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CHAPTER 20
TRIXIE
Iwake at dawn, milky sunlight streaming into the apartment. Colt’s strong arm is slung over me and he’s snoring lightly in my ear, his breath warm on my face. I flash back to last night—dinner at my brother’s, then dessert here at the apartment—and a fizzy happiness bubbles up inside me.
I never thought I’d feel like this again—or that the man responsible would be Colt Wild.
Colt ‘Daredevil’ Wild. The guy every female in Peach Springs—and quite possibly worldwide—is in love with likesme.
Honestly, if I weren’t lying beside him in bed naked, I wouldn’t believe it myself. Colt could have anyone in the entire town, yet he’s with me.
Because you’re available, Trix. Don’t go getting ahead of yourself. He’s leaving, remember? Don’t get attached. Remember howthatturns out.
My gut swirls and I shove that thought away. It’s just my insecurity getting to me, after everything that happened with Jett. No, Colt chose to get involved with me. He could have kept his hands—and his dick—to himself.
But he didn’t and now here we are. I know we said no-strings-attached, but I can already feel the gossamer threads of love and commitment wrapping around my heart.
Maybe sleeping with Colt was a terrible idea.
No. I refuse to believe that. At the very least, I know I’m not broken in the bedroom department. Because last night was amazing, with zero issues. Sex with Jett was never like that, not even in the beginning. So the issue wasn’t me—and that knowledge is worth something.
The sun’s creeping higher in the sky and I have another big day of reno ahead of me. I need to get the stain for the beams as soon as the hardware store opens so we can get started on that project.
Slipping from Colt’s embrace, I tiptoe to the bathroom quietly so as not to wake him. I take a quick shower, then towel off and throw on my reno uniform of T-shirt and shorts. Scraping my hair back into a ponytail, I brush my teeth and I’m ready for the day.
Colt’s still sawing logs when I get out of the bathroom so I bypass breakfast and head downstairs. I can always grab a quick coffee while I’m out.
Unlocking the door to the shop, I glance around at the empty space and envision what the space could become with a little more sweat and hard work. The tile will make a huge visual impact and the stain on the beams will make the ceiling pop. Those two elements working together will transform the shop into a beautiful place people will want to spend time in. Add in some good vintage-y lighting and the effect will be complete.
Tap-tap-tap.
Danny waves at me through the dusty display window. I’ll have to add window washing to the long task list.
I head over to the door, unlocking it and ushering him in.
“Hey—this place is looking good.” He spins in a circle, taking everything in. “You weren’t kidding—you really are making good progress.”
“Yeah, thanks. Colt and I have been working non-stop on demo. We’re getting ready to tackle the beams today. He’s going to stain them for me.”
Danny tips his head up to the ceiling. “Oh, man. That’s a big project. Smart to do any staining or painting before you install the flooring, though. Saves you the hassle of protecting the floors. I hate dealing with stupid drop cloths.” He kicks at the concrete slab with his shoe, a cloud of dust puffing into the air. Then he freezes, his gaze locked on the back wall.
My eyes follow his to the black pile on the floor.
Ohmygod. My panties from last night.
On the ground is the pair of panties Colt ripped off me last night. I didn’t bother retrieving them when we went upstairs and now my brother’s staring at the black satin scrap of fabric in the corner.
He skulks over to the pile, but doesn’t bend down and pick up the destroyed undergarment. Instead, he regards it as a black widow, his brow furrowed in disgust.
“Trix—tell me you’re not doing anything with Colt.” His voice is low, filled with incredulity. Like he can’t believe Colt would ever see me as anything other than his kid sister.
“What?” My face burns, every inch of me heating as I try to think of a good response.
“You and Colt. Please, for the love, tell me you’re not involved with him.”
Tired of his ridiculous overprotective attitude, I do something radical—I go with the truth.
“What if we are? You know—involved?” I fold my arms over my chest as my brother shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot, consciously avoiding looking at the panties.
