Chapter 27
If eye-fucking was a thing, Marshall was definitely doing some eye-fucking right now.
How was he supposed to resist the seductive power of watching Colette take a small piece of steak, weave it through the peppercorn sauce, and put it in her mouth?
The way her eyes fluttered closed as the flavor hit her taste buds?
Torture. The way she licked a dab of sauce off her lips rather than waste that deliciousness in a napkin? Devastating.
He dropped his gaze down to his plate, before he was tempted to sweep the dishes off the table with his arms and taste the rich red wine off her tongue. It was wrong to place the blame on her, but the slow, sensual way she ate, breathed, and sipped her wine was driving him insane.
“Is something wrong with your steak?” Colette asked, eyeing his plate, then his face, with a raised brow. Marshall cleared his throat.
His mouth curved into a grin as he picked up his knife. “No, I’m just having trouble focusing on my meal.”
Colette licked her lips, completely unaware of how distracting she was being. The side of her mouth quirked up into a half-smile.
“Well, you’d better eat, you’re going to need your energy for later,” she said, biting her bottom lip.
Marshall flushed. Maybe he needed to be tested for a fever.
The amount of blushing happening these days was alarming.
It was working against the tough guy persona he had been projecting.
With one look, she had him on his knees. Literally.
“Check please,” he said to no one, lifting a finger as though to flag down a server.
“Marshall, we are not leaving.” Colette giggled, putting another piece of perfect, medium-rare steak in her mouth. He stroked his fork and knife with his thumbs and turned to his food with a sigh. He could do this. Focus on his food for a few minutes to finish the meal.
“So, what are your goals at the ranch? I know you moved here from the city a while ago, but do you think you’ll want to stay here forever?” she asked, her captivating eyes focused on him with curiosity.
He had to remind himself that this could be a normal dating conversation.
What are your goals? What do you want in life?
The questions filled him with dread, because in truth, he wasn’t sure he had looked that far into the future.
The need had never arisen. And now, he dreaded what was to come when he resumed his life without the flirty accountant.
“I left the city looking for a fresh start, where no one knew me. I’ve grown to love it here.
On the ranch, if you work hard, you see results.
If you put your heart and soul into it, it will give you that love back.
It’s hard to explain.” He reached for his glass, swallowing the rich burgundy to fill the pit that was opening in his chest at the thought of leaving Rosebud.
“Grandpa never gave me a time limit on running the ranch, so I assume the job is here as long as I want it. If I can fix this mess I made, of course.”
Colette’s head bobbed gently as she listened. “Do you ever think of moving back to the city?”
Marshall studied her face for a moment, his stomach sinking at the meaning of her words. He would never lie to Colette, not about this.
“No. I don’t miss it. There is nothing for me there,” he said, taking another bite of his steak. Conversation over.
Colette turned to her meal, and they ate in silence.
His thoughts were messy, disordered. It’s not like he was in love with her, yet he had the distinct impression this conversation had meaning.
It was drawing lines and making sure every party in this relationship remembered the rules. The limitations of their courtship.
“What about you? What do you see yourself doing after the contract?” A sucker for punishment, he asked without wanting to know the answer. He needed confirmation of his feelings, a reminder of the temporary nature of their liaison. It would give him strength.
She swallowed a mouthful of wine, eyes cast down to her glass.
“Well, I would hope that after the contract, I manage to secure another steady job. Something that pays well. It sucks to be laid off, but the oil and gas industry is very consistent in its highs and lows. I’m hoping I can wait out this economic downturn and find something more permanent. ”
Marshall nodded. “You deserve that. I still can’t believe they let you go.
” The words “because I never would” swirled in his mouth, and he drowned them in wine.
He quickly shoved them back down from where they came.
She was a great accountant; her bosses were idiots.
That’s where his thoughts were going. Or at least that’s what he told himself.
“Life is like that sometimes. When one door closes, another one opens. And that’s what led me here. I’m glad I met you.” Soft pink suffused her cheeks as she said the words, as though she had revealed too much. Her smile beckoned one from his own lips and he gave a soft chuckle.
“Yeah, me too,” he replied, his voice thick.
Who was he?
Some kind of lovesick fool?
A giddy sensation flooded his chest.
Her words pleased him an inordinate amount.
Marshall shook his head and focused on swirling the baby potatoes through the rich sauce.
Eat dinner, drink wine, don’t get too attached.
His chest lifted with a deep breath. Maybe this date had been a bad idea.
The more time he spent with her, the more they spoke, the more he became invested in whatever this was.
Friends with benefits?
No, he didn’t want to fuck any of his friends.
Boyfriend and girlfriend? Certainly not with these time constraints.
Lovers? Maybe.
His groin tightened at the thought of being her lover. Erasing all thoughts of the last guy she dated.
“So, have you dated a lot of women around here?” Colette asked, interrupting his thoughts, and he coughed, choking on a piece of steak. Had she heard his thoughts?
“I’ve dated some.”
“Jessica?”
Marshall coughed again. Was she some kind of super spy or something?
“We went out once or twice. It never went anywhere,” he admitted. “It felt more like tagging along on Evan’s dates than anything.”
Colette raised a brow. “She was pretty interested in you the other night, from what I heard.”
“Yeah, well, I have it on good authority she has moved on.”
She lifted her glass of wine to her lips and snorted. “Interesting.”
“What about the last guy you dated? Is he pining away for you in the city, only discovering what he lost and desperate to win you back?” Marshall questioned, his eyes narrowing. He wanted to see her reaction. Did she have some unfinished business in the city that would have her hurrying back?
Her shoulders dropped and she studied her meal closely.
“Definitely not. The last guy I dated,” she used air quotations for the word dated, “he was happy to have one night with me and forget I ever existed. Which is kind of my dating life in a nutshell. I’ve been with a few guys, but they never linger long.
They don’t stop long enough to develop anything that deep.
” Her mouth turned down as she cast her gaze down.
Anger simmered in his chest. The way some men like to love women and cast them so quickly disgusted him.
Marshall swallowed the guilt, well aware of his own dating history and the revolving door of lovers he had in the city.
His old life. It was humbling. He reached a hand to stroke her cheek with his thumb, and her gaze locked with his.
“Well, I’m honored to stop here with you.” He ached to kiss her, to bring back her smile.
How had they gotten here?
He wanted this date to be fun, not sad.
They both had a less-than-stellar dating history, but it had brought them here. He had no regrets about that.
Colette chuckled. “You sound like an eighties song,” she said, her eyes dancing. “I’m going to have to introduce you to Modern English.”
He grinned and rested his chin in his palm, savoring each inch of her face. Her expression was pure sunshine, and nothing was more rewarding to him than bringing it back. The server came and cleared their plates, leaving behind the dessert menu.
The weekend DJ was setting up on the stage, and Marshall pulled his phone out of his pocket to check the time. They still had some time before the show started at the theater, and it was a quick walk down the street.
“You feel like dancing?”
She cocked her head. “Do we have time? I don’t want to miss the play.”
“We have time for a couple songs, I’d say,” he said, standing. “Just give me a minute.” He smirked, knowing she watched him as he strode toward the DJ. He’d known DJ Hanson since he had been coming to The Golden Horseshoe. The man waved as he approached.
“Are you here on a date with that lovely lady tonight?” Hanson asked, a teasing tone to his voice. “Can’t say I saw it coming with you, Marshall.”
“Surprise, I guess. Can I request a song? It’s her favorite, and I’d love to hear it before we have to leave for the theater,” Marshall asked, watching as Hanson popped open his laptop and brought up his song list on the screen.
“Sure, I can look it up.” The icon blinked in the search bar, making Marshall break into a sweat. He had no idea what the song was.
“Do you have Modern English? What’s their big song? I forget.”
Hanson gave him a blank look and snorted.
“Um, that’s not on my usual list. I’ll have to search it. I’ve never heard of this band.”
Marshall gritted his teeth, pulling out his phone and searching. Maybe he could find a song that would work. It had to be the right one.
“’I Melt with you’?” Hanson suggested. “That seems to be one of their most popular songs that come up.”
Rubbing his beard, Marshall decided to throw caution to the wind and just go for it. What the hell did he know about eighties music?
“Sure, let’s do that one.” He strode back to the table where Colette was waiting.
“Are you friends with the DJ?” she asked.
“I’m friends with everyone in town,” Marshall grinned. “Did you order dessert?”
Colette shook her head. “I think I’ll have something later.”
Marshall tipped the wine bottle, filling both of their glasses, and waited for the music to begin.
Nervous energy thrummed through him, hoping he had gotten it right.
Their conversation had taken a turn, and he would love to put a smile on her face.
He could understand why relationships could be fun, the desire to make someone happy an addictive high. It was a nice distraction, for now.
“What kind of music does the DJ usually play?”
“A lot of country, but sometimes some pop songs,” Marshall explained, thrumming his fingers on the table. Colette rested her head in her hands, her eyes warm. An upbeat song began to play over the speakers and Colette turned to see the DJ.
“Did you…” she asked. Marshall nodded.
“I needed to know.” He stood and reached for her hand. She bounced out of her seat, already moving to the music. He could see the appeal of eighties music when he saw how she transformed.
Spinning in his arms, she sang along with the lyrics, cheeks rosy and glowing.
Wrapping an arm around her waist, Marshall pulled her closer as a new, more twangy country song began to play.
Drawn by the floral scent of her skin and maybe…
her shampoo? He closed the gap between them as much as he could.
This closeness, this heat, whatever it was pulling him into her orbit, he had a sinking sensation inside, warning him of danger.
He was enjoying himself too much; his hand around her body felt too good.
They were feelings he would long for if she left.
When she left.
And they both knew she wouldn’t stay.
Ignoring the voice of reason inside, he squeezed her waist and brushed his cheek against hers.
If he was lucky, the warmth of her touch would linger on his skin, and her scent would absorb into his clothing.
Little pieces of her would stay to comfort him.
He would capture this moment and leave an imprint that he could treasure when it was all over.
And he would need it, because Colette Slip was going to absolutely ruin him.