss me?”