Quinn

 

The following morning, I’m a little slow getting ready for work. I hadn’t slept well last night, but that’s because I couldn’t stop my brain from reliving my conversation with Colt.

Every time I think of Colt finding me attractive, my stomach flutters. It’s exhilarating to know, and somehow, the world seems much brighter this morning. My concerns over Slade have virtually faded as new thoughts take up residence inside my head.

I keep reminding myself that the mutual attraction can’t go anywhere. Colt’s too set in his ways, and I know he’d never make a move on me. At least I know I’m not alone with these feelings, and that helps.

After I shower and change, I spend extra time on my makeup before grabbing my purse and heading to the kitchen.

Colt’s there.

His presence is nothing new since most mornings we tend to leave the house around the same time. He’s sitting at the island, dressed casually in jeans and a tee, his duffle bag on the floor. His eyes lift to mine.

Oh damn.

I would give anything for those hazel eyes to be looking into mine as his body rhythmically dances between my thighs.

His eyes narrow as if he can sense the direction my thoughts have taken.

I quickly store my naughty thoughts for later. “Morning,” I say lightly, moving to the refrigerator. I scan the items with my initials on them. After a moment, I pick up a plastic container and open the lid, sniffing the contents. It’s a leftover chicken sandwich from the other day. It smells okay. With a shrug, I grab a plate from the cupboard and dump the sandwich on it before popping it into the microwave.

“What the hell is that?”

I turn to look at Colt as the microwave hums behind me. “Half a chicken sandwich.”

“For breakfast?”

“Hey, it’s still edible.”

I don’t bother to deny it. “It’s easy to do with my metabolism. And ideal since I don’t cook,” I add. Cooking is beyond my capabilities. I know, that sounds terrible. But seriously, I have a habit of charring everything I try to make.

Colt shakes his head. “You choose not to cook.”

The microwave beeps, and I turn and remove the plate. After I grab a bottle of water, I take a seat at the island.

Colt’s just finishing his eggs. He pushes aside his plate and looks at me with those striking eyes of his. “I wanted to talk to you before you leave.”

“Okay.” I take a big bite of my sandwich, and my mouth instantly begins to sting. I quickly spit my food out onto my plate. “Holy fuck!” I grab the water bottle and quickly chug it to cool the skin inside my mouth.

Colt just watches me, saying nothing.

He sighs. “You’re a walking disaster.”

It’s not the first time he’s called me that, but today, the comment hurts. I know he hadn’t meant anything by it, so I avoid his gaze and reach for the water again, taking another long drink. This isn’t who I want to be.

“Hey,” Colt says quietly, sensing his comment hadn’t bounced off me like it typically does.

I’m about to respond when Channing enters the kitchen, looking alert and freshly showered. “Morning,” he greets.

While he prepares his breakfast, he carries on a conversation with us. Well, mostly me. Colt tends to just sit back and listen.

When I note the time, I rise to my feet and stash my plate in the dishwasher. Colt follows suit, and after we say our goodbyes to Channing, we exit the house. I pull out my keys, heading for my car.

“Quinn, wait.”

Colt’s voice brings me to a halt, and I turn to look at him, admiring how the sunlight shines across his handsome features.

A dark brow lifts. “You don’t want to know about last night?”

“I just want to forget about him.” My eyes drop to his knuckles, no scabs. “It didn’t end in bloodshed, so that’s good.” Honestly, I’ve been more distracted over our ‘mutual’ attraction.

“That’s because he moved.”

I blink at the unexpected news. “He did? That’s great,” I say with relief.

“No, it’s not,” he corrects. “He gave a false name to his employer, and now he’s disappeared.”

I shrug, not really caring. “He could have left town.”

He gives me a long, deliberate look. “Then why go through all the trouble to stalk you?”

“Colt, I just want this over with,” I say with exasperation.

“So do I, but I have a feeling this is far from done. You need to be careful,” he advises.

“I’m not putting my life on hold for that freak,” I say adamantly.

“I’m not asking you to. Just be careful,” he reiterates.

“Okay.”

He nods. “Later,” he says, walking away to his truck.

I climb into my car, frowning. Now that Colt knows everything, a lot of my concerns have faded. Truthfully, I’d been more upset over coming clean to Colt than Slade’s actual threats. He can’t destroy my relationship with Colt, and that’s the one thing I hold dear. What else can he do? Follow me around and annoy me?

He’ll grow bored with time.