CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
RILEY
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I message Jeb and tell him and the team I’m going to be a few hours late. I just need some time on my own to process last night. To sit and stare at the garden and affirm that I’ll be okay never seeing Colt again.
I will.
There are millions of men out there much better suited for me.
It would never work between us even if it was an option. Which it’s not.
I’m still in a towel and barely dried myself. Despite it being late summer, I shiver at the breeze from my open window hitting my skin.
I blow out a breath, wondering how to wrap my head around what just happened. Colt just rocketed through my life in less than eighteen hours and then disappeared.
I spot the morning-after pill on the kitchen bench and remind myself to take it.
I dragged myself into the bathroom after he drove away, stripped and stood under the water for an awful long time.
Now I’m just sitting on the bed.
Aches from his strong hands, clever mouth and thick cock still throb and will do so for days. I hope they never disappear.
My phone buzzes, and I barely give it a glance. It will be Jeb being a smartass. I feel a hint of guilt, but given it’s my business and I never take time off, they can all start the job without me today.
I run my fingers over the black leather on my wrist and wonder at what prompted Colt to give me such a treasured item. I know he never takes it off. That it was a reminder of his friend Jack, and how short life is.
I’m just a girl.
A girl he slept with.
One, who should be dating and freezing my eggs, and meeting men in my own country.
Mom is right.
Simon cheated on me, but there are amazing men out there in the world. In Australia. Perhaps last night with Colt is a reminder to get back on the horse again.
So to speak.
I couldn’t see Colt cheating. He was unimpressed when I said Simon had cheated, and it was nice to hear a man say that. I imagine him being highly possessive and very protective of the woman he one day falls in love with him.
God, imagine him as a girl Dad. That poor little girl would be—
I glance at the pill again.
Climbing to my feet, I walk into the kitchen and get a glass out of the cupboard. Filling it with water, I take the capsule out of the box and swallow it down.
Then, because I always forget, I take my supplements while I’m at it.
Done.
No little Colt Winters growing in my tummy.
I wish I could take the day off and consider calling in some of my freelance contractors who help when there is a big job on.
It is probably too late in the morning now.
Wandering to the pantry, I pull out my cereal and a bowl, then grab the milk and stir it mindlessly.
Curling up for a nap and dreaming of Colt feels oh so nice right now. Curling up with him in person much nicer.
At least we had one night.
The desire to cry makes me feel silly. My nose runs, and I let out a sad laugh as I wipe my elbow across my eyes.
So dumb.
He was never mine.
I was never his.
Yet my eyes land on the leather, and I do feel like I belong to Colt Winters.
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I NEEDED MY girls. I messaged Billie and Kylie and asked them to meet me at Tiger's Bar after work. I skipped Pilates, reminding myself I did a pretty big workout last night.
Then at work.
By the time I arrived at the site this morning and unloaded my gardening tools, I found the boys having morning tea and only half the work done.
“What the hell, you guys. That section should have been dug up by now. We have the concrete guys arriving at one.”
“We were one man down.” Jeb lifted a brow.
“Then you should’ve done what I do when one of you is hungover on a Friday.” I lifted my own brow dramatically. “Worked twice as hard.”
He bit down on his sausage roll and chewed, running his eyes over me as if seeking an answer for my lateness.
“Break time is over,” I announced, and they all groaned.
Too bad.
I would have had to pay the concrete guys to show up a second time. It was a reminder that when the boss is away, things rarely get done to the same standard.
I was disappointed with Jeb.
He’d been hinting at a pay raise and promotion for months. Next time I’d give this as an example of why I was saying no. It was his opportunity to show me he was deserving, and he failed.
The job today was not a difficult one, and it was only that they’d fucked around on site that they’d got behind.
That was on him.
Not me.
So, after work, I took a quick shower, changed into a rusty brown sundress and white canvas sneakers, grabbed my phone and keys, then headed to Tigers Bar.
I was early, so ordered a glass of VB—or Victoria Bitter, my favorite Australian beer—and a bowl of potato wedges with tons of sour cream and bacon.
Comfort eating.
I didn’t care.
It’s not like I need to fit into the Balenciaga dress again in a hurry. In fact, I have no idea where I’ll ever wear it again.
Billie arrives first, slipping onto the stool next to me with a glass of wine, then dives into the wedges.
“God, please don’t let me eat more than three... and a half of these.”
“I’ll count.”
“Four and a half, maybe.”
I snigger and scoop an enormous amount of sour cream with a wedge and almost inhale it into my body.
“You used the emergency girl code. Everything okay, or was it carbohydrate support you needed?” she asks.
“Both. Mostly the carbs.” I shovel another wedge in. “Let’s wait for Kylie so I don’t have to repeat.”
Billie seems content to do that and eat the remaining three wedges she’s lined up on a napkin.
Then she eyes more.
I was dying to talk to the girls about Colt. Before last night, I was happy to keep the entire thing to myself. Especially after Vagina-Gate. I wasn’t telling a soul about that.
Now? Now I need girl therapy.
I needed them to tell me that emotions were just a result of great sex. The hormones or whatever. That it doesn’t mean anything.
That I was an idiot to stay in contact, and I should forget him entirely. That I should post back his bracelet...
I wasn’t telling them about that.
Kylie arrives a few minutes later and plonks her bag on the table. “Bloody hell, I’m over this traffic. I need to be rich immediately so I can hire a driver.”
I snort.
Then moan when it makes me think of Colt flying over in his private jet. Which I now have an inkling of what it would have cost. Also, a range of prices on jets.
I spent the rest of my lunch hour dividing a billion dollars into monthly amounts and how much interest based on an average American bank would pay out on a two-billion-dollar balance.
Which is a weird thing to do.
I’ve never been interested in Colt’s money.
Even while I was doing it, I glanced around me to make sure no one spotted me. As if guilty. But in the absence of being able to call him, it made me feel like he hadn’t just walked out of my life.
And messaging and saying hey, thanks for the bracelet, dinner and sex, have a great life felt very final.
Once Kylie has her spritzer and she finishes telling us what else she’d do with five million dollars, all eyes fall on me.
“Okay, 911, what’s the emergency?” Billie asks.
Drawing in a breath, I take another large sip of my beer, drop it on the table and then make my confession.
“I slept with Colt.”
The two stare at me like I’ve lost my mind, then glance at one another.
“Like phone sex?” Kylie asks, frowning as she takes a sip.
Yes, but I’m not touching that with a barge pole. Ever. It will go to my grave with me.
“No, like actual sex. In person. Here. In Australia.” Cue the gaping mouths. “He flew over. In. A. Private. Jet.”
Kylie’s glass drops to the table, and she leans in. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
I nod.
“Why do you look so miserable? Jesus. What kind of jet? I bet he has a driver. My god. Is he as hot in real life?”
I nod miserably. “More.”
She leans back, glancing around. “This proves my life sucks. Unbelievable. So, how was it?”
“Amazing.”
Billie studies me. “And. Are you seeing him again? How long is he here?”
I sigh. “He’s gone.”
Kylie almost has a mental breakdown. “What? When...wait, has he... fuck, what day did he arrive?”
“Last night.”
“So let me get this straight. A hot billionaire from New York flies to Melbourne to shag you for one hot and steamy night, and you’re unhappy about this?”
I’m almost irritated with her now. Kyle has always been more materialist and dramatic than me. It’s why I love he...usually. We’re different and yet find so many things in common.
Billie sits somewhere in the middle.
“Let her talk,” Billie says.
“There’s nothing much else to say. Colt is amazing. He hired the top of the Dufort Hotel, and we had a private dinner—”
Kylie dramatically falls to the floor, and people stare.
Billie starts giggling.
I can’t help it; I do, too.
“Get back up here, you dork.” I reach down and tug her up.
We share a smile.
Fine, I still love her.
“If you’re going to tell me he proposed, I’m going to need oxygen,” she warns and settles back on her stool.
“No. Shit no.” I shake my head. “We had dinner, talked, laughed, and then danced under the stars.”
My mind drifts back to last night, remembering how he held me, twirled me around so skillfully, feeling his strong muscular frame against mine.
“Then he carried me into the elevator.” Kylie lets out a moan. “And into his penthouse suite where he...destroyed me.”
“God...”
“With his enormous cock,” Kylie says, not even a question.
I nod slowly.
But it was way more than that.
Tell me it meant something. I need to hear you say it.
Why? I’d whispered as our foreheads touched.
So that I can take a piece of your heart home with me and keep it forever.
“How do you feel?” Billie asks, knowing how hurt I was when Simon cheated on me.
“I have no idea. I feel a million things. Happy. Sad. Confused. Stupid.”
“Stupid?” Kylie frowns.
“I shouldn’t have gone. A drink, maybe, but not sleeping with him. He’s...god, you guys, he’s amazing.”
Then I remember I haven’t told them everything.
“We’ve been talking for a while. A lot. More than I’ve admitted. Then I cut contact. Colt flew over because I wasn’t answering his calls.”
“I think this man might be in love with you.” Billie tilts her head, assessing. That’s what she does. She’s much more analytical than me and Kylie.
“Well, as much as I’m jealous as fuck, he does live in America, and you have a life here. A business,” Kylie shrugs. “So, I assume you both went into this knowing it was just for fun.”
Fun.
No, I never put a label on it. Sure, in the beginning, it was flirtatious fun. The messages, the secrecy of it. The late-night calls where I’d fall asleep to his voice.
I liked keeping Colt Winters all to myself.
Then I had an orgasm while he watched me on screen, and the intimacy of it scared me.
Last night that all changed.
He did take a part of me with him as he’d threatened, and I’m not okay. Every hour that separates us feels empty.
I hate feeling like this.
“Fun. Yes. Of course.” I nod too much, as if the idea of it being anything else was absurd.
Taking another big gulp of beer, I wonder if anyone would judge if I ordered more wedges.
And if Colt is thinking about me.