For You (The 'Burg #1)(137)
“You were in there a lot longer than it took to hand Colt a mug of coffee,” Jessie, always nosy, remarked.
I resumed my place at the counter about the same time my eyes hit hers, not together enough to remind myself that I usually kept myself to myself, even sometimes with friends, and I shared, “Colt’s decided I’m moving in with him, I think he still loves me, he told me he missed me, the Feds have offered us protective custody and it’s my decision if we go away while this all goes down.”
Jessie stared at me eyes wide for three beats then she said, “You weren’t in there long enough for all that.”
“Colt’s focused. He has to get to the Station.”
“Are you moving in with him?” Josie asked and I looked at her.
“You didn’t hear me. Colt’s decided I’m moving in with him and he’s focused. He didn’t actually open it up for discussion.”
“He told you to move in with him?” Jessie asked, her eyebrows so far up, half her forehead disappeared. It was clear by the look on her face she couldn’t wrap her mind around this concept. I doubt Jimbo ever told Jessie to do anything. Then again, I also doubted Jimbo was up for the task of holding her by her ass with her back pressed against the wall while he f**ked her, hard, until she had a mind-boggling orgasm.
“Pretty much,” I said.
“I repeat, are you moving in with him?” Josie asked again.
I looked at Josie, so did Jessie. We all knew the history, too well. And anyway, we’d all just watched him walk through the living room. Half the women alive on earth who saw him walk through the living room wouldn’t quibble if he told them to move in with him. He’d capped it with that kiss, which I wasn’t going to share, that was Colt’s and mine.
“He has a nice kitchen,” I said by way of explanation and we all burst out laughing.
“Women,” Brad muttered under his breath as he walked through the living room and we all turned to look at Brad.
He was probably twenty-three, twenty-four and he spent a lot of time at J&J’s playing pool with his buddies intermingled with trying to score. He wasn’t a bad looking guy, great body, not exactly tall, not short either, but very fit, though he needed some fashion direction. By my estimation, considering I didn’t keep close tabs, he was half and half with the ladies, hit and miss. It wasn’t that he struck out often; it was just that he’d do a lot better with practice.
He was nowhere near experienced enough to mutter the word “women” like that. However, I had learned from a lot of practice at keeping my mouth shut at the shit I heard at the bar to do exactly that. Keep my mouth shut.
Jessie never kept her mouth shut.
“Bradley Goins, learn quick, little man. You’re in the abode of the master. You pay attention, you too can someday tell a hot chick she’s gonna move in with you and she won’t talk back.”
Chip chuckled as he bent over his big tool box. I shook my head. Brad mumbled, “Whatever.” Josie pulled her cell out of her purse, expertly flipped it open with one hand, hit a button and put it to her ear.
“Heidi? Get this. Listen.” She held her phone toward the living room for a second, then put it back to her ear and asked, “You hear that?” She paused as my eyes slid to Jessie who was grinning so huge I thought her face would split in half. “No? Well that’s a shower goin’ and in that shower is Alec Colton and I’m in his livin’ room.” She paused again while I heard a loud squeal come from her phone. “Yeah, that’s right, sister. I’m about two rooms away from a na**d Alec Colton.”
“Jesus,” Chip muttered and Jessie and I started laughing.
“Yeah, you got it,” Josie continued, “a na**d and wet Alec Colton.”
“Bet you forgot this part,” Jessie said to me, still laughing.
“What part?”
“Every woman in town pantin’ after your man.”
I didn’t forget it. I just forgot that feeling of not worrying about it. Once my brain led me to the path of worrying about it when Colt wouldn’t have sex with me, it was all I could think of. I scanned my emotions and tried to find a hint of anxiety. When I couldn’t find it, I shrugged to Jessie and grabbed the white bag with Colt’s muffin in it. I put the muffin on a plate, split it in half with a knife, smothered it in butter and set it in the microwave, ready to nuke when he came out of the shower.
“By the way,” Josie said into her phone when I closed the door on the microwave, “I got it official, was right here when it went down. Colt and Feb are baaaaaaaaaaaack.”
“Jesus, that shit’ll be all over town in half an hour,” Chip muttered again but, hearing Josie’s happiness at relating this news, I felt something get tight in my chest. It didn’t feel bad because I knew Colt had been right. People never stopped liking me. Not Josie, her sister Heidi, her husband Chip, Joe-Bob, Lorraine and the dozens upon dozens of people who didn’t stop coming to the bar when it became mine or when trouble hit. People who didn’t stop talking to me, smiling at me, laughing when I told a joke. People who were coming now to watch the Colt and Feb Show only partly because they were curious but mostly because they cared, not just about Colt, but about me.
I hid the sudden emotion this knowledge welled up inside me behind a sip of my now-cold Meems’s latte. It was a struggle to get the sip down, not because it didn’t still taste good, but because I had a huge lump on my throat.