“It’s not...” He stops and rubs a hand over his face.
I step into the kitchen and place my hands on his shoulders. Em stands beside us, eyeing me with caution, floor bacon dangling from the end of the tongs.
“Are you happy?” I ask him again.
He nods.
Em beams and lets out a little squeal. I grin and pull him in for a hug.
“Good.”
“That’s it?” Dad frowns as I release him. He steps back only to be squeezed from the side by Em.
“You want me to throw a tantrum? Tell you I hate you? That I’m never calling her Mom?”
“Colt,” Em scolds and glares at me.
Dad studies me, his mouth pressed in a firm line. “No. But I thought you’d have more to say than ‘good.’”
“Well, I’m not calling her Mom. So you know. But it’s been seventeen years. It’s about time you got laid.”
The room falls silent and we all stare at each other waiting for someone to react. It’s Em. She snorts and tries to hide it by slapping her hand over her mouth. Then Dad laughs and I relax, chuckling too.
He’s happy. That’s all I want. If another woman gives him that, then so be it.
Mom would want this. She’d hate him spending his life alone.
He’s been by himself for so long. When I was here, he was still alone, always worrying about me. He’s had no one to share his life with, his difficulties, struggles and dreams.
Now he does.
“Can we meet her?” Em asks, and I not-so-subtly kick her shin. “Ow!” She punches me.
I’m happy for him but I’m not sure if I’ll be able to handle seeing him with another woman.
Dad shakes his head, turning back to the stove to serve up breakfast. “I don’t think Colt is ready for that, sweetheart. We all know he takes a while to process his thoughts and feelings.” He gives me a side glare, again, like he’s in on a secret and I’m not. “Some feelings more than others.”
I frown, trying to make sense of what he’s saying.
Em glares at me and mutters something under her breath, shaking her head violently in Dad’s direction. I’m going out on a limb here and assuming she wants me to tell Dad I’d love to meet his girlfriend.
“I’d love to meet her.” I fake a smile and Dad grins. Nailed it. I mentally high five myself for pulling off a convincing smile and sincere words. Em should be proud.
“Well, okay. I’ll call her, and maybe we can do something before you have to get on the road and head home.”
Em bumps Dad out of the way and continues serving breakfast. “How about mini golf?”
20
Emerson
Colt, zero.
Emerson, one.
I laugh as Colt swings the putter like a baseball bat, sending the golf ball flying straight into the center of the windmill.
“He’s doing it on purpose. He’s taunting me!” he growls, jabbing the putter in the air at the windmill.
“He?” I snicker. “The windmill?”
“Yes. Look at him. Standing there, all tall and powerful. Oscillating blades and...”
“It’s a windmill. Relax.” I tap his cheek and write his score on the score card. He’s maxed-out every shot.
Colt shot down my idea of mini golf the second I suggested it. He wanted to play basketball. No surprise there. But now I understand why. He really sucks.
Mr. James was on my side and thought mini golf sounded like a fun way to introduce us to Jody.
Boy was he wrong. Poor Jody didn’t know what to expect with Colt’s first outburst after he released the putter mid-swing and it landed in the pond. He can be a little much to handle if you’re not used to him. It hasn’t taken her long to realize that Colt doesn’t mean to be rude or insensitive. He’s a little overpassionate about some things, like not losing.
Not that he cares what she thinks of him. But he cares how he reflects on his dad. He wants his dad to be happy, and judging by the way Mr. James looks at Jody, she makes him happy. His eyes twinkle, crinkling at the corners as he smiles every time she speaks. He listens to every word she says with rapt attention. Holds her hand and helps her over the obstacles in the golf course.
It’s sweet.
“They’re cute,” I say, nudging Colt with my hip and shoulder as Mr. James leans over Jody under the guise of helping her line up her next shot, though I’m sure she doesn’t need the help. They’re like teenagers.
Colt screws up his face. “It’s gross.”
“You’re jealous.”
“Of what?”
“You tell me. You’re the one who doesn’t enjoy seeing that.” I point to his dad laughing with Jody.
Colt frowns. “There’s something wrong when your father gets laid more than you do.”
“Whose fault is that?” I laugh.
He gives me a hard stare. “Yours.”
My eyes widen. “Don’t blame me. You can bang Jane’s brains out anytime you want.”
“Believe me, I’ve tried. Many times.” He walks around and comes to stand behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me against him. “But he has grown rather fond of you and only you.” His erection presses into my lower back.
“It seems so.”
Colt’s lips brush my ear, his hands sliding up and down my arms. “If there is to be any laying, it’ll be me and you.”
Heat floods my body at his words. Laying. Me. Him. My nerves are alight with excitement at the prospect. “You want to...” I stop, unsure if I can voice the question.
“Fuck you?” His voice rumbles, low, sending tingles down my spine, straight to my core. I clench my thighs.
“Yes.” My voice is a whisper. Too nervous, too afraid, too turned on.
He moans, his teeth biting into the top of my shoulder. “You have no idea.”
“Will you kiss me first?”
“No.” He skips away from me with a laugh.
Weirdly, I’m not hurt. I’m not disappointed. The fact he doesn’t want to kiss me means nothing.
“What’s taking so long?” Mr. James calls out, snapping me out of my daze and bringing me back to reality. Colt huffs out a breath. Mr. James and Jody are almost finished the course. “You’ve got a lot of balls and holes left to fill.”
Colt chokes, coughing and spluttering, and I bite my lip to stop from laughing. I’m sure Mr. James didn’t mean for it to sound so rude, but it did.
“Three,” Colt leans in and whispers before lifting his head and calling out to his dad. “Coming.”
“Three?” I count the number of holes left before we reach the end of the course. There’s six.
He drags his gaze over me, sending a tingle down my spine. “I can think of three holes I’d like to fill and none of them are on this course.”
“Three?” I count in my head, again. One. Two... Three.
Ohhh.
“Mmm-hmm.” He pinches his bottom lip as he surveys me. There’s a glint in his eyes, and I think I might let him do whatever he wants. Kiss or no kiss. He adjusts his shorts and moves to line up his ball. “How about a little wager?”