“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, but I’m pretty sure that Colton Hayes wouldn’t spit on me if I was on fire.”
“I don’t believe that.” Daisy shakes her head. “And I don’t think you do either. Not really.”
I sigh and head toward the door. “Good night, Daisy-Mae.”
“G’night.”
I leave the bed-and-breakfast and close the door. For a moment, I just stand there, trying to ignore her words, and then movement from the cabin at the end of the row catches my eye. Colt stands on his front porch, sipping a beer, his boots crossed at the ankles as he leans his muscular body against the railing. He watches me intently as I walk the paved path toward the cabin.
He doesn’t move, just scrutinizes me with one brow raised as I come closer. “You need somethin’, Lemonade?”
“Why are you livin’ here?”
“What’s that now?”
“Why are you livin’ here?” I say slowly, as if he were hard of hearing. “What happened to your daddy’s house?”
“I sold it when he went into care. Look, I don’t know why you’re ridin’ my ass all of a sudden, but we ain’t together anymore. I’m a free man, so I don’t think I need to tell you anything.”
“I just … it can’t be the money, because the last time I looked at the ranch’s books, we’re making more than enough to cover all of the staff, keep the animals in feed, and build a nice little nest egg for me and my brothers. Which means with the money from your daddy’s house and your salary, you must be doing okay for yourself. So why aren’t you livin’ in town?”
“I like the quiet.” He takes another sip of his beer and arches a brow. “It’s usually very peaceful here.”
“At a bed-and-breakfast?”
He shrugs. “My neighbors are different every week. You know what they say about a change being as good as a holiday. What more could I possibly need?”
“Oh, I don’t know. A nice quiet house that’s all your own.”
His eyes turn mercurial. “Why do you care where I’m livin’? Seems you gave up any say you had in that the second you left town.”
“Are you chasin’ Daisy-Mae?”
He dang nearly chokes on his beer. “Daisy-Mae?”
“She said you’d never dated anyone after, well … me.”
“Daisy needs to learn to keep her mouth shut, but it’s sweet you were asking about me.”
“I wasn’t asking. She volunteered the information, just like she mentioned you maybe have somewhere else you can go besides my parents’ bed-and-breakfast.” I get closer, climbing up his porch steps so he has no choice but to retreat or meet me head on.
Colt doesn’t move. “Can I show you something?”
“I’ve already seen whatever you want to show me, Colton Hayes.”
He laughs humorlessly and leans into my ear. “Come on, Lemonade. Let’s you and me go for a ride. No funny business. Or do you suddenly not trust yourself with me?”
I swallow hard, glaring into his eyes so full of anger and indignation. I also see a challenge in them too, and he knows I don’t ever back down from those. “Fine.”
He pulls a set of keys from the pocket of his jeans and gestures for me to go first. I stomp my way over to the faded blue truck and climb in without being told twice. Colt slams his door harder than necessary, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of acknowledging his temper.
He pulls out of the lot and joins the main road. Five minutes later, we’re cruising the edge of my family’s property around the perimeter of the west pasture when he takes an unmarked dirt road I don’t ever remember being there. The road cuts through the pasture and over the rise. A two-story contemporary home comes into view. That definitely wasn’t here before, but if this is the house that Daisy-Mae was talking about, then why the hell would my daddy let Colt build on Winchester land? None of this makes any sense.
Colt cuts the engine and looks down at the keys in his lap. He doesn’t make any attempt to get out, but I scramble from the cab and run across the yard to the front door. I glance back at the man sitting in that blue truck which holds too many memories, and he climbs out of the car, torturously slow, and eats up the ground between us with his long strides. Colt slides the key in the lock and pushes the door open, gesturing for me to go first. I enter the space and walk through to the open-plan kitchen and dining. It’s beautiful—sleek, modern surfaces that I can’t imagine Colt picking out. Beyond the kitchen sits a spacious living room. The house is fully furnished and unused appliances sit on the countertop still wrapped in their plastic. “What is this place?”
“Yours.” His voice cracks over the word and he clears his throat, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “It’s yours.”
I turn and stare at him. “What?”
“I built it.” He drums his fingers on the counter beside him while he studies my reaction. “With help from your daddy and West.”
“When?”
“It was gonna be my wedding gift to you.”
I run my hands over the hewn oak mantle and say quietly, “You never asked me to marry you.”
“I didn’t get the chance.”
I swallow hard and glance around the room, my eye catching the familiar painting on the far wall. Unease prickles down my spine. “How do you have that painting?”
“I bought it.”
“No.” I shake my head and walk from the lounge into the hall. Several more canvases decorate the walls, and as I pass, every room holds more and more of my art. I come to the master suite and open the door, and there above the bed is my painting of this ranch, one I almost couldn’t part with. “You’re the private collector?”
He shrugs, but there’s one missing. One I simply titled Cowboy. One that holds Colt’s likeness. That one really did break my heart to sell. I walk past the en suite and walk-in closets to another door and turn the handle.
Natural light filters in through the huge doors opening out onto the deck. There are easels of all sizes lining the walls, and cabinets filled to bursting with paints and brushes, but on the one wall hangs my painting, my Colt. I absently reach out to touch it, and think better of it. Not just because the oil from my hands will destroy the paint, but because he’s here, watching me, waiting for me to say something. Out the window, there’s a clear view of our red oak, and the sight of that tree and the graves that rest beneath it cause my heart to shatter completely.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Colt
Waiting on her reaction are some of the longest seconds of my life. Will she be angry? Call me a stalker? I’m suddenly not so sure I should have brought her here. What fucking good does it do either of us except rub more salt in the wound.
Lemon turns to me and her eyes are bright with tears. Well, hell. Here’s a reaction I didn’t anticipate.
“You did all of this?” Her voice is shaky as her eyes meet mine. “You made me a studio off our bedroom, bought this land? Off my father?”
“Not right away. He was letting me work it off.”