Chloe sucked in a breath as every nerve in her body told her to run. But run where? Into the pasture? Into the trees? Up the side of the mountain?
Colt didn’t seem the least bit alarmed. He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and led her up the steps. “It’s okay. It’s just Watson.”
She pulled back, his calm demeanor settling her nerves. “You have a studious sidekick living here who helps you solve crimes?”
“I wish.” Colt chuckled and pushed open the front door to let the golden retriever run excited circles around Chloe’s legs. She could tell the dog was barely controlling his yearning to jump as he sat in front of Colt and nudged his free hand. His whole doggy body seemed to radiate excitement, his bottom wiggling and his tail thumping happily against the wooden porch floor while Colt scratched his neck. “You’re a good boy,” he told the dog, then glanced back at her. “I guess he is a devoted sidekick, but I don’t solve many crimes, other than figuring out how a skunk got into Mom’s chicken coop last week. But I like the idea of you imagining me as a crime-fighting superhero.”
Oh, she was imagining it all right. He was totally a hero in her eyes—smart, muscular, compassionate, and someone who swooped in when she needed him. He was her Captain Cowboy.
He pushed past the dog and into the cabin. “Welcome to the bat cave. Although as a super-cool hero lair, it may leave a little to be desired.”
Chloe’s mouth dropped open as she stepped into the cabin and gazed around the room. It was all so gorgeous—from the cedar accents to the stone fireplace surrounded by river rock, to the French doors framing a scene out of a magazine as the moonlight and snowflakes glittered off a small pond. “I can’t think of a single thing left to be desired,” she breathed, caught up in the stunning home.
A proud grin snuck across Colt’s face, making the dimple in his chin pop, and she swallowed as she realized the single biggest desire of her heart was standing right in front of her. She shook her head, bringing her focus back to the house. “It’s wonderful, Colt. Did you do all this yourself?”
He shrugged. “A lot of it. Mason helped, and I hired out some of the really big stuff. But I did most of it, I guess.”
“I’m impressed.”
“Thanks.” He dropped her bag in the chair and set the cat carrier on the floor. A loud yowl of protest sounded from inside. “I think Agatha would like out.”
“Will Watson do okay with her?”
The golden was sniffing the metal bars of the carrier as he inspected its slightly miffed occupant.
“Oh sure. We have a ton of barn cats on the ranch. He’s around them all the time.” He patted the dog’s head. “He’s a pretty mellow dog. I don’t expect any trouble.”
“‘Mellow’ is not how I would describe Agatha.” She opened the carrier door, but the cat stayed inside.
“Why don’t we give her a little time to get used to the place?” Colt said, gingerly lifting the carrier. “I thought we could set up her stuff in the mudroom.” He led Chloe to a small room that held a washing machine and dryer. The walls were lined with pegs for coats and cubbies for boots and shoes. Several cowboy hats rested on the shelf above the coats. A utility sink sat behind the door, and the floor was tiled with sturdy linoleum.
The cat carrier had come with a travel litter box, and Chloe got it discreetly set up while Colt filled Agatha’s food and water dishes. She placed the dishes on top of the dryer to keep them out of the dog’s reach. Nothing like fixing up a place for your cat to poop to set a romantic tone.
Stop it. It didn’t matter if she was setting up a litter box or a jukebox. She wasn’t here for a romantic tryst. She was here because she’d been attacked and threatened by her neighbor’s crazy husband, and Colt was a good man who was giving her a safe place to stay for the night. He was acting like a friend, which was all he’d indicated he wanted to be.
They washed their hands, then left the cat and went back to the living room. “Can I get you something to drink?” Colt asked, detouring to the kitchen. “I’ve got soda, beer, coffee, or I could make you some hot tea. I’ve got Earl Grey.” He grinned, and a flutter crossed her stomach at the thought that they had an inside joke. It seemed like something a couple…er…a couple of friends would have.
“Hot tea sounds great. Can I help?”
He shook his head. “You could help by taking off your jacket and acting like you’re going to stay instead of looking like a scared rabbit that might dart out of here any second. You’re safe here. You can relax.”
Yeah right. Being able to relax around him had nothing to do with how safe she felt. It had more to do with how warm she felt observing the way his muscles flexed as he filled a mug with water and stuck it in the microwave. Maybe she would take her jacket off. Then find something to fan herself with.
The microwave dinged as Chloe took off her coat and hung it over Colt’s on a peg by the front door. Maybe the scent of his aftershave would seep into the fabric of her jacket. And maybe she would wear that jacket as pajamas so she could lie in bed at night and drift off to sleep pretending his arms were wrapped around her. Or maybe she should just quit having fantasies about sleeping with him.
She wandered into the living room and sank into the corner of the couch. He dropped a tea bag and a spoon into the mug and carried it in to her. She stirred the tea bag, letting it steep, then took a small sip as she watched him build a fire. He really was like a superhero in motion, the way his muscles flexed and the denim of his jeans tightened over his toned legs as he loaded the fireplace with stacks of wood.
What was wrong with her? She’d had a traumatic event happen to her earlier that night. She should be feeling more traumatized instead of lusting after the nice guy who’d just made her a cup of tea. This must be the way her body was processing the stress—by pretending it hadn’t happened.
Colt’s phone buzzed, and he took it from his pocket as he stood. The fire blazed behind him, and Chloe could already feel the warmth. Or maybe that was the heat in her cheeks as she imagined that Cole was getting a text from another woman.
He tapped the screen and sent a return text before dropping onto the sofa next to her. “That was Logan. He said he got Tina and the kids settled at her friend’s house, and he was headed home.”
Chloe had to stop her eyes from rolling at the pettiness of her suspicions. “That was really nice of him to take the time to do that.”
He shrugged. “That’s one of the best parts of living in a small town. We’re a community first, and we take care of each other.”
Was that what he was doing with her? Just offering her a friendly hand because she was part of his community? Because that’s what folks in small towns did for each other?
“I can’t begin to tell you the outpouring of support I got when I had my accident in high school. It was like the whole town came together to help me and my family.” He stared into the fire as if remembering that time in his life. “It especially helped my mom. I was in the hospital for weeks and physical therapy for months. My entire life changed in the span of four seconds. I lost my chance at a career in hockey, I lost the girl I thought I’d marry, and any plans for college scholarships went up in smoke. I was so angry and bitter about it that I was pretty much a jerk to everybody. But it didn’t matter. They all still helped.”
She suspected there was more to the story. Her ears had perked right up when he’d mentioned something about a girl he’d thought he’d marry. But a few things were starting to make more sense. “Is that why you’re always going out of your way to do nice things for people? To pay them back for helping you and your family?”
He lifted one shoulder. “I don’t know. Maybe. Although there aren’t enough favors for me to do that could ever truly pay them back.” His eyes cut to the fire again as he muttered, “Or to break the Colton Curse.”
“The Colton Curse? What does that mean?” He didn’t strike her as a guy who believed in the nonsense of some kind of curse.
“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head. “Forget I said anything. It’s stupid.”
“No, I want to know.” She started to reach out her hand, to rest it on his shoulder, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. The gesture was too intimate, too comfortable, and she was neither of those things with him. “It obviously isn’t stupid to you.”
“Look, some guys just aren’t meant to get it all. That’s just the way it is.”
“Do you think you’re one of those guys?”
“I know I am. I’ve been so close so many times, then just when I start to believe that things are all going to work out, they always end up slipping through my fingers.” He slapped his hands against his knees and cleared his throat. “Geez. This is depressing. Why are we talking about me anyway? You’re the one who went through some crazy stuff tonight. How are you doing?”
Sucking her bottom lip under her teeth, Chloe was tempted to press the issue, to get to the bottom of Colt’s idea of being cursed and try to convince him it wasn’t true. But what right did she have to try to convince him of anything? She was no one to him beyond a new friend. And they hadn’t been friends long enough for her to start digging too far into his psyche. She’d done that before with women friends and had it backfire in her face. No, better to steer clear for now. If he wanted to change the subject, it was okay. Starting an argument with him over his odd conviction wasn’t worth the risk of losing his friendship.
Even though the last thing she wanted to talk about was how she’d failed the Johnson kids tonight because of her own weaknesses. “I’m fine, really,” she told him.
He rested a hand lightly on her knee, and she swore she felt the heat of his skin through the fabric of her jeans. “I still can’t believe how brave you were tonight. Standing up against Rank Johnson… That took guts.”
She shook her head, the shame heating her skin as the memories of the night filled her mind. “Don’t say that. I wasn’t brave. I was a coward. I didn’t do anything. I tried to stand up to him, but I failed. When he grabbed my arm, I froze. I looked up at him and saw my father’s face, and I was like an injured animal caught in a trap. I couldn’t do anything. I got snarled in this ambush of the past and the present blending together, and I was useless.” She realized too late she’d let the mention of her dad slip out, and the shame burned hotter in her cheeks.
“Don’t worry,” Colt said, almost as if he could read her mind. “I figured it out when you cringed away from me like a caged rabbit. I wasn’t sure who’d hurt you, but I figured it was a parent from the way you were trying to protect those kids.” He squeezed her leg, his big hand practically covering her thigh. “You don’t have to be embarrassed in front of me. It’s not your fault. Men who hurt their wives and kids are cowards in my book. The blame rests solely on them.”
“I know. I understand that. My therapist has said the same thing. But it’s different when it’s your dad.” She swallowed back the emotion building in her throat. “If a stranger on the street backhanded you for spilling a glass of milk, you could fight back or feel hatred toward them. It’s different when it’s your dad, the guy you love, and in my case, the only parent I had left. You can call my dad a coward, and maybe he was, but he was also a good dad at times, when he wasn’t drinking. He had a great laugh and a zest for life. He made everything fun, and all I wanted to do was please him, to be a good girl who didn’t cause trouble, to keep my room clean and the house tidy, not to do anything that would make him angry.
“I think that’s what people don’t understand. When it was bad, it was very bad, but when it was good, it was wonderful. It made all the bad fade away, made a few bruises seem like a small price to pay. He’d go through periods where he’d attend AA meetings and pour all the liquor in our house down the drain. He’d hug me and swear he wasn’t going to drink anymore. But alcohol is like a cruel and heartless mistress. And my dad couldn’t stay away.”
For her father, the booze had been a seductress, and one who didn’t let her captives go easily. She’d show up in the worst of times and promise that she’d make everything better. Promise she’d make him forget.
Chloe offered Colt a thin smile. “No number of clean rooms or tidy kitchens could compete with something like that.”
Colt hadn’t said anything, just let her talk, and she wasn’t sure if he felt pity or compassion or horror at the thought that someone could say a man who abused them was also wonderful. She couldn’t look at him, afraid of the tears that were threatening would spill over if she saw the true emotion in his eyes.
As she was talking, Watson had come to sit next to her, and he rested his head on her knee. She rubbed her hand over his furry head and took comfort in his soulful brown eyes. Funny how she could so easily accept compassion from a dog, but was hesitant to receive it from a man.
“I don’t know why I just told you all that. I don’t ever talk about it. And the only times I have has been with my therapist and my cousin, Leann, who is like my best friend and was there when my dad had one of his episodes.”
Weird how they’d called it an “episode.” She wasn’t sure if she’d started that, or if it was her cousin. It was a terrible comparison. An episode made her think of a sitcom on TV, where a family might have trouble, but they solved it in thirty minutes with hugs and laughter and a few well-placed life lessons or jokes. That was nothing like what happened with her dad. There was no laughter, no jokes, no heartfelt hugs, not when her dad was snared deep in the arms of his mistress, when the dark clouds of depression and drink shrouded his mind. Then there was only fear, and yelling, and blame, and pain.
“Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me,” Colt said, his voice low and deep, and the timbre of it settled something inside her.
She let out a trembling breath. She did trust him. “I guess I wanted you to understand why I feel like I failed with those kids tonight. I’m an adult now, and I finally had a chance to stand up to my dad… Well, their dad, but you know what I mean.”
He nodded. “I get it. You wanted to protect them like you couldn’t protect yourself before. Or like you wished someone would have done for you.”
He did get it. She put her hand on top of his, gripping his fingers in hers, as she stared into his eyes, trying to make him understand. “Yes. Exactly. But I didn’t do that. I failed them—failed myself. I tried, I swear I did, tried to stand up to him, then he grabbed my arm, and I was a little girl again, terrified and frozen, and couldn’t do anything. How will those kids forgive me? How can I forgive myself?” She looked away, the humiliation tearing at her chest like a rat gnawing through her skin.
“Hey now, come on.” Colt scooted closer and tipped her chin up to look at him again. His brow creased as he held her gaze. “You’re being way too hard on yourself, darlin’. There is nothing to forgive. Those kids don’t see someone who failed them. They see someone who put herself in harm’s way to protect them. You took the focus of their father’s rage and put it on yourself instead of them. You took the pain so they didn’t have to. That isn’t being a failure, or someone who is weak. Those are the actions of someone brave and strong who puts the safety of others above her own. That’s what they see. That’s what I see.”
His words soothed her battered heart, touching a part of her that she normally kept locked away. She wanted to believe him, to see herself through his eyes, but it was hard to shake the years of being told she was worthless.
“Thank you,” she whispered, not even realizing she was leaning toward him until he pulled her into his arms. She rested her head on his broad chest and inhaled the clean scent of laundry detergent on his shirt.
He rubbed his hand over her back. “I hate the idea that someone put their hands on you and that you were scared. I know a few self-defense techniques I could show you, and maybe you’d feel stronger if you ever run up against him or someone like him again.”
“I’d like that. But why did you need to learn self-defense techniques? In case you were attacked by a cow?”
He chuckled. “No. If I get attacked by a cow, I use the ‘run like hell’ technique. But I’ve done some training with the sheriff’s department so I can help out as a volunteer deputy when we have big events or at the county fair.”
She pulled back and looked up at him. “You are a volunteer fireman, a volunteer deputy, and you run a snowplow for the city. Is there anything you don’t do?”
He lifted one shoulder. “I don’t know. I told you I like to help, and I like to be proficient in a lot of different skills.”
Oh boy. She couldn’t let that one just sit out there without making some kind of comment. Her talent for flirting left a lot to be desired, but he’d plunked that one right out in the middle of the lake, and she couldn’t resist at least reaching for the bait.
She lowered her voice and might have batted her eyelashes a couple of times. “So are you proficient in a lot of different skills?” Her voice was huskier than she’d planned, the desire and nervousness mixing together to tighten in her chest.
He raised an eyebrow as a slow, roguish grin pulled at the corners of his mouth. “I like to think so, but it never hurts to brush up on my technique. They say practice makes perfect.”
Rev. Rev. Her lady-part engines had just turned over, and fuel burned like fire through her veins. She wanted to say something back, some cute, teasing remark, but her mouth had gone dry and her brain refused to feed her any words as Colt’s gaze cut to her lips.
What the hello am I doing? She’d tried to act like she was experienced at this—throwing down the flirting gauntlet like she was some kind of siren. And he’d picked it up and taken her dare. She licked her lips and swallowed back a nervous giggle.
The setting couldn’t be more perfect—the fireplace sending a warm glow into the dim room, the snow falling outside the window, Colt’s arm already around her waist. All she had to do was lean in…but she’d done that before. She’d practically thrown herself at him at the ice rink, and he’d pulled away.
What if she was misinterpreting this whole thing…again? She needed to let him take the lead, make the first move. She couldn’t breathe, like there was literally no air coming into her lungs.
He leaned closer, his grip tightened on her waist. Her heart threatened to pound through the wall of her heaving chest. This was it. This had to be it. He was going to kiss her. Please, please, for the love of gobstoppers, let him kiss me.
Desire swirled and tumbled in her stomach, and she prayed she didn’t throw up. She parted her lips in anticipation…and yawned.