Page 69 of Colt

“Just the fact that he spent part of his day going for a joyride tells me everything I need to know,” Beck continues.

“It was Dean’s idea.” I don’t know why I’m being defensive. Maybe because Beck caught me off guard?

He cuts me a look. “But who really made it happen? Colton coulda easily told Dean no. I mean, he usually spends Sundays cleaning up his house and meal prepping for the week. I’m shocked he didn’t steer Dean in a different direction. My brother doesn’t interrupt his routine for just anyone. Matter of fact, only time I’ve seen him do what he did with you was when Dean broke his wrist back in preschool. Ran out of the barn like the place was on fire. Bad joke, because one of our barns did catch fire back in February⁠—”

“Really?” I say with a gasp.

He waves me away. “That’s another story for another day. But point being, Colt is a man of routine. Man’s always gotta be in control. He thrives in that kind of structure, you know?”

“Is he really thriving, though?” My curiosity is getting the better of me, but I can’t help it. Colton is an enigma I am apparently determined to figure out.

Beck thinks for a beat before responding. “He’s been in survival mode for so long… I’m not sure when that stops, but you’re not wrong in what you’re implying. Hard to tell what actually makes him happy and what he’s doing out of a sense of responsibility.”

Sounds familiar.

“That’s why I think he likes you,” Beck continues. “You had the courage to wake him up from sleepwalking through his day. Yeah, that’s gonna piss him off, but it’s also gonna turn him on.”

My turn to be diplomatic. Steering clear of that last part, I say, “Firstborn problems.” I take a long sip of whiskey sour, a buzz beginning to tingle in the backs of my knees. “I can relate. We put a lot of pressure on ourselves to take care of everyone else.”

Beck raises a brow. “Sounds like y’all might have more in common than we thought, huh?”

“Mmm…well, maybe.” More whiskey. I need it. “Do y’all—you and your siblings—are y’all always trying to set him up with anybody who comes into town, or…?”

Beck laughs, a sound that’s starting to become familiar. “Honestly? No. You’re special.”

“Because he hates me so much?”

“Yes.” Beck grabs a bar napkin and produces a pen from his pocket. “Don’t gotta tell you what’s on the other side of that coin, right?”

It’s easy to make this particular Wallace smile. Colton? Not so much. But maybe I also like a challenge.

He slips me the napkin. Only when I pick it up do I see the phone number written on it.

“Not mine. But his,” Beck explains.

I just stare at the numbers, my body throbbing with awareness.

I tell myself it’s just ten digits. Nothing more, nothing less. But the guy who those numbers belong to—if I typed them in, sent him a text…

What would happen? I feel like the ball’s in my court after he showed up Sunday morning. If I want to, ahem, keep doing whatever Colton and I are doing together, it’s on me to make the next move.

Why do you think you have a giant box of LEGO bricks in your trunk? I thought I’d invite Dean over to my place to play. But now I’m wondering…

I mean, do I show up at Colton’s house instead?

I’m being an idiot just thinking the thought.

But Colton showed up at my place, didn’t he? Why not return the favor? If nothing else, it will royally piss him off.

“I…um, thanks? Do you—would he—” I’m stammering like an idiot, my face hot. “I guess it’s good if I have it. For…emergencies.”

Beck grins. “Emergencies. Exactly. You might have some middle of the night⁠—”

“Beck.”

“Questions about the ranch.” A dimple pops in his left cheek as his smile grows. He holds up his hand. “Do with it what you want. But I’d be remiss if I didn’t keep the ball rolling. You know, on y’all’s professional relati—” Beck turns his head, and his eyes light up. “Cash Rivers, is that you? And Mollie! As I live and breathe, y’all.”

I glance over my shoulder to see a tall, mustachioed man walk into the restaurant behind a very pretty woman with long hair in a gold skirt and sweater.