Page 77 of Overtime
The server chooses that moment to bring our drinks and salads, and I raise my eyebrow at her as we wait. She takes a sip of her wine and watches me with an amused expression.
“Yeah, that’s a condition of the building,” I say when the server is finally out of earshot.
“What’s that?”
“The only person you fuck anywhere in that place is the one whose name’s on the building.”
“Well, that’s too bad. What if I want to fuck myself while he watches?”
The server chooses that moment to return with our bread, and I hear him nearly choke on his own breath as he hurries off again. She laughs at his retreat and her eyes sparkle as they meet mine again.
“You’re gonna kill someone with that mouth of yours one of these days.”
“Well, I have every intention of making it you.” She grins and my heart tightens in my chest.
“Gonna be a rough murder trial for you. Killing the golden boy.”
“Yeah, but I’ll probably get a fantastic nickname like Black Widow or something. And in the trial, I can brag on the record about how good you were in bed.”
“Well, at least that will be on the headstone.”
“Of course.”
“So you’re not pissed at me?” I look her over carefully, worried at how calm she’s being about all of this. That she’s making jokes instead of lecturing me about the entanglements and bolting for the door.
“No, I’m not pissed. It’s insanely sweet of you, Colt. I’m grateful, honestly. The studio space will be huge, and I know Harper will be thrilled to have proper offices instead of her working out of Alex’s place and me trying to carve out a corner at Ben and Violet’s.” Her eyes drift over me, and she smiles. “Thank you. I don’t deserve you; you know.”
“I’m just relieved you like it. I wasn’t sure how you’d take it.”
“Well, I’m glad I can surprise you sometimes.”
“Sometimes…” I echo, even though I’m pretty sure it’s a nonstop revelation to have her in my life. She is definitely not for the faint of heart, but she is everything I’ve ever wanted.
FORTY-ONE
Joss
When we get backin the car after the valet brings it around, I’m cursing myself for not having discussed the elephant in my head at dinner. Now in the car it’s going to be a million times more awkward. When Colt walks around to get in, he smiles at me as he slides onto his seat, and I feel like I’m about to ruin a perfectly good evening with my emotions. But before I can open my mouth, his phone connects to the speakers and it’s glaringly loud.
“Holy fuck!” he yells, and I start laughing as he struggles to press the buttons to turn it off. “Jesus. I don’t drive this car very often. That’s what I get for trying to be hot shit tonight. I’m sorry. Hang on.”
But he presses something else and suddenly his voicemail starts playing.
“Two messages. First message. From Mom. Hi Colton. It’s your mother. I wish you’d pick up. I’d rather have this discussion on the phone, but I guess I’ll have to have it with your answering machine. Cody set it up, so I have an alert on my phone that sends me any news about you. So I can know about your games and things. And it sent me photos of you and some woman out together holding hands.”
My stomach bottoms out. But technology doesn’t give a fucking damn about my feelings, so it rolls on.
“And I am just very worried about you and what that city is doing to you. That woman looks like a prostitute. With those heels and those tattoos and that nose ring. Ugh. Disgusting. Her dress isn’t fooling anyone. I hope you’re not dating prostitutes, Colton. Your father nearly died when I showed him the photos. He’s as worried about you as I am. We both think you need to take some time off and come back home. You need to find a good woman to marry, Colton, to keep you out of that sort of trouble. That woman is the kind men keep as a mistress. Not a wife.”
“Jesus. Fucking. Christ.” I hear Colt growl as he tries to find the right combination of buttons.
“You know Mary, Gene’s daughter. She still asks about you every time I see her at the grocery store. Wants to know how you are. Tells me how handsome you are. She’s still single you know. She’s the kind of girl who would make you a good wife. I know boys like to sow their oats but, Colton, you’ve got to think long term, and I know you don’t want—”
The recording cuts off abruptly as Colt manages to finally sever the Bluetooth connection.
“Fuck,” he curses again.
“I think they’re waiting for you to move the car out of the way,” I say softly as I see the valet bouncing back and forth trying to decide whether or not to chastise his favorite quarterback for blocking the valet stand.
