Chapter 16 #2
“The backs are completely bent in,” he argues. “And they’re so dirty!” This coming from the man whose hat collection looks like its own miniature desert.
“So? No holes.” When we were younger, we wore our shoes until our toes were poking out the fronts. We couldn’t afford to buy new shoes often. I guess the habit is hard to break.
“No holes,” Colt scoffs, shaking his head. “Fine. Whatever. Are you hungry?”
“I could eat.”
Colt pulls into a little roadside diner called The Dusty Spoon, not even ten minutes later. It’s nothing fancy, just worn booths and a chalkboard menu, but the food smells amazing, and Colt gets a wave from nearly everyone in the room. Small town perks, I guess.
We slide into a booth in the corner, and before I can open the menu, Colt leans back and looks at me. “Thank you for coming tonight,” he says quietly. “It meant a lot to Ben.”
“I didn’t do much,” I shrug. “I sat on the bleachers and yelled, ‘Go Ben.’ Pretty sure it wasn’t that impressive.”
He shakes his head, serious now. “You gave him confidence. You show up. That matters more than you think. I think you’re his favorite person right now. You’re higher up on the list than Finn, so that’s saying a lot.”
I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, unsure what to say to that. My throat tightens. “He’s easy to show up for.”
Colt nods. “Yeah. Still, it just means something. To him. To us.”
Us. The word floats between us like a balloon I’m scared to pop. I don’t respond, and neither does he, not with words anyway. Instead, he reaches across the table and brushes his thumb over my knuckles, slow and deliberate.
And I think this—this quiet, thoughtful cowboy—might be just as easy to show up for.
The following Friday, after Ben’s baseball practice, we all get together around the fire to roast hot dogs and s’mores.
Even the ranch hands join, making it a full-blown event.
Colt, Jake, and Finn stand at the grill, sipping beer and flipping burgers for those who don’t want to roast a hot dog.
Sylvie is setting up the table, laying out potato salad and corn bread.
Ben sits beside Mandy, still in his baseball jersey, swinging his arms around as he tells her about practice.
I watch it all unfold with a careful eye, just enjoying being a part of something for once.
The lawn chair beside me scrapes against the pebbles of the fire area, a well-landscaped section behind Mandy and Sylvie’s home. “Howdy, Kayla,” Scott plops down into his chair, beer in hand. He smiles smugly from his seat, like the winner of the lottery. “How are you this fine evening?”
“I’m good, Scott,” I laugh at his overly exaggerated southern accent. “How are you?”
“Well, your man is a bit of a hardass, if I’m being honest. But other than being sunburned and tired, I’m doing pretty good.”
“I don’t have a man, Scott.” He knows this.
“And maybe try some sunscreen every once in a while.” The blonde man, who had fair skin, now looks like a strawberry with the amount of red skin he’s showing.
That must hurt. “I think I have some Aloe Vera up in my room, do you want some?” I take pity on the poor ranch hand.
“Really?” He perks up, eyes sparkling.
“Yeah, come with me,” I stand from my chair, and I swear he literally jumps at the opportunity. He follows behind me like a golden retriever, bouncing with each step. We go around the house, rather than through, and then in through the front door.
“Am I gonna get fired for this?” Scott asks, looking around the foyer. Last time he was here, his boss did tell him to get the fuck out, so I understand his hesitancy.
“Nah, I told you it was cool to come in,” I wave away his concerns. “Come on, I’m pretty sure it’s in my bathroom.”
He follows me all the way to my room, coming to a standstill in the door of the bathroom, while I dig through the cabinet under the sink, looking for the green goo.
The nice thing about the guest room in this house is that it has an ensuite bathroom, so I don’t have to share with Ben or Colter.
I have to hand it to whoever designed this house, they knew what women wanted.
A large kitchen, walk-in closets, and ensuite bathrooms. This house is literally my dream house.
“This place is nice,” Scott says, looking around my room without actually invading my space. He stays close to me, in a respectful manner that I appreciate. He doesn’t move around the room, looking through my things like most would be tempted to do.
“I know, I really lucked out with Colt offering me a place. The apartment above the coffee shop was barely doing it for me.”
“I heard about that place, one of the newer ranch hands was gonna rent it until they realized there wasn’t a shower.”
“Yeah, desperate times call for desperate measures.” I find the yellow lid to the Aloe Vera, pulling it out from behind a clutter of bottles. “Here!”
“Just like Billy to take advantage like that,” Scott scoffs, taking the bottle from me.
Downstairs, a door slams shut. The sound of thudding boots makes its way up the stairs.
“Shit,” Scott whispers, eyes shooting wide open.
“Save me, Kayla!” Scooting around me and further into my bathroom, he uses me as a human shield.
What a wimp.
“What the fuck are you doing up here?” The angry cowboy steps into my room, immediately clocking his ranch hand cowering behind me. His eyes narrow in on the two of us, and I swear to God they almost glow red.
“He needed something for his sunburn,” I say gently, like talking to an angry bull. I step away from Scott and closer to Colt. “I was just getting him some Aloe Vera.” It’s like my words go in one ear and out the other. Colt doesn’t even acknowledge that I’ve spoken.
“Scott. What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Sunburn?” He holds the bottle of green goo up sheepishly.
The gruff cowboy is not amused. “You’re fired.”
“Colt!” I snap, taking another step towards the tall man, so that I’m right in his space. “You can’t fire him.”
“I think I just did,” Colt drawls. He looks down at me, eyes blazing.
“Scott, you’re not fired,” I promise my friend. “Go back down to the fire. Take the cream with you.”
“Thank you, Kayla,” he whispers, scooting past me and taking the long way around Colt to get out of the room. Colt growls at Scott’s words, fists clenching.
“Out.” He snaps, and Scott goes running.
“Colt, you’re being unreasonable.”
“Why was he up here, Kayla?”
“Do you have a hearing problem or something?”
“He isn’t allowed up here,” he grinds out, clenching and unclenching his fists.
“I didn’t know that. I told him he could come up while I got the cream. You have to tell me the rules if you want me to follow them.”
“You don’t get to tell him what to do. And you don’t get to tell me what to do. He’s fired.”
“If you fire him, I won’t stay this summer.” His eyes spark in interest. Is this what it feels like to catch a fish on your hook? This feeling of satisfaction when you realize you’ve hooked them?
“You’re gonna stay this summer?”
“Only if Scott does,” I counter. I’d made the decision to stay almost immediately after he’d asked me, and I was going to tell him sooner, but I kept forgetting. Seems to be working in mine and Scott’s favor now, though.
“He doesn’t come up here again,” Colt warns, and I grab his hand, nodding enthusiastically.
“I promise.”
Colt stares down, looking at where our hands meet. “No men but me in this room, Kayla.”
I stare up into his eyes. “Okay.” I wouldn’t even be interested in having anyone else in here.
He huffs out a breath, the tension leaving his shoulders. His forehead comes down to rest against mine. And he takes a moment to calm himself. I force myself not to react to the new boundary Colt’s just carved.
For a moment, neither of us says anything. The heat of his anger cools, replaced by something heavier, quieter. Something I don’t have the words for yet.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do with you,” he whispers, breath ghosting over my lips.
“You’ll figure it out,” I promise him.
He pulls back first, eyes scanning mine like he’s making sure we’re okay. Then he steps away fully, scrubbing a hand through his hair and nodding once. His hair has grown out quite a bit in the last few months, and he could really use a haircut.
“I’ll be downstairs when you’re ready,” he says. “I’ll walk you back to the fire.”
“I won’t be long.”
And just like that, he turns and leaves the room, his boots echoing down the stairs until the house falls quiet again. I stand there for a beat longer, the bathroom cupboard still open, Scott long gone, and the room suddenly feeling too big.
Then I smile and head back out to the party with everyone else. He didn’t even take the time to take off his boots before stalking up here, and that feels like a victory in and of itself.
We walk back to the fire together, melding back into the conversation like we were never even gone. Like I belong wherever he is.
It only takes one offhand comment on a random weekday night to shatter the illusion.