Page 101 of Need You
“Good,” Colt said, leaning back against the pleather bench. “You gonna go back to LA to buy something else?”
“Eventually. Right now, I want to launch the outdoor line with your family’s company. I’m excited about it.” She hadn’t been this enthusiastic about a line in a long time. Adventure wear—who would’ve ever thought such a thing would appeal to her high-fashion sensibility? But the challenge of making rugged, functional clothing beautiful filled her with excitement, as did the man sitting across from her.
He was looking at her. A look so sexy, it charged through her like a jolt of electricity. “Then I suppose we’ll be working together.”
“Why? You thinking of taking over the retail end of the family business?” She didn’t see it. Colt had many facets—adventurer, crime solver, musician—but being buried in profit-and-loss statements wasn’t one of them.
“You never know.” He hitched his shoulders, his gaze darting to her lips.
She assumed Colt was alluding to his problems with the mayor but was having trouble concentrating with him looking at her the way he was.
“You want to go out tonight if I get out early enough?” he asked.
“What are we doing, Colt?” Did he not remember their last conversation?
“Yeah.” He scrubbed his hand through his hair and turned somber. “I can’t stop thinking about you and I’m tired of fighting it ... have been for a while. As long as you’re living next door, I don’t have the resolve to overcome my attraction to you.” He waited a beat and continued, “Permanently, though? We’re not gonna work, you know that?”
“Not all women are like Lisa,” she said in a soft voice. “We’ve been over this.”
“Too many similarities.”
“That’s offensive. I would never intentionally hurt someone. And I certainly wouldn’t steal their work from them.”
“That’s not what I meant. We want different things out of life. I have no interest in fame or fortune, just want to serve my community.”
“You make me out to be shallow when there’s nothing wrong with wanting success.” She’d dreamed of being a famous designer since making her first Vogue McCall dress on her mother’s Singer. “You are trying to pass your trust issues off as reverse snobbery. It’s not working.”
He snorted. “Baby, if you say so. You’re the one moving away. But if you want to try, I’ll try. I just ask that we keep any relationship between us quiet. No telling Hannah, my brothers, not anyone, not even when it’s over.”
Deb came with their order. “One beef-on-wreck and a Cobb,” she said, placing the plates down on the table.
The interruption gave Delaney time to think about Colt’s parameters. After her spectacular breakup with Robert, Delaney didn’t need to advertise her love life any more than Colt did.
Felix came out of the kitchen and beckoned Deb, who dashed over to do his bidding.
“If that’s the way you want to handle it.”
“Yep.” He nodded with conviction.
Fine with her. It was just a fling, after all. A fling with an expiration date because he’d already decided that once she left they were doomed. Honestly, he was probably right. Relationships even under the best circumstances were difficult. Just look at her and Robert. “Okay,” she said.
He scanned the restaurant, presumably to make sure no one could hear them. “You want to go to Tahoe tonight?” Thirty miles from Glory Junction, the likelihood of running into any of their friends there was next to nil.
“All right,” she said. “Sounds fun.”
Colt got a call from dispatch—a car accident on the outskirts of town—paid their bill, and took the rest of his sandwich to go. She finished her salad, said good-bye to Deb, and drove to the seamstress to get the rest of her samples. The whole way there she thought about her and Colt’s date and how his arrival in her life had been so unexpected. Just like the adventure wear she was now designing.
The fabrics she’d chosen for the sports clothes were gorgeous. Forest green florals, winter white checks, electric blue with geometric designs, metallic silver, and pastel paisley. Nothing too loud, but definitely a swish of flair in an otherwise banal market.
She took the garments home to press and spent much of the afternoon preparing for her date with Colt, including applying a beauty mask, taking a long bath, and pawing through her lingerie drawers for maximum frill factor.
At six he called to say he was running late. At seven she heard his police car come up the easement road and watched for him through the window. He went home first. Delaney presumed he wanted to shower and change. Forty-five minutes later, he knocked at her door.
She opened and said, “Hey” when what she should’ve said waswow!He’d put on a crisp white Oxford, a pair of jeans, and cowboy boots, nothing designer, but on him the clothes could’ve been Ralph Lauren or Ryan Michael.
“Sorry I’m late.”
“Was the accident bad?”
