Colt woke early, longing.

He’d dreamt that he’d had Rose, that they were naked together in his bed, him on top. That he moved with perfect timing, thrusting in a way that made her moan.

That her hands clawed his back, her core fluttering in the way that told him she was about to come. The look of ecstasy on her face as she writhed beneath him, desperate…

And then he woke up.

Hard as fucking steel, he put a pillow over his face and shouted his frustrations into it.

He’d masturbated last night… twice. Just to settle down enough to sleep, he’d needed to think of her riding him, of him fucking her until she called out his name over and over.

And the second time just the same, but slower.

It was like she was an enchantress, working her magic on him. Except her spell was just being herself, no matter how awkward.

He got up and took an icy shower, which managed to dampen his libido enough that he could comfortably put on pants. He dressed quickly, cursing the fact he had to go help her today.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to help, it was all the other things his traitorous body wanted to do that made him miserable.

If he was ever going to have a chance in hell of having Rose, she was going to have to come to him. She was going to have to desire him, say that she wanted him.

Otherwise… a few more days of free labor, and he was done.

He was in a sour mood all the way to Rose’s. His missing foot ached and tingled, like a phantom limb. He kept tapping it against the truck’s brakes, the sensation the only way he could remember that his foot was gone.

When he got to the clinic, Rose was already there. She turned and smiled when she saw him. “Hey.”

He wanted to pull his current mood around himself like a thick blanket, hide in it, but it wasn’t her fault. Or mostly not, anyway.

Plus, there was the fact that she was wearing a pair of very short denim shorts. Probably borrowed from Shelby, they showcased her legs in a mile-long stretch of suntanned skin. It was really fucking hard to be mad at those legs.

“Hey,” he said. “I figured I’d set up the paint sprayer today.”

“Okay. I’m done painting inside, so now it’s just the finishing touches, I guess.”

“All right. I think we’re almost done with the whole thing,” he said, shading his eyes as he gave the little building a once-over. “I suspect that you have some stuff to move in, but other than that…”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “Finally, huh?”

“I guess,” he said with a shrug. “I’m gonna get the paint sprayer.”

Colt got the sprayer out of his truck and filled it up. He took his time taping off the building and spraying the outside.

He could feel eyes on his back as he worked, but every time he turned around it was just Rose. Coming outside to get something from her car, or emptying a trash can. Normal worksite stuff, only way more frequent.

Still, there was a lot of staring going on from her end. The devilish side of him wanted to test her, to take off his shirt again, see how she’d react. He decided against it, though.

She’s got to come to me, he chided himself.

He finished all four walls just as the sun was beginning its descent. Colt stood back to view his handiwork from the driveway, drinking a bottle of water.

“Is it done?” she asked, sticking her head outside.

“Think so.”

She came out to stand with him, admiring the building while he tried to not admire her legs.

“It looks amazing.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So, listen…”

He looked up at her, confused by her change in tone.

“Yeah?”

Her cheeks blazed bright red.

“There’s this thing, this country western night, at The Speckled Hen tonight. I was wondering if you wanted to be my date. Like, Shelby will be there, but I thought you might want to come.”

His brows rose. “As friends?”

“As… whatever.”

He stared at her, and she squirmed.

Does this count as her coming to me?

“Sure,” he said.

“I’m going with Shelby, like I agreed to get ready with her, but I thought you could meet me there.”

His lips twitched, finding her stammering explanation endearing. “All right.”

“Good. I, uh… I better get going, then,” she said, running back to the building to lock up.

Colt loaded up the paint sprayer, waving to Rose as she left.

He had a date. Better yet, he had a date that she’d made.

He smiled, his sour mood officially over.