Chapter 32
Sutton’s eyes widened as nearly every female hand in the room shot up.
Including all the ladies from the barbecue last week.
Cheryl, Sutton noticed, looked like she had stepped out of a magazine.
Her outfit was perfectly coordinated without being flashy, posture confident but approachable, and the kind of age-appropriate, put-together vibe that made her Colter’s perfect match.
Jo nearly choked on her drink, elbowing Sutton sharply. “Do you see this? Every single hand! Every. Single. One!”
Vivi leaned over, a wicked grin on her face. “Not that you’re interested. But if that has changed you might want to put yourself out there before he gets snatched up.”
“More power to him,” Sutton said.
Lie number eight.
Sutton laughed softly, trying to mask the frantic flutter in her chest. The room was alive with energy, all eyes on Colter as Rea continued to hype him up, and Sutton realized just how ridiculous—and simultaneously terrifying—Bridlewood’s Ultimate Catch Night had become.
Rea's gaze slid to Sutton first. She had one brow lifted, just enough, in the particular way of a woman who already knew the answer and was giving someone the courtesy of pretending they had a choice.
We both know, the older woman’s look said. Go ahead and admit it.
Sutton's traitorous eyes cut to Colter before she could stop them. He was looking dead at her with something in his eyes she didn’t want to examine too deeply because it would force her to admit things she wasn’t ready to admit.
Something passed between them in the half-second before either of them moved—wordless and warm and entirely too honest for a room full of people. Her chest did the thing she'd been telling it not to do for weeks.
She looked back at Rea and gave a small, slow shake of her head like the liar she was.
Rea considered this for exactly one beat, lifted one elegant shoulder, then pivoted with the unhurried grace of a woman who had never once been deterred by a minor setback, and let her gaze settle on Cheryl instead.
“Ah, there she is! Confident, graceful, and clearly someone who knows exactly what she wants,” Rea declared, pointing dramatically. “Cheryl, my dear, you are the lucky winner tonight! If you accept.”
A collective sigh rippled through the crowd—the kind of disappointed groan that made Sutton’s chest tighten. Every hand had shot up, but somehow it had come down to Cheryl—the poised, perfect, untouchable Cheryl.
“I accept!” she called out and the women in the room applauded out of good sportsmanship—not because they were in favor of the decision.
Across the bar, unnoticed in the commotion, Lady Rea stepped down from the stage alone.
No fanfare or enthralled audience, just a seventy-something woman in silk and pearls setting her microphone down with the quiet satisfaction of someone who had done what she’d come to do.
Then her gaze found Sutton's again and this time her expression wasn’t the gleaming, mischievous look she aimed at grandsons, nor was it a performance. No, there was something underneath it—a confident look of a woman who had seen this particular thing before and recognized it on sight.
She didn't say anything. Just lifted her glass the smallest degree at Sutton, like a private toast, and looked away.
Sutton's chest pulled tight.
She thought about what Rea had told her at the barbecue—how she'd walked away from a title, an estate, and every expectation her family had ever placed on her shoulders, all for a rancher from Montana who smelled like horses and had no idea who she was.
How she'd never once said she regretted it and how she'd buried him in the soil he'd loved and stayed there after, because leaving felt like losing him twice.
Sutton looked at her now and felt something move through her that she didn't entirely want to define, because Rea hadn't done all that because it was easy.
She'd done it because she'd been brave enough to stop talking herself out of the right thing. Only, Sutton wasn’t that brave yet, she was very much still in the talking-herself-out-of-it phase.
She reached for her drink and found it empty, then decided that was probably a sign.
Colter’s eyes flicked to Cheryl, who was boldly waving around the room, and then—impossibly—found Sutton's for the third time that night.
That shaky, almost-embarrassed smile tugged at his lips, and something warm and terrifying spread through Sutton. Her stomach knotted, her heart raced, and suddenly, watching the rest of the spectacle felt impossible.
She could feel the tension coiling in her shoulders as the crowd’s cheers and groans faded into background noise. She’d spent too long staring at him, trying to read him, trying not to implode.
Finally, unable to endure it another second, Sutton shoved her chair back and stood. Her hands curled into fists at her sides, and without another word, she turned and made her way toward the back door, her pulse hammering in her ears.
She couldn’t stay. Not tonight. Not while her chest threatened to betray her with every beat.
Colter watched Sutton leave through the back, his stomach twisting in a way that had nothing to do with nerves. He started toward the exit when Cheryl stepped in front of him, smiling like she’d just won the lottery, but he barely registered her presence.
“Colter, I—” she started, voice polite and measured.
He raised a hand, forcing a tight smile. “I’m sorry, Cheryl. I need to step out for a minute. I’ll be right back, I promise.”
“Okay,” Cheryl said sounding confused and a bit hurt.
He’d seen the look on Sutton’s face. The flush of disappointment, the tight line of her mouth, the way her jaw clenched just enough to tell him what she was thinking without a single word escaping her lips.
And he couldn’t—wouldn’t—let her stew in that.
The moment Cheryl blinked in confused surprise, Colter pivoted and strode toward the back door. The cool night air hit him like a shock, and he broke into a jog before he even realized it.
Around the corner, he spotted her—Sutton, already at her car, hands fumbling with the keys, shoulders tense, hair catching the streetlight like fire.
“Hey,” he called softly, careful not to startle her.
Sutton jumped anyway, spinning around to face him, eyes wide.
“Colter,” she breathed, a mix of relief and exasperation in her voice. “What are you doing out here?”
He closed the distance between them in two long strides. “I couldn’t let you walk away like that.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line. “I wasn’t walking away. I just needed air.”
“Yeah?” His voice was edged with something warmer than frustration, softer than command. “You looked like you were about to suffocate in there.”
She didn’t move, just stared at him, chest still heaving, eyes bouncing between his.
“Okay,” he said, running a hand through his hair, trying to look calm, though he felt anything but. “I need to explain what that whole thing inside was.” He gestured vaguely toward the bar.
“You don’t need to explain anything,” she said quietly. “It’s all just fun and games.”
“It’s not a game. Not to me.” He forced the words, though they came out shaky.
“It was a setup. Kind of. Sort of. Nan orchestrated it. She told me it was just a comedy night at the bar. Nothing serious, nothing to do with dates, nothing to—” He stopped, exhaling slowly.
“Nothing to do with me being publicly—uh, well—paraded in front of every woman in town.”
Sutton’s lips twitched, and he gave her a side glance, seeing the beginnings of a smile. “You’re saying Lady Rea lied?”
“Not lied,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “She just didn’t tell me everything. And honestly, I get it. She’s trying to help, but I had no idea she’d orchestrate a whole thing like that.”
“So you’re not angry?”
“I’m not angry,” he admitted. “I’m impressed, honestly. And slightly terrified, because somehow, magically, you managed to ruin my composure in front of the entire bar without even touching me.” He paused, then added, softer, “And somehow I think I like it.”
Sutton shook her head, her fingers gripping the edge of the car door. “Colter. What about the what ifs? You know, everything that could go wrong. Us, Lynlee, the fallout if anyone in this town finds out.”
“Yeah, I know exactly what could go wrong. And that’s exactly why…” He hesitated, searching her eyes. Then his heart fractured when he found what he was looking for. “You want me to go on this date. Don’t you?”
“I’m not sure,” she said. “It’s not that I want you to go. I need you to. For our relationship, for the boundaries we’re trying to set, and for Lynlee.” She shook her head. “It’s for the best.”
“That’s a lie,” he said firmly.
Her lips pressed into a thin line, then she gave a slow nod. “It doesn’t matter. We can’t work. None of this changes that.”
Colter’s chest tightened. He wanted to argue, to pull her back and tell her she was wrong—but the time wasn’t right. He’d give her this reprieve for now.
He shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to appear calm. “What about the kiss?”
“It was just a kiss.”
Direct shot to his chest.
“Fine. I’ll go on this date, and you can pretend like you’re not affected underneath all that bravado. But you’re lying to yourself if you think this thing between us will go away.”