2 | Hitchin rides
CLEMENTINE
It’s nearly 2 AM when I peel myself away from the dance floor. I’m sweating through my dress—soaked in heat and the slow burn of corn whiskey, cooked all the way to well-done. I’m breathless, dizzy, and my hair is clinging to my neck.
I wobble over to where I abandoned my ridiculous shoes, digging through my purse for my phone.
“Need a ride somewhere?”
The voice hits me like a splash of cold water.
I whip around, scowling. “From you? I’d rather snort hot sauce.”
He grins slow, dimples showing under the brim of that damn hat. “Now there’s an image. You drive yourself?”
“I’m not doing this, Colton.” My voice is sharp enough to cut through the swampy air. “You had your chance.”
“Come on now, girl. For old time’s sake.”
I shoot him a glare that would fell weaker men. He just looks amused, like he’s got nothing but time and patience. I glance at my phone, then back at the dance floor. If these people are anything like I remember, nobody’s leaving before dawn.
“No,” I snap, stuffing my phone back in my purse. I stomp off in the direction of the dirt road, trying to ignore the squelch of mud under my heels. I don’t even know what my plan is—just that he’s not part of it.
A second later, headlights blaze to life behind me, casting long shadows over the dirt road.
I turn, shielding my eyes against the brightness. “What the hell are you doing?”
He leans out the window, hat tipped back. “Making sure you get home safe.”
I plant my hands on my hips. “Stop it. We’re not doing the whole ‘cowboy reunites with long-lost city girl’ Hallmark movie thing.”
He shrugs one shoulder. “Suit yourself. I’m just keepin’ you outta trouble, wild thing. Mama raised me well.”
I groan so hard it rattles my ribs and keep walking. I make it halfway down the road before I’m practically chewing on my own pride.
I spin back to the idling truck. “Are you gonna keep your gross manure-covered hands to yourself?”
He holds both up, palms out. “Washed ’em, sugar. With soap. Swear on Mama’s cornbread. But yeah, I’ll keep ’em to myself.”
“Fine,” I huff. “Will you drop me at my aunt’s farmhouse?”
He nods once.
I march over and climb in, flopping against the seat like a corpse. It’s blessedly soft. I immediately rip off my heels, tossing them somewhere in the footwell, and roll my head back with a long groan.
I can smell him. It’s still the same scent, that maddening mix of leather, cedar, and him. It burrows under my skin, finds the parts of me I thought I’d barricaded years ago.
I force myself to turn away, folding my arms on the door and resting my chin on them as I breathe in the warm night air.
He doesn’t say anything, but the silence isn’t uncomfortable.
My body aches in every joint. My feet throb, my head spins a little. I close my eyes, breathing deep.
Something cold hits my lap, making me jump.
I blink at the bottle of water, holding it up like it’s an extraterrestrial object. “What’s this?”
He’s watching me with that annoying half-grin. “What, they don’t have bottled water in the city?”
I narrow my eyes at him, twisting off the cap. “Why do you even have this? And why’s it cold?”
He nods to the back. “Cooler in the backseat. I keep cold drinks for long days. Figured you needed one.”
I glower at him while taking a long pull. Cold water has never tasted so damn good.
He waits until I’m done before saying, voice low and rough, “It’s really good to see you again, Tiny.”
I groan. “Quit calling me that.”
He holds up his hands apologetically. “Old habits. Clementine.” He rolls my name around his tongue like it’s expensive. “Still good to see you.”
I don’t answer—I’m trying too hard not to fall back under his spell.
The rumble of the engine is the only sound in the truck. Colton doesn’t try to make small talk, doesn’t fill the space with useless chatter. He just drives me through the night, headlights carving tunnels through the darkness.
We pull up to my aunt’s property. Before I can bolt, he kills the engine.
I shove the door open. His hand lands on my thigh, strong and hot even through my dress.
“What are you doin’ tomorrow?”
I grip his wrist, prying him off me. “Anything but you.”
He lets me push him off without a fight, but there’s no apology in those eyes.
“I made a lot of changes to the ranch. Thought you might wanna see ’em. Take a ride. Walk the pastures. You used to love the calves.”
“Yeah, no thanks.” My voice is ice. “You don’t get to ignore me for years and then act like I’m supposed to drop everything when you decide to care. What, are my tits finally big enough for you now? Asshole.”
I slam the door so hard it rocks the whole truck. I stomp away, cursing under my breath. I don’t make it three steps before I hear the heavy thunk of his door shutting too. His boots crunch over gravel as he follows.
“Clementine.”
I don’t turn. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”
“Yep,” he says steadily. “Right here. Behind you. Making sure you don’t bust that pretty head open in the dark.”
I spin to face him, damp hair whipping around my shoulders. He’s closer than I want but not quite close enough to touch. His hat shadows those perfect, maddeningly patient eyes.
“Go back to your damn truck, Colton. I don’t need an escort.”
He tilts his head, voice dropping low. “Ain’t leavin’ you out here alone. I don’t care if you hate me.”
I scoff. “I don’t hate you.”
His eyebrow lifts. “No?”
I glare. “I just think you’re an arrogant, bull-headed, emotionally constipated ass who thinks he can fix everything with that stupid grin and some drawled bullshit.”
He nods slow, serious. “Fair ’nough.”
I blink. That’s not the reaction I was expecting.
He keeps walking toward me, slow enough I could bolt if I wanted. But I don’t. God help me, I can’t move at all.
When he’s close enough that his infuriatingly intoxicating scent hits me again, he stops dead in his tracks.
“I wasn’t tryin’ to demand anything,” he rasps. “Just thought you might wanna see the place that used to make you smile so easy. Figured you might wanna know you’re still welcome there.”
I swallow hard. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t play nice now,” I whisper, voice breaking.
He sighs, deep and rough. His voice is gentle, for him. “Ain’t got it in me to be anything else with you, Tiny.”
I blink away the tears stinging my eyes. Damn him.
He lifts one hand and rests it on the porch rail between us instead of touching me. Like he knows he’s not allowed, but wants to anyway.
“I was wrong,” he says plainly. “About a lot of things. I know that. I don’t need you to forgive me tonight. Hell, don’t need you to ever forgive me at all if you don’t wanna. But I’m gonna say sorry anyway. Because you fuckin’ deserve it.”
I hate that it hits me so hard. My eyes burn.
He drops his hand from the rail, takes a step back, giving me that space I’m too stubborn to ask for.
“Get inside safe,” he drawls. “Lock the door behind you. And drink the rest of that water.”
I roll my eyes, but they’re blurry.
He turns away then, and I watch that stupid saunter as he makes his way back to his truck.
He opens his door, leaning on it. “Go on then, get inside.” He jerks his chin at me.
I fumble for the knob, slip inside, and lock it behind me.
I watch him through the window, heart pounding, until he finally climbs in and drives off into the dark.
When his taillights disappear, I press my forehead to the cool glass and exhale.
Yeah. Coming back here was a grave mistake.
----
Would you have accepted that ride? ??