Page 122 of One Little Kiss

Winnie: Lexi is going to watch Weston until you get home.

Winnie: Colton? I’m getting nervous. Just let me know you’re okay, I guess. Okay?

Winnie: I’m at work, but I have my phone. I’m really getting worried, though.

Fucking hell.

Colton: Hey, CC. I’m sorry. I was out viewing potential buildings and didn’t have service.

Colton: The day was …

What Colton? I can’t tell her this over text. Pressing her name in my contacts, I call her, but it goes straight to voicemail.

Winnie: Hi! I’m so happy to hear from you. I was worried. I can’t answer my phone right now. The doctor on call has a thing about personal calls.

Winnie: Are you okay?

Colton: Yeah. I’m good, baby.

Colton: I love you.

Winnie: I love you, too.

Winnie: I’ll see you in the morning.

Welcome to the longest night of my freaking life.

Pulling up Preston’s contact, I stab his number with so much force I almost knock the damn thing out of my hand. I don’t even wait for him to say hello. As soon as I hear him pick up, I lay into him. “Where the fuck did you find Lindsey?”

“Colton?”

“She didn’t know a goddamn thing about real estate. She was dressed like a prostitute, and she made a pass at me. More than a pass, Preston. She fucking threw herself at me in an abandoned motel somewhere outside of town and now I’m walking my goddamn ass down a dirt road trying to get home to Weston and I can’t tell Winnie about this yet because she’s at work. This isn’t the kind of thing I tell my fiancée with trust issues over the phone, Preston.”

By the time I’m done, I’m sweating, and my voice is hoarse.

“Colton? Calm down. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Lindsey hit on you? Where are you?”

“She tried to stick her tongue down my throat, Preston.” I’m all out of fucks at this point. I’m waving my hands wildly because he doesn’t seem to get how messed up this is.

“Gross. She’s like seventy years old.”

My body goes rigid, and ice fills my veins. “What did you just say?”

“Lindsey Tannery of Tannery and Associates. She must be seventy years old. Are you sure you didn’t—”

“The woman who showed me around today, Preston. The woman who introduced herself as Lindsey Tannery was not seventy years old. She was maybe twenty-five, smelled like cheap perfume, and had as many brain cells as my left nut after I jack off. What the hell is going on?”

“Where are you?”

Glancing at my phone, I share my location with him.

“Preston …”

“I’m on my way.”

CHAPTER38

WINNIE