Page 5

Chapter five

Riley: Smirks and Stalemates

T wo days has passed since that argument at the rescue.

I was sitting at my kitchen table, staring at my laptop but not seeing it. The rescue’s social media feed was flooded with photos of Colton from yesterday. Colton smiling with the dogs. Colton posing with volunteers. Colton looking like some kind of hero.

My coffee had gone cold, but I didn’t care. I was too busy fuming. How could he waltz in, turn the rescue into his personal PR campaign, and then leave like nothing happened? It felt like a betrayal, a slap in the face.

I slammed my laptop shut and grabbed my keys. The point of his working at the rescue wasn’t to smile for cameras. It was to give the decent guy in him the space to show up.

“Riley, you’re overreacting,” Tessa said over the phone as I drove to the rescue. “Maybe he’s trying to help.”

“Help?” I snapped. “Tessa, this isn’t about helping. It’s about him.”

Tessa has been my best friend since our senior year of high school. The one person who knew all my secrets, except my embarrassing crush on Colton. That one felt too pathetic to say out loud, even to her.

She’d been there through every breakup, every bad decision, and every late-night rant. She was the kind of friend who told you the truth, even when you didn’t want to hear it. And right now, I don’t want to hear it.

“OK, spill. What’s the deal with you and Colton? One minute, you’re giving him that goofy heart-eyes emoji look, and the next, you’re acting like he’s public enemy number one.”

“It’s… complicated.”

“Complicated? Riley, you’ve been glaring at him like he keyed your car. What did he do?”

“It’s not what he did. It's who he is. Seeing him at the rescue reminds me how easy it would be to believe he’s changed.” I didn’t mean to say that part out loud. But there it was, the uncomfortable truth. I still want to believe he’s the good guy.

“And who is he, exactly? Because from where I’m sitting, he seems like a guy trying to help.”

“Trying to help? Tessa, this is about the image—about Colton needing a clean-up story. He brought a camera crew for crying out loud. He’s always been like this.”

“Wait, hold on. Back up. You’re telling me you’ve known him for years and never mentioned this before?”

“I didn’t think it mattered. It was a long time ago.”

“Clearly, it matters. So, what happened?”

“I… I had the biggest crush on him back when he and Ryan were in college. He came home with Ryan for Thanksgiving, and he was… perfect. Charming, confident, funny. He even helped my mom in the kitchen without being asked. I thought he was different.”

“Different, how?”

“Different from the other guys Ryan brought around. He wasn’t just some loud, obnoxious jock. He was kind. Or at least, I thought he was.”

“What changed?”

“I overheard him talking to Ryan over Christmas. They were laughing about some girl he’d gone out with.

He said, ‘She was great for photos—you know, the kind of girl who looks good on my arm at events. But she started expecting things, like actual dates and conversations. Way too much work for someone who’s just there to make me look good. ”

“Wait, he said that? Out loud?”

“Yeah. It was like a punch to the gut. I realized he wasn’t the guy I thought he was. He was just using people for his image, career, and whatever he needed at the time. And I couldn’t believe I’d been stupid enough to think he was different.”

“And now?”

“Now? He’s still the same. Always playing the hero, always looking out for himself. I don’t trust him, Tessa.”

“But that was years ago. People change.”

“Not him. He’s still the guy who cares more about his image than anything else.”

“Or maybe you’re still holding onto something that happened long ago.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re not exactly objective when it comes to Colton. Maybe you’re still hurt because you had the biggest crush on him, and he didn’t live up to the fantasy.”

“It’s not about a fantasy. It’s about who the real Colton is.”

“And who’s that? The guy who helped your mom in the kitchen, or the guy who made one careless comment years ago? Because from where I’m standing, he’s here, cleaning kennels and helping volunteers. That doesn’t seem selfish to me.”

“You don’t get it, Tessa. He’s not what he seems.”

“Or maybe you’re just afraid to admit he’s not the guy you thought he was—in a good way.”

Silence.

“Riley, that was years ago. Maybe it’s time to let it go.” Tessa said, her tone softening.

“It’s not about letting it go,” I said, gripping the steering wheel tighter. “It’s about not letting him fool me again.”

Even as I said it, a tiny flicker of panic kicked in. What if I let myself believe this was the real Colton—the decent guy I used to think he was? What if I am wrong again? I didn’t think I could survive being that wrong twice.

I pulled into the rescue parking lot and took a deep breath, trying to calm down. The last thing I needed was to lose my temper in front of the volunteers. But as I stepped out of my car, I spotted Colton near the barn, talking to one of the dogs like they were old friends.

The sleeves of his flannel shirt were shoved up to his elbows, and dirt was smudged along one forearm like he’d been elbow-deep in a kennel. He wasn’t just playing the part. He looked like he belonged here.

And that pissed me off more than if he’d been phoning it in. How could he fake it so well? I squared my shoulders and considered marching over, ready to give him a piece of my mind.

Instead, I just stood by my car. I don’t know what stopped me. Maybe Tessa’s words were still in my ear. Maybe what I was watching was the real Colton. And perhaps everything else was, I don’t know what? A coping mechanism? One that used to work—but clearly isn’t anymore.

Or maybe I didn’t want to spoil this spectacular fall day. I love days like today.

The early autumn air was crisp, with the faint smoky tang of fallen leaves starting to decay. A soft breeze stirred the wind chimes hanging from the old porch beam, their delicate tinkling overlaying the occasional bark from the kennels.

Some volunteers walked dogs near the fence line, bundled in light jackets. It should’ve felt like any typical day. Just a man and a dog having a moment.

Colton was crouched by the fence, one hand on Bear’s scruffy neck, the other gently scratching behind his ear. His voice was low, almost soothing.

“The sign says to be careful when approaching you. But I walked right up to you, and you didn’t even flinch, bud. You think you're a tough guy, but you’re a total sweetie, aren’t you?”

Bear was looking so intently at Colton.

“You and I are a lot alike, aren’t we, bud?”

Colton leaned closer, inspecting something. “Ah—hold up. That’s a tick. Hang on, I got you.”

He reached for the first-aid kit near the barn wall, moving quietly and efficiently. He was not posing or playing it up.

Just… helping.

“That would have made for a compelling story when the cameras were around yesterday,” I said, walking over to him.

I wanted to stay angry.

He looked up, startled—but not sheepish. Just tired. “Didn’t come for photo ops today.”

Much to Bear’s dismay, Colton stopped petting him and stood up to face me, well, more like tower over me.

His hair is just the right amount of messy—like he’d rolled out of bed looking infuriatingly perfect. And those eyes are still that same impossible blue.

“Look, Riley, I’m sorry if having the press here yesterday upset you. I probably should have asked you first, but I was afraid you would have said no.”

“I probably would have.”

“Listen, this rescue is making a real difference. The volunteers love working here, and they love you."

Wait, he’s been talking to the volunteers?

“I know journalists like Vanessa. They will spin the story of me working here, like working here is a bad thing.”

“It’s not,” I quickly interject.

“I know it's not, Riley. That’s why I wanted the cameras to see this place. To see the good work that’s going on. To see that I was proud to be working here.”

“And get the added benefit of improving your image?”

“Why can’t it be good for both of us?”

I don’t have a good response to that. So, I just stand there, looking at him.

OK. Now I am mad that I can’t be mad at him. Great.

I take a deep breath in. “OK, apology accepted.”

“Did I apologize?”

I smack him on the arm.

“Yes, you apologized for not asking permission. I accept that apology. On one condition.”

“Which is?”

“You ask my permission before you bring another camera crew up here.”

Colton gives me some sort of salute. I roll my eyes, but I can’t stop the smallest curve of a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth.

“You have my word. Scout’s honor.”

“Were you ever a scout?” I laugh.

“No,” he grins sheepishly, “But I still promise. I mean that, Riley.”

I realize he is still holding the tweezers and the tick he removed from Bear.

“Let’s get rid of the medical gear and put the tick in a bag. I will give it to the vet to see if she wants to test it.“

As we walk away, I notice something in his hair.

“Colton,” I say as I point to the hair on the left side of his head. “You have something in your hair. I think it might be a twig.”

“Oh, I was lying on the ground, letting Bear come over to me. I probably have leaves and twigs all over me. Do you mind taking it out of my hair? My hands are kinda full,” he says as he shows the remnants of Operation Tick Removal.

“Sure”

I stepped closer, brushing my fingers through the tousled strands near his temple.

The twig came loose easily, but I didn’t step back right away.

His hair was warm from the sun. He smelled like cedar soap.

And maybe a faint trace of cologne—something woodsy with a hint of citrus, clean and masculine without trying too hard.

He stilled.

I could feel his breath shift and see his jaw muscles tighten ever so slightly. When I looked up, his blue eyes were already on me.

The space between us felt... different. Not flirty. But not friendly either.

I let my hand drop and took half a step back. “There. You’re twig-free.”

“Thanks,” he said, voice low.

Neither of us move.

If he leans in, I am not sure I will stop him.