At Whit's End (Wells Ranch, #4)(84)

“Told you so.” Her eyes are hooded and drowsy.

“You can tell me what to do anytime.”

“Careful what you wish for.”

Without pulling out, I hold on to Whit until our breathing has turned shallow and calm, and I realize I’m still rocking against her like small waves lapping on a lakeshore. At this point, the small jolts of pleasure are almost relaxing. By the time I slide out of her, we’re both on the verge of falling asleep.

Taking her hand, I guide her to the ensuite bathroom, and we enjoy a luxurious, soapy shower together. I hold her in my arms, wash her delicately with a vanilla-scented body wash that further softens the edges of my vision. And we tumble into bed with a loose promise that I’ll disappear before Jonas wakes up, neither of us wanting to spend the night apart.





Whit


Half-asleep, I smooth my hand over the sheets to his side of the bed, hoping to feel Colt’s warm body. Expecting to open my eyes to the warm sun trickling in through the window, and his lopsided grin staring at me, ready to greet me as he always does.

My eyes open, blinking to adjust to the daylight, and I turn my head to confirm what my hand has already discovered.

No Colt.

Honestly, damn that man for following through with his promises. Sure, I would’ve rolled my eyes and made a comment about our agreement that he was leaving before Jonas woke up. But then I’d pepper him with kisses and maybe have a quickie before trying to sneak him out as quietly as possible.

Last night feels like a dream. The drive-in theater? Stargazing? The sex?

I shut my eyes, easily able to draw him from memory. I never expected to be with someone like him—so funny, charismatic, sweet, smoking hot. If I could eat every meal off his body, I’d be one happy lady.

And for him to want me just as much, if not more, than I want him? Insanity.

I thump my open palm against the empty spot in annoyance. I hate that I wish he’d broken my rules and stayed. I hate that I can still feel him between my legs while I’m lying in an empty bed. And it’s not because I feel used, like I often do following a night with Alex.

I want Colt here. I want to fall asleep in his arms and wake up to him kissing me good morning. At the very least, I want to wake up to the smell of fresh coffee and know he’s downstairs.

I roll over to grab my phone, and my stomach flip-flops at the juxtaposition of text messages awaiting me.


Colt: Good morning, beautiful.

When was the last time I received a good morning text from a guy? I guess Alex…when we were about seventeen years old.

Speaking of which…In a ruthless strike of kismet, there’s another notification taunting me.


Alex: Hey, Fern and I want to take Jonas to the fall fair.

I could scream into my pillow. The last time I talked to Alex, he was throwing it in my face that Jonas had gone to his house instead of coming home. And while I’ve always prided myself on being the type of parent who never keeps my son from his father, I think I can make an exception this time.

I shove my phone under the pillow and sit up with a stretch that turns my spine into something that sounds and feels an awful lot like popping bubble wrap.

With that, the doorbell rings.

I squeeze my eyes shut tight for a second, then haul myself out of bed and slip into an old, comfy robe. Something to hide the way my nipples show right through the dusty pink cami I slept in. On my slow journey to the front door, I perk my ears when I pass Jonas’s door. Naturally he’s still sleeping, which means Colt could’ve stayed for morning sex, and I would’ve been in a much better state of mind to read Alex’s text message.

I run my hand through my hair, shuffling across the floor, kicking shoes and a random puffy coat—why there’s a coat lying in the middle of the floor this time of year, I don’t know.

When I pull the front door open, my heart nearly leaps from my chest. Colt’s standing there, with sexy bedhead and the same clothes he wore last night, holding a tray of coffee cups and a large pink box.

“Hey, Mama.”

Without stopping to consider whether Jonas might catch us, I move into him, placing my palms on his firm chest.

And I kiss him. Recklessly. Lovingly.

One by one, the rifts in my heart are being carefully mended, secured with twine tied off with a square knot.

“What are you doing here?” I finally have the thought to ask.

His eyes cut from mine to the coffee and back. “Bringing breakfast…”

My voice falters. “What about Jonas?”

“My truck’s at the shop up the road. Figured you guys wouldn’t mind a visitor while I wait.”

I smile, cautiously accepting the pink box from his outstretched hand. He’s good. So fucking good. “Definitely better than having to hang around at the mechanic’s.”

He kicks his shoes off, scanning the room for Jonas before kissing my temple. “Good morning, beautiful.”

My head tips, encouraging the slow trailing of kisses down my neck. “Mmm. I like it better in person than over text.”

“Wanted you to wake up with a smile.”

“It worked.” Until I saw the text from Alex. But for a second while lying in bed, I was on top of the world.

His hand slides down to gently pat my butt, and I kiss him one last time before leading the way to the kitchen. And he’s right back on me again, cupping a hand under my chin to hold me still as he kisses my lips and nose and forehead and cheeks. Tiny pecks that give way to a scorching heat in my core.