Page 104 of Colt

“I think so, Freya. You should be making plans for the future. You’ve only got a couple of months left here. You should at least have an idea of where you’re moving to.” She winced.

“I’m such an idiot.” I shook my head at my own stupidity.

“No, you’re not,” Sophie told me. “You’ve not been in many relationships, and believe me, if anyone knows how these asshole bikers can screw with your head, it’s me. There was no asshole bigger than Atlas when he was courting me. He said one thing but meant another. Maybe Colt’s just confused with all the changes.”

My stomach dragged so heavily that I felt sick. “Maybe,” I agreed, but deep down, I knew the truth. Being back at the club had spooked him. Colt spent a lot of time with my dad, and it was bound to make him feel shitty about what we were doing.

The problem was, I could reassure him all day long, but he had to come to terms with everything himself. Whether he meant to or not, Colt was playing games with me, and I had to put my foot down, or else he’d think he could walk all over me.

I felt nauseous, and my insides were shaky, but I was also pissed that he was acting like a child.

Again.

Ugh.

Did Colt think he had the monopoly on guilt? I could already imagine the shock in his eyes and the weight of his disappointment bearing down on me.

An audible sigh escaped my lungs because here we were again. Same shit, different day.

The ruby underwear may have been a waste of time because, even though I wanted us to use the night to reconnect, Colt and I obviously needed to have a serious talk.

The coffee shop was busy when I got there.

It was only five o’clock, and Colt wouldn’t get to the gallery anytime soon, so I stopped to grab a coffee and something to eat on the way.

“Hey!” Martha, the new owner called over as I walked inside. “It’s Freya, right? Kit’s sister?”

“It certainly fuckin’ is Marth, darlin’,” a deep, gravelly voice with a trace of an Irish lilt said from behind. “Whatever she wants, put on my tab.”

I whirled around and looked up into bright blue eyes, except those particular ones didn’t belong to Colt; they belonged to a dark-haired, muscled, extremely good-looking guy.

“Tadhg,” I murmured. “When did you get back in town?”

A wide, sexy smirk pulled across his face. “A few days ago. Ma decreed that we all needed to get out asses back to Hambleton for the holidays. Me Da’s not well.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” I smiled sadly. “It’s good to see you though.”

Tadgh O’Shea was a year older than me, so I knew him pretty well from school because I’d skipped a grade. He was confident, intelligent, and so curious that he’d left town at nineteen to travel the world. Somehow, he’d fallen into the stock car racing scene and over time, had become pretty successful.

“I’m meetin’ Donovan, but he’s late as feckin’ usual.” Tadhg rolled his eyes. “Tell me what you want, then go sit.”

With a broad smile, I relayed my order, turned, and made my way to a table at the back of the room, where a coat hung over the back of one of the chairs. Tadhg had left his phone and a newspaper sitting there without a care in the world. But then I guessed the O’Shea’s didn’t have to worry about anybody stealing their shit. The brothers were notorious around town for their boxing and fighting skills, and their dad, Lorcan, was rumored to have connections to organized crime.

Nobody messed with the O’Shea’s unless they were crackpots.

I took the seat next to the chair with the coat hanging on it, facing the counter. As I sat, the door flew open, and in walked Donny O’Shea.

Me and every other person with a vagina stared at the man who walked in and sighed. On top of that, my nipples got hot.

I’d crushed on Colt all my life. He was it for me; there was no question about that. But, if Colt had left town, or if he’d gotten run over and killed by a stampede of wild horses, I was certain I would’ve turned to Donovan O’Shea for comfort.

Tall, dark, handsome, muscled, cocky, lady killer and lady fucker, notorious giver of orgasms, Donny O’Shea, was a town legend. He fucked anything that moved. Tall, short, thick, thin, white, black, Asian, Donovan loved them all, and to be fair, they all loved Donny right back.

I hadn’t fucked Donovan, though once—on one of the many occasions Colt got himself a new girlfriend, and I swore I was moving on—I fucked him in my fantasies.

Just once you understand.

When I was seventeen.

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