For You (The 'Burg #1)(75)

“It’s scrambled eggs, Dad.”

“It’s f**kin’ beautiful, Feb.”

“Whatever,” I whispered, feeling embarrassed. This was, of course, the effect I was going for, for whatever reason, but getting it made me uncomfortable.

“Why aren’t you havin’ any?” Colt asked and my eyes went to him and then skittered over his shoulder.

“I don’t eat before yoga,” I informed him.

“Missin’ out, baby,” he said softly and my eyes skittered right back and I felt a warm heaviness hit me in three different places in my torso and I wondered if my camisole was holding up or if everyone could see my ni**les had gotten hard.

They ate in silence and then Colt moved to take his plate to the sink. He turned, reaching around me to grab a slice of toast off the stack. He was behind me and I felt his hand hit the small of my back.

“Walk me to the door, Feb,” he said in my ear.

I followed him to the dining table where he stopped, the toast in his teeth, to shrug on his holster and blazer then I followed him to the door.

He took a bite of the toast and as he chewed his other hand came to the top of my neck, under my jaw, his thumb jutting out to press under my chin and lift my face.

“Great mornin’, baby,” he whispered and that heady heaviness in my br**sts and between my legs got headier. “Which means me askin’ this is gonna suck.”

“Oh shit,” I said.

“Sully says Nowakowski wants you to make another list. The fifteen years you been away.”

I pulled in breath through my nostrils then I let it go and nodded which wasn’t easy with his thumb at my chin.

“They’ll need to know where to find ‘em so if you know, even last known whereabouts, you add that to the list.”

I nodded again.

He took in a breath before he said, “It’ll help them to know what they did. They might be able to lock down a victimology, try to guess who’s next. You’ll need to record that too and try and be thorough.”

I didn’t like doing this at all, but the last part I really didn’t like.

“Give yourself some time, do it after yoga,” Colt said. “You finish, you call me. Have someone walk it down to the Station when you get into the bar.”

I nodded again.

His face changed, I couldn’t put my finger on how but, I swear to God, it seemed like he looked like he was proud of me.

“I’ll call you when I get a reservation, tell you the time,” he said.

I nodded yet again.

“‘Tween then and now, honey, I suspect lots of shit is gonna go through your brain.”

He wasn’t wrong.

“Colt –”

He cut me off. “Ignore it.”

I closed my eyes and opened them again when his lips touched mine.

He lifted his head an inch away and stated quietly, “This is good.”

He wasn’t wrong about that either.

“Promise me, whatever marches through that head of yours, you stick with me. Tonight we’ll talk it out.”

“Colt –”

“Don’t say my name, give me your promise.”

I sucked in breath and when I let it out, I whispered, “I promise.”

His thumb left my chin to trail along my cheek.

Then he said, “I’ll be back soon as I can with your mat.”

“Thanks.”

“Later, baby.”

“Later.”

Then he let me go, unlocked the door and disappeared.

I turned to my parents and they were both openly watching me and more than likely had been openly watching Colt and me.

“Don’t start,” I warned.

“Got nothin’ to say,” Dad replied, “you know how we feel.”

I did and that didn’t help that feeling of fear that kept gnawing at my belly. Though it did make that feeling of happiness that was coating the region of my chest intensify more than a little bit.

“February,” Mom called when I dropped my head to look at the floor as I walked to the kitchen.

I lifted my head to look at her.

“No matter what, we love you, you know that?”

My step stuttered but I recovered. Then I swallowed.

Then I said, “I know that.”

“Now, can I have the last of the frittata?” Dad asked, eyeing my piece left in the skillet.

“Jack! That’s for Feb,” Mom scolded.

“She can make another one.”

“Jack!”

I hit the kitchen, grabbed the skillet and tipped it over Dad’s plate, sliding the last of the frittata onto his.

“We’re even for last night,” I said when I completed this task.

“What I saw at that door, girl, we already were,” Dad replied.

Damn, but I was definitely stupid.

* * * * *

Colt collected Feb’s mat, took it to his house and took advantage of the fact that her father was in one bathroom, her mother in the other and she was alone. Therefore, he spent some time necking with her pressed against the wall at the side of the front door. He did it until she moaned in his mouth and then he stopped, partly because he liked the idea of turning her on and then coming back to her later after she had time to let it stew. Mostly, because he liked her moaning in his mouth and if he didn’t stop, he wouldn’t have.