by Stacy Finz
“Did she write it about you, Colt?”
The clock on his dash ticked away while he contemplated how to respond. “Not exactly. It’s a little more complicated. I don’t talk about it.”
“I got that impression.”
Then why the hell did you ask? “You got an early morning?”
“It’s already morning, but no. Unless I’m making cargo pants, I usually just stare at a blank sheet of my sketch pad.”
“It’s still not happening, huh?”
“Nope,” she said. Like he didn’t want to talk about “Crazy about You,” she plainly didn’t want to talk about designing. “So what was that last song you sang? It sounded like an old Irish folk song, yet vaguely familiar.”
Probably because he’d been playing it a lot. Living so close, she might’ve heard him tinkering with the chords.
“‘Galway Girl’?” he said. “It was written by an American, Steve Earle, and released in 2000. You like it?”
“It was my favorite.”
Their eyes met and in a low voice, he said, “The girl in the song looks like you.”
“She does?”
“Mm-hmm.” Unable to resist, he leaned over and kissed her on the lips. Closed mouth and tentative to test the waters. She didn’t pull back, so he went in for more, pulling her closer. The gear shift was in the way, making it awkward. And uncomfortable. But he was all about perseverance. And he wanted her to the point of being stupid. In fact, his mind had completely disengaged. Right now, his cock was doing the thinking, and unfortunately he was okay with that.
“She has black hair and blue eyes,” he said against her mouth. “Beautiful . . . like you.” So beautiful, she made his pulse race. “I’ve been thinking about this since that first kiss.”
She twined her arms around his neck and tugged him in for more. “Aren’t you breaking your hometown rule?”
“Yep,” he whispered as he nibbled on her earlobe and worked his way down to the nape of her neck. “Colossally bad idea.”
“But you’re ready to throw caution to the wind?” she asked, as his lips moved over her throat.
“More than likely I’m getting fired anyway. May as well go out with a bang.” Probably a bad choice of word. He blindly reached for the ignition and shut off the engine.
“Wow, you really know how to romance a girl.” She arched her neck, giving him better access.
He grinned against her soft skin, enjoying the back and forth. She made him work for it, which he usually didn’t have to do with women. “Hey, I took you to the Four Seasons and to the Indian place . . . had you over for wine.”
“Should we do it in the cab of your truck?” Her hands moved down his arms, making his stomach contract.
“I prefer a bed.” He couldn’t tell how serious she was, but they were both pretty worked up from the kissing. “Too old for trucks.”
“You looked pretty limber this morning at the kayak races.”
“If it means that much to you.” He played with the front of her blouse, grazing her breasts with his hands. “You sure you’re not drunk?”
“I’m sure.”
“Good.” He fumbled with the buttons. Although they both possessed way more finesse than teenagers, he felt like he was back in high school when everything was new and fresh and so damn exciting that it made his heart stop and his palms sweat.
“Hang on a sec.” He restarted the engine and pulled the truck into their disputed parking space. It was a little more private. “Where were we?”
“Here.” She launched herself over the gear shift and climbed into his lap, straddling him.
He slipped his hands down the back of her jeans, pressed her against his erection, and resumed kissing her into next Tuesday. “You feel so good.”
His hands moved over something silky. Panties, a thong, the tail of her shirt; he wasn’t sure. Wanting to get her pants off, he fumbled with her zipper. But it was impossible in such tight quarters. Damn, he used to be better at this. “Delaney, honey, let’s take this inside.”
“Don’t. Want. To. Move.” She rocked against him until he thought he would go off like a fire hydrant.
He managed to get his door open and lift her out of the cab. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he practically ran up her deck stairs because her house was closer.
“Keys.” He stuck his hand out.
“I left them in my purse in your truck.”
“Shit.” He ran back with her still in his arms, her giggles loud enough to wake the whole neighborhood. “Shush.”
He opened the door, juggling her with one arm as he reached across the seat and grabbed the handbag.
“Wow, you’re strong,” she said.
She didn’t weigh that much and he didn’t want to let go of her. Not even for a second.
He threw the purse at her. “Hurry up and find your keys.” Otherwise he was going to take her on the hood of his Ford.
“Got ’em.” She giggled some more.
He jogged back, turned the key in the lock, carried her over the threshold, and kicked the door closed with his foot. Mounting the stairs, he asked where her bedroom was. He’d only been inside her studio.
“Go left,” she said when they got to the landing.
He backed her against the hallway wall and kissed her long and hard. Desperate to get her clothes off ... to get inside her. “Foreplay next time, okay?”
She moaned something indecipherable. He took it as she was good with him going straight to the main course and got her into the bedroom, where he stripped off her clothes as quickly as he could. His eyes glided over her body, slowly taking her in. Jesus, she was gorgeous. Full, firm breasts, flat belly, curvy hips, and legs that wouldn’t quit. As far as he knew he didn’t have a foot fetish, but for some bizarre reason her toenails—pink this time—made him harder than a concrete wall. She went for his belt and he pushed her hands away, afraid he’d come before he even got his pants off. That hadn’t happened since Lucy Singleton had let him get to third base behind the pump house at the lake. He’d been fifteen and still couldn’t look at her without remembering the humiliation.
“Please,” Delaney said, the word coming out in a single breath.
He groped with his buckle, got it undone, and pushed his jeans down, managing to kick them off without tripping over his own legs. Impatient, she got up on the bed on her knees and tugged his shirt over his head. He shucked his shorts and stood over her, naked, his hands itching to touch her breasts. She pulled him down onto her frilly comforter and he mounted her.
Remembering protection, he hung off the edge of the bed and searched the floor for his pants. In the back pocket he found his wallet and a condom. She practically ripped it out of his hand and opened the foil package with her teeth. Before she could put it on him, he tore it away. If she touched him, it would be over before it started. Colt sheathed himself and let his hands wander over her body, wanting to feel every inch of her and weigh her breasts in his palms.
Her skin was soft and smelled like expensive perfume, flowery but not overly sweet, a scent he’d come to know as purely Delaney. She had on fancy underthings, which he planned to pay more attention to later. Right now all he could think about was getting inside her, feeling her supple body underneath his.
She moaned as he kissed the inside of her thighs, spreading open for him. His fingers explored, finding her wet and ready. In one swift motion, he entered her. She adjusted herself so that he could go deeper and he about lost his mind.
“Jesus, Delaney.”
“It’s been a while.”
He slowed his pace and framed her face with his hands. “You okay?” He started to pull out but she stopped him.
“I’m fine.... It’s so good.”
“Good” was a freaking understatement. “I’ll go slow for a little while.” Colt was happy just to be enveloped in her warmth and to hear her sweet little moans of pleasure.
He kissed her, darting his tongue in her mouth to the rh
ythm of his strokes. God, she was so responsive, her body arching to accommodate him. He sucked her breasts, licking her nipples, and she shivered.
“Colt?”
“Hmm?”
“Faster now, please.”
He quickened the pace, pumping in and out, his hands kneading her firm ass, pulling her closer. She wrapped her heels around his back and he increased the tempo until he felt her clench and shudder, calling his name.
That’s when he let himself go, taking his release, which seemed to go on forever. He lay there for a few minutes, trying to catch his breath, trying to figure out what had just happened.
“You still alive?” He peeked under his arm at Delaney, who wasn’t moving.
“Just barely,” she said, her face flushed and her hair a wild mess. She was so unbelievably beautiful it made his chest hurt.
He rolled off her but she reached for him. “Not yet.”
He wrapped her in his arms and cradled her head against his chest. And for a while they lay there silent, alone with their thoughts. He didn’t know what had just happened, but it had been better than good. Hell, it had been a tsunami. A volcano. An avalanche.
He let his eyes roam over her breasts, hips, and legs, taking in all he’d missed during their frenzied sex. She quickly tugged the blanket over her in a sudden show of modesty, which he found hilarious. Too late for that, sweetheart.
He rolled over and swung his legs over the side of the bed.
“Where are you going?”
He glanced at the clock. “It’s closing in on three a.m. Home to get some sleep.”
“Oh.” One word, but she sounded disappointed.
He sat on the edge of the mattress, feeling guilty. “You want me to stay?”
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought . . .”
“Let me get rid of the condom.” He found the master bath, which wasn’t hard to miss. It was the size of his old San Francisco apartment. The towels were so fancy he was afraid to dry his hands on them.
He finished up and got back in bed with her. She was still sitting there, propped against the pillows, looking a little shell shocked.
“Delaney, was this a mistake?”
“Not for me. Was it for you?”
Probably. But regretting mind-blowing sex wasn’t in his DNA. He reached over and took her hand. “What’s on your mind, then?”
“Do you think it was a fluke?”
“What? Us sleeping together?”
“How good it was?”
He cocked his head to the side. “Only one way to find out.”
Chapter Sixteen
When Delaney woke up Colt was gone. She looked over at her bedside clock. Ten-thirty and, based on the drizzle of sunshine streaming through the spaces between the drapes, already a scorcher. She grabbed a robe from the back of her closet door and padded into the hallway, hoping to smell fresh coffee brewing. No such luck.
He must’ve gone home for breakfast, or more sleep, and disappointment kicked her in the chest. Stop being needy, she told herself. But the night had been so wondrously perfect that she didn’t want it to end. They’d had sex twice more, each time better than the last. Colt Garner knew his way around a woman’s body, not to mention that he had the stamina of a bull. She supposed it was all that kayaking, climbing, and skiing. The one criticism she had was that she never knew what he was thinking. He’d been complimentary enough—telling her that she was beautiful or that he liked this or that—but when it came to any real emotions, he was a brick wall. Impenetrable. Frustrating because she couldn’t get a read on the guy. Was their morning together just sex or the start of something real?
She went into her studio and peeked behind the shade. His truck was parked where he’d left it and his squad car sat at the top of his driveway. Unless someone had picked him up or he’d gone for a run—which she knew he did a lot—he had to be home. She considered calling him and asking if he wanted to have coffee on the deck. Too clingy, she decided.
He’s the one who left, therefore it’s up to him to make the next move, Delaney told herself. She went downstairs, started a pot of coffee, and showered while it brewed, planning to spend her day sketching. At least it would keep her mind off Colt.
She brought a pad with her into the kitchen and doodled while she waited for her bread to toast. Crazy, but she had an idea for a fleece turtleneck with thumbholes to keep the sleeves down and stretch panels on the arms for extra flexibility. She’d seen something similar while researching cargo pants and thought she could improve the design, make it a little splashier. Evidently the shirt was for hiking or bouldering, whatever the heck that was.
A weird idea had recently formed in her head—to fill her creative void with a few adventure wear designs that would at least keep what few investors she had and the fashion press at bay. She could say that living in Glory Junction had inspired her to do a fun line of athletic clothing. Hell, if Vera Wang could do bedsheets, why couldn’t she do sports attire? She could beta test the pieces with Garner Adventure.
By four, she’d finished a few promising drawings and was just about to work on the patterns when the phone rang. Her pulse quickened until she saw it was Hannah.
“Hi,” she answered, wondering if Hannah knew about her and Colt, then mentally chiding herself for being ridiculous. How could she possibly know unless Colt went blabbing, which was patently absurd. The man was about as close lipped as an underworld spy.
“Want to meet us at the diner for an early supper?”
“Sure.” It would be good to get out of the house, get some exercise and fresh air. “Do I have time to walk?”
“Absolutely. We’ll meet you there at five.”
She changed out of her shorts into a pair of leggings and a linen tunic from her summer collection, slipped on a pair of flats, and shoved her sketch pad into one of her oversized Delaney Scott handbags. On her way out, she checked the driveway again. Colt still hadn’t moved his truck. Maybe he was catching up on his sleep.
She walked to the restaurant, glad that the festivities from the End-of-Summer events were over and that the tourists were on their way home. The town got a little cramped with all those people, though she supposed it was a boon for local businesses. As she strolled down Main Street, she ran into Boden.
“Good show last night, huh?”
“Fantastic,” she said. “You have a lot of cleanup?”
“We got most of it done last night, so not too bad. Is Colt recovered?” He’d evidentially seen them leave the bar together.
“I don’t know.” Delaney looked away, hoping she hadn’t turned red.
“The guy works too hard, needs to let loose every once in a while.”
Oh, he’d let pretty loose, all right. “Mm-hmm. I’m meeting friends at the diner so I better get going. Have a good evening.”
“See you, Delaney.”
She was the first to arrive at the Morning Glory and got a table for four, not sure if Deb and Foster were joining them. Felix, the owner, waved to her from the kitchen window, and for the first time Delaney felt like a bona fide local. She hadn’t realized it until now but she’d always seen herself as a vacationer, albeit one who had come to hibernate for the winter and had never left. But somehow she’d become part of the community to the point where people recognized her beyond being “that famous fashion designer.” In fact, her professional success had become a footnote instead of her entire identity, which she rather liked.
“Hey, sorry I’m late.” Hannah sounded out of breath. “I got a customer who wanted to buy out the store five minutes before closing. I shoved the cash register in the safe, locked up, and ran the half block. Deb and Foster aren’t here yet?”
“Just me . . . and now you. So sales are good, huh?”
“End-of-Summer packs ’em in and we made a killing. It starts all over again in November, especially if we get snow. I’m certainly not complaining. What’s going on with you? Colt get you home okay?”
“I want one of these.” Deb came up behind Delaney’s chair and pointed to the fleece turtleneck. “I love it, especially in stripes. I’ve never seen a rock-climbing shirt like that. Foster can’t come; he’s dealing with another bridezilla.”
Hannah took the pad and examined Delaney’s drawings. “Wow, you’re going in a totally different direction.”
“Those are just for fun . . . a placeholder until I get my groove back. Besides, lots of designers have a sideline, something different from their usual bag of tricks.”
“I like it,” Hannah said. “Josh wears this stuff all the time and it’s dull as dirt. Yours has pizazz.”
“I’m wondering if it’s too much. Clearly, the clothes are monochrome and drab for a reason. I just don’t know what that reason is.”
“The reason is that unimaginative men design them,” Deb said. “A little pattern is fun, and I like what you did with the sleeves ... very practical.” She took the pad from Hannah and turned the page to a ski jacket Delaney had designed. “Now this ... Can I put my name on a list for one of these?”
Thrilled that Deb liked the designs, especially because she was the target consumer, Delaney said, “Really? You’re not being nice because I’m your friend?”
“I don’t ski or climb anything higher than my stairs and I’d wear all that stuff.” Hannah pointed at the sketchbook. “And I’m one-hundred percent positive that my customers would too. But if you want I could show them to Josh. Although now that you and Colt are friends, you could show them to him. He’ll tell you the truth. Just don’t show TJ or he’ll start up again about you working with Garner Adventure.”
A waitress came to take their order and she and Deb complained about Felix for a while. They made him out to be quite a taskmaster, but given that the two women whined about him right under his nose, Delaney figured he must be a decent boss. According to the scuttlebutt, he’d been a champion snowboarder, injured himself in the half-pipe event in the 2010 Olympics, and could no longer compete. He’d moved to Glory Junction for the slopes and bought the diner to support himself.