Page 45 of Right Number, Wrong Man

HAILEY

Sipping on my second raspberry daiquiri, I can finally look at Colt again. Somewhat. At least out of the corner of my eye.

After getting our drinks, we found a spot by the side of the dance floor and made small talk, discussing other guests’ fashion choices and dance styles. Thank fuck he didn’t bring up Andrea’s inappropriate comments, because I wouldn’t know how to respond.

She’s right, we’d make a great couple. And by the way, even though I’ve hated you for the longest time, I think I have a crush on you now. Surprise!

That’s what I’d say if I wanted to embarrass myself so badly I’d have to go to that sunflower field and put a bullet in my head. At least then I’d have a use for the revolver.

Colt leans in, his arm brushing mine and I twitch like I touched an exposed wire. “Do you ever think ‘bout us?” he asks, bourbon on his breath.

I gasp into my straw and my drink bubbles. “E-excuse me? Us ?”

“Yeah, I mean when we were young. Cause I think about the past all the time. I miss it.”

“I didn’t take you for a nostalgic man.”

Colt lets out a wry laugh. He sips on his drink, watching me over the edge of his glass as if he’s trying to read my mind. I hope he can’t tell that I wonder what the bourbon would taste like straight from his lips. Would his beard be scratchy if we kissed?

“What do you miss about the past?” I ask to stop myself from thinking about kissing.

His shoulder rises in a shrug. “The simplicity, I guess. All my mistakes were unwritten and I didn’t have to carry the weight of their consequences every day.”

Mistakes ? My head tilts. From what I know, Colt’s career was exceptional so far. What kind of regrets could an accomplished man like him have?

I’m about to ask when the music cuts out. The DJ’s mic screeches before Andrea’s voice blares through the speakers.

“Dearestestest guests,” she slurs. “I’d like to—” She hiccups and giggles. “I want to dedicate a song to a super-duper special person. My bestie Hails!”

She points the mic in my direction and the room turns toward me in a surge of applause.

Oh, no . Hell to the no.

I give an awkward wave, baring my teeth in a forced grin. If I didn’t know that this woman loves me, I’d think she was trying to humiliate me to death tonight.

Andrea laughs. “Hails, you’ve been my friend forever, but you’re so much more than that. You’re the peanut butter to my jelly, the yin to my yang, and my number one emergency contact… mostly because you’d want to be the first to hear the piping hot tea before you come to my rescue. ”

My eyes get misty and I blow Andrea a kiss. “Love you!” I yell, earning a warm chuckle from the crowd.

Andrea catches the kiss, leaning so far over the railing of the DJ’s podium that the guy has to physically stop her from falling off.

“Love you, too!” she shouts. “You’re the sister I never had and I don’t know where I’d be without you.

You pushed me to ask out Steve when he was a regular at the coffee shop.

If you didn’t force me to bring him a muffin on the house, I never would’ve had the courage to say a word.

And now that I’m officially off the market, I want to return the favor.

This song is for you… and your handsome cowboy. ”

Guests cheer and roughly 300 pairs of eyes fix on Colt and me, freezing me with their stare. The first notes of an upbeat country song drift from the speakers and somebody whistles.

Colt leans in. “You remember that year our parents gave us joint Christmas presents?”

I blink up at him. “Uh, yes. Dancing lessons. Seventeen-year-old me thought that was super lame.”

He takes my drink and puts our glasses on the nearest table. Then he holds out his hand. “Do you recall the two-step?”

I laugh nervously. “Either way, I don’t think we get much of a choice here. We have to give the people what they want or they’ll start a riot by the looks of it.”

I put my hand in Colt’s. My heart shoots into my throat as his rough fingers encase mine and the clapping crowd parts for us while he leads me onto the dance floor.

“Andrea has great taste in music,” he remarks casually, but his shoulders seem stiff.

Is he nervous, too?

He puts a hand on my waist and I wish he’d pull me closer instead of keeping a polite distance, but the word friend echoes in my head like a warning.

He said he’s here as my friend and I need to respect that.

“I’m sorry…” I glance at Andrea and then back at him. “Alcohol and Andrea never mix well.”

“And what’re you sorry for exactly, Spitfire?”

“T-that you’re forced to do this.”

He shakes his head sarcastically, lips pursed. “Oh no! I gotta dance with the most beautiful woman in the county! Damn, make that the whole world. What a punishment, right? Fuckin’ woe is me.”

Colt just called me beautiful for the second time tonight—and not just beautiful, the most beautiful woman in the world?! He’s probably trying to make me laugh, but it feels like my cheeks should be sparking flames.

Keep it cool, Hailey. Breathe and then hit him with a witty comeback.

“Well, in this dim light, some people might even call you handsome,” I tease.

He quirks a brow, smirking. “Are you some people?”

“With all the alcohol in my blood, I might be.”

Colt takes the lead and doesn’t let me overthink any longer.

His confidence makes it seem like we’ve done this a hundred times, even if we’re both more than a little rusty. Occasionally, we bump knees or I step on his toes, but he spins me around and dips me until I relax and start giggling.

There’s a small break in the music before a much slower, romantic country song begins.

I glare over at Andrea by the DJ booth, but she gives me a double thumbs up and my eyes roll. I should’ve known her plan was much more devious than one dance .

The other song was fast and fun. But this one is?—

A firm hand on my waist turns my attention to Colt and butterflies surge in my belly as he pulls me close. Much closer than before.

Heat radiates off his body and I use the opportunity to bask in his addictive scent. His hand slides lower on my back, stopping above my ass, and I’m torn between relief and disappointment.

“We barely found our rhythm, Spitfire. I ain’t lettin’ you go yet,” he drawls.

The crowd fades into the background, the fairy lights overhead blurring into streaks of gold.

There’s just us and this song. This dance.

Colt lowers our entwined hands, pressing my palm to his heart, and my eyes widen when I notice his pulse. It’s rapid—like mine. Trembling, I lean my forehead against his broad chest and he rests his chin on the crown of my head.

This can’t be real life. I’m slow dancing with the man I used to hate more than anyone else—but I like it?

Wrong.

I love it.

No more bumping knees now. No more stepping on his toes. We’re in perfect sync, our bodies molding to one another as we spin gently.

We don’t speak, but there’s no need for words. I wouldn’t know what to say anyway.

I simply enjoy the strong beat of Colt’s heart against my palm and the stream of his breath as he presses his nose into my hair.

I’m in a fairy tale, but the song ends too soon.

Don’t leave, I plead silently. Don’t let go. Let’s pretend for a little longer.

The DJ plays an upbeat pop song, but Colt keeps holding me close. He moves us to our own rhythm, a secret song only we can hear.

Tears burn my eyes.

How do I know if these feelings are real, or if I’m mistaking adrenaline from the night he saved my life for attraction?

We’ve just become friends. I can’t ruin our fragile new beginning with my greedy, unsteady heart. He deserves better than that.

I tip my head back and glance up at Colt. I don’t know what I hope to see in his face, but when our eyes meet, I get weak in the knees.

I like this version of him. Gentle, caring, smiling. Sweet.

Actually, I think I like every version of him.

The dutiful soldier. The boyish charmer. The tender animal lover. And even the bull-headed asshole driving me insane with his smug, know-it-all attitude.

His chin dips and he holds my hand tighter, the other pulling my hips flush to his. I thought these things only happen in the movies, but I swear time stands still for us as the tip of his nose brushes mine and his breath tickles my lips?—

Something touches my shoulder. I yelp and startle, twisting out of Colt’s arm to face a neon pink lipstick grin. My heart drops. The woman can’t be older than early twenties—like the girls Mike cheated with.

“Mind if I cut in?” she asks, putting a hand on her hip, her nail polish matching her lipstick and her tight, short dress.

I sputter, ripped from the sweetest dream into a sobering reality.

“Can I help you?” Colt asks the woman, that trademark frown back on his face .

She laughs. “What are you scowling for, cowboy? I just want to dance with you.”

My throat thickens. I pray I won’t burst into tears in front of all these people, but I’m about to be replaced by a younger model, just like Mike replaced me. How could I be stupid enough to think Colt would spend all night with me instead of?—

He wraps an arm around my shoulder. “I’m spoken for.”

I blink. Did he turn down a dance with this hottie to stay with me ?

“Come on, handsome…” The woman reaches out and puts a hand on his other arm, but Colt jerks away, wrapping that one around me, too.

What’s happening? I feel like melting into a puddle. His embrace is so protective. So possessive.

“I’ll have to decline, ma’am,” he says firmly, but despite his polite words, rage flickers in his eyes. “Please leave us alone. You’re makin’ my partner uncomfortable.”

Partner? He must mean it as in dance partner?

The woman grimaces. “You’d rather spend time with that bit?—”

Colt growls. “Trust me, lady, you don’t wanna finish that sentence. I don’t hit women, but your attitude is makin’ my hand itch.” He loosens his grip on me and intertwines our fingers instead. “C’mon, Spitfire. Let’s get some air.”

The woman huffs an exasperated breath, but Colt is already tugging me toward the exit.

In passing, he reaches over the bar and grabs a bottle of top-shelf bourbon.

The bartender shouts after us, but Colt doesn’t even flinch.

He steers me out into the balmy summer night, toward the sunflower fields, and I follow him like a lost puppy.

Colton Walker chose me?