Page 5 of Overtime
“See, I’ll be the least of your worries.”
“Did you guys come up with any sort of plan to help Harper?” Ben looks to Violet.
“Joss has an idea about a calendar with mostly naked athletes in it. Or possibly a coffee table book. She’s still deciding.” Violet gives Ben an evil grin as he wraps his arms around her from the side.
“Why does that not surprise me?” He shakes his head at me.
“Because you know me well?” I offer.
The two of them kiss, and they look like the picture of wedded bliss even now, several years in. When they should be over it, yelling at each other about laundry piles and a lawn that needs to be mowed. But not them. They look like everything you might want if you believed in love.
“You two make me sick!” I yell but then can’t help the smile that cracks across my face because I love them despite how disgustingly in love they are.
Just then the doorbell rings.
“Damn,” Ben mutters kissing Violet one last time. “Already here I guess.”
“Can you get it? I’m finishing up the stuff in the oven. Once Harper’s here I’m sure she won’t mind keeping an eye on the door.”
“Yup got it.” Ben disappears around the corner to answer the door, and I go to sit at the counter again, pulling up one of the barstools.
“Anything else I can do?”
“Nope. I’m going to let Ben and the guys handle the BBQ, so once this cornbread is done, we’re good.”
I hear the sound of male voices in the hallway, laughter, and then I can distinctly hear his voice as they get closer. One that’s deep and sexy. One attached to—he walks into the room then and my mind blanks. Just a complete blank void and there’s the sound of white noise in my ears as I stare at him. There’s a reason he’s on magazine covers. He’s like the second coming of James Dean. If James Dean played football and was closer to Rock Hudson’s height. Built like he could throw you up against a wall and fuck you hard.
I don’t know why this man always has such a pull on me. He walks into a room and suddenly it’s like everything stops but him. And he shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t. He’s not remotely my type. Too pretty. Too clean cut. Too successful. Give me a lanky heavily tattooed and pierced starving artist with greasy-looking hair up in a bun. Bonus points for facial piercings. Maybe the occasional blue-collar guy with a filthy mouth and a secret love of alt girls when I need variety in my diet. Those are my kind of hot. Not Mr. Midwest Farm Boy Quarterback over here, walking in dressed like he just walked off a GQ casual photoshoot set with a perfectly styled and textured quiff. It’s too fucking much. And yet, here I am gawking like Elvis has been resurrected.
“Hey Colt,” Violet greets him.
“Hey Vi.” He flashes her a bright smile, and I feel my stomach flip a little.
Remembering what it felt like to have that smile aimed at me. Anticipating I’m not going to get that reaction when he notices me any second now. I’m not prepared to meet him like this. With just the four of us in the room. I’d expected to come across him during the party, in a room full of people where we could exchange a slight half-nod smile thing that passed as acknowledgment and then move on. That would rip off the Band-Aid and then we could happily ignore each other. But not like this. No sooner I think it, his eyes turn to meet mine.
Fucking. Fuck. I can tell the second he looks at me that he knows what I’m thinking. That he still melts my brain and other parts of me. I want to run, but then I remember the lecture I’d been given about playing nice. So I panic, deciding I’ll play it off with excessive cheerfulness.
I run and throw my arms around him, hugging him tight.
“Colt! I missed you so much! You look amazing!”
His hands wrap around my wrists, and he takes a step back, pulling away from me. His eyebrow raises, and he looks at me like I’m an over-exuberant fan.
“Uh, hi.” Is all he manages to say, his eyes sweeping over me and finding me wanting.
The hot flush of embarrassment races through me. It’s not visible on the outside because I’m well-practiced. But I feel sick. I glance at Violet, and she looks worried for me. I turn away from him, desperate to find something else to focus on, and I hear Ben clear his throat.
Kill. Me. Now.
“Oh shoot, I forgot to get the stuff outside set up. We’ve gotta pull the kayaks down and finish getting the balls and sports stuff out of the shed,” Violet interrupts, looking flustered, and I can tell it’s as much about the reunion as it is her genuine concern for setting up the party.
“I got it!” I practically shout. Any excuse to get away from him. “I know where the shed is, and I assume the kayaks are in the boathouse?”
Violet looks at me surprised. “I was just gonna have Ben and Colt—”
But before she can even finish the sentence the doorbell rings, and Ben flashes a look before heading off to answer it. And after that embarrassing debacle, I’m ready to get out of here anyway.
“I have it. Really.”
