Page 65 of 7 Dirty Lies

Chapter19

The next fewweeks were pretty magical.Filming continued at a steady pace and in my down time Colt and I developed a pretty deep friendship over whiskey and poetry, emails and long morning walks.We didn’t talk about the past and in retrospect I think it was because were both afraid of upsetting the wonderful place we’dreached.

We should have known nothing stops theinevitable.

“I can’t believe this is my first time in your office.”It was basically the entire fourth floor of the main house.Well, Colt’s actual office was one half, while the other half was used by his small staff of five.I was surprised to learn that Grayson hadadesk.

“I guess we just never got around to work.”He moved to the window and pulled up the dark woodblinds.

“You’ve been to the set.You’ve watchedmework.”

“Yes, but what you do is interesting.If you watched me work you’d be bored totears.”

“No angry phone calls?”I whisperedloudly.

“Only one or two a day,” he whispered back.“It’s actually a lot of paperwork and planning.Oh and ass kissing.I hate the asskissing.”

“No youdon’t.”

He blushed.“True.When it comes to you.”He took my hand and led me around.The office was spacious but dark.Dark woods, dark red rugs and curtains.Oddly, I had never pictured Colt asared.

“Who decorated youroffice?”

“What do you mean?”We stopped beside a large grandfather clock that I could not imagine Colt intentionallypickingout.

“Someone chose the curtains, the rugs, the desk...who was it?”I stopped at a large saddle.It was clearly old by the way the leather was worn.It had intricate designs carved into it and a white hat laid overthehorn.

I was willing to bet these were his father’s and this office hadn’t changed a bit since it becameColt’s.

“It’s just always been this way,” heshrugged.

Bingo.“You just don’t strike me as a guy wholikesred.”

He startedlaughing.

“What?”

“Seriously?”

I was lost.“What’s sofunny?”

He took a step toward me and grabbed a lock of my hair.“When we met you were aredhead.”

Oh.So maybe he did like a little red in his life.“Do youmissit?”

“Sometimes.I like you no matter what your hair color is, but the redwasfun.”

Dulynoted.

I stopped in front of a framed poem that hung behindhisdesk.

Bebold.

Be dogged in yourpursuit.

Be the wind thatblows

The leaf gets blown and knows not whereitgoes.

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