Fueled (Driven, #2)(21)
“Whoa, what’s that for?” He laughs.
“Just because I’m going to miss you when you leave.” I release him just as quickly as I hugged him and walk into the restaurant. The kitchen door shuts quickly as I walk past it toward the bathroom at the far side of the dining area.
When I emerge from the bathroom, I am preoccupied watching an adorable curly haired toddler trying to use a fork. One hand instinctively moves to rest on my lower abdomen and presses there. The pang hits me harder than usual watching her, and I can only assume it’s because of what tomorrow’s date signifies. The anniversary that took everything from me. Robbed me of the one thing I want more than anything in the world.
The one thing I would give up everything—everything—I have, if I could only have the chance again.
I’m so wrapped up in memories that I don’t notice the commotion toward the patio until I hear, “What the hell are you doing?” It’s my brother’s voice, and it takes me a couple of seconds to maneuver around the tables to try and get in the line of sight of our table.
“The lady’s with me, *. Keep your hands to yourself. ”
My heart stops.
I’d know that rasp of a voice anywhere. I rush quickly to the doorway, my pulse pounding and incredulity in my expression. I emerge out onto the patio to see Colton’s hand fisted in the front of my brother’s shirt, his jaw clenched, eyes full of fire. Tanner, who is still seated, is looking up at him, a smarmy look on his face. His shoulders are rigid, hands clenched quietly at his sides. The testosterone is definitely flowing.
“Colton!” I shout out.
He glances over at me and locks onto my eyes, a mixture of anger, jealousy, and aggression vibrating off of him. Tanner glances over at me, an eyebrow arching in question, his tongue tucked in his cheek.
“Colton, let go!” I demand as I stride toward him. “It’s not what you think.” I pull on his arm, and he shrugs out of my grasp, but he finally releases his hold on my brother. My heartbeat slowly decelerates. Tanner rises from his seat and squares his shoulders to Colton, an indiscernible look on his face. “Ace, meet my brother, Tanner.”
Colton’s head whips over to look at me, annoyance and hostility giving way to recognition. I can see a myriad of emotions flickering through his eyes: relief, discomfort, irritation.
I look at my brother, still unable to read him. “Tanner, this is my…” I falter, unsure what to label him. “Meet Colton Donavan.” I watch Tanner as his synapses start firing, realizing who is standing in front of him. Who I’m dating.
The tension in Colton’s shoulders relaxes some and a disbelieving smile tickles the corners of his mouth. Unapologetically, he reaches his hand out to shake Tanner’s hand. Tanner looks at Colton and his outstretched hand and then over at me. “So, Bubs, this is the *?” he asks, his eyes silently imploring if this is who is the current cause of my tears.
I look at him, a timid smile gracing my lips. “Yes,” I murmur answering both spoken and unspoken questions and glance over at Colton.
“Well shit,” Tanner says, grasping Colton’s hand and shaking it vigorously. “Have a seat man.” He exhales. “I need a f*cking beer after that.” I stare at both of them, mystified at how men operate. Ready to go to blows one minute, in complete understanding the next.
“I’d love to, but I’m late for my afternoon meeting.” He emits a sliver of a laugh. “Nice to meet you though. Maybe another time?” Colton turns his gaze on me. “Walk me out?”
I look at Tanner and he nods at me as if to tell me to go. I exhale, not realizing I’m holding my breath, suddenly nervous to be alone with Colton. Nervous to play the disinterested and aloof card. “I’ll be right back,” I tell Tanner, feeling like a little kid asking for his consent.
“Tanner.” Colton nods at my brother in goodbye before placing his hand on the small of my back and steering me through the kitchen and out the side door of the restaurant.
The brief time it takes to walk toward a staff exit, I think of how we ended things the last time we spoke. Of the two options he gave me, pit stop or arrangement. That I gave him his pit stop, but I still feel unsettled. That because I’ve been swimming in lack of reassurance, regardless of the term, I still feel like one in a long line of bedtime companions.
I shake the thought away, forcing myself to step outside of my overemotional, over-analytical head and acknowledge that with most, success comes in baby steps. And even though Colton hasn’t expressed wanting anything more than an arrangement with me, he took a baby step in calling ‘pit stop’. No more wishy-washy, I tell myself as I recall Haddie’s advice on how to interact with him. Aloof, unattainable, but desirable.
As Colton pushes open an exit door and ushers me outside, I’m preparing myself for the question of why I’ve not called him back. He’s called me twice and I’ve physically forced myself to not react and pick up phone.
Colton shuts the door and turns around to face me. Screw being unattainable. It takes all of my dignity to not push him up against the wall and kiss him senseless. The man makes me absolutely irrational and completely wanton.
He crosses his arms over his chest and stares at me, his head angled to the side. “So your brother’s in town?”
I give an unladylike snort. “I think we already established that,” I answer dryly, fighting the urge to gap the distance between us. “Got a short fuse, do we?”