When Colt heard it, he couldn’t bite back his smile.
Colt opened the front door, entered and shouted over the loud music, “Baby, I’m home.”
“Be right out,” he heard Feb’s words coming down the hall.
Wilson trotted into the room, stopped, looked at Colt and let out a loud meow.
“Quiet, cat,” he muttered and Wilson replied with a louder meow.
Colt shrugged off his blazer then his shoulder holster. He hooked the blazer around the back of a dining table chair, threw the holster on the table and then he unclipped his badge and threw that on it too. He hit the kitchen and saw the remote for the stereo sitting by Feb’s cell phone. He picked up the remote, pointed it into the den and turned down the music. Then he looked at her cell phone and was grateful for the music, seeing as she had twelve missed calls, all of them likely about them playing “Livin’ on a Prayer” at their wedding reception, a reception Feb didn’t know about yet. Then Colt went to the cupboard with the cat treats and Wilson let out another loud meow.
Colt shook the treats into his palm then he threw one into the living room. Wilson watched it go until he lost sight then he ran after it. Colt couldn’t see the cat but he heard another meow and he sent another treat sailing and heard Wilson’s cat feet chasing after it.
This happened twice more before Feb’s voice came from the hall again.
“You’re making him fat.”
She was right. This had come to be Colt and Wilson’s habit when Colt got home and Wilson was getting fat. Feb had put a limit on three treats a night. Colt and Wilson ignored that limit and jacked it up to six. This was mostly because, if Colt didn’t go to six, Wilson wouldn’t shut up.
“He’s fine,” Colt said, his hand up about to throw another treat before Feb hit the room and he saw her.
She was wearing a skintight, dark purple dress and a pair of high-heeled, sexy sandals. Her makeup was heavier than normal and nearly as sexy as her shoes. Her hair was partially sleeked but it had more wave and volume than usual and it was far sexier than her shoes. Colt felt the vision of her score a path from his lungs, through his gut, straight to his dick.
He’d been right. She had something planned tonight and he sure as fuck wasn’t letting her steal his goddamned thunder.
“That’s quite a dress,” he remarked when he could speak again then Wilson meowed, he threw the cat treat and Wilson’s paws could be heard scampering after it.
“That’s enough treats,” Feb replied, stopping opposite the dining table and putting her hands to her hips which meant the material at her tits stretched tight and he felt that in his dick too.
He shook out another treat and sent it sailing.
“Colt!” Feb snapped
“Come here,” Colt replied.
Her eyes went to the microwave and then back to his. “You’re late. It’s six forty-five. We’ve gotta go.”
Colt put the lid back on the treats and set it on the counter before he repeated, “Come here, Feb.”
She ignored him and said, “Can I drive?”
“No,” Colt answered. “Come here.”
She tipped her head to the side. “Why can’t I drive?”
“Deal was you could have that car as long as I don’t have to get in it. Remember?”
“That was a stupid deal,” she muttered.
“You agreed to it.”
“I was coerced,” she shot back and this was true. She’d played him using her shoes, her hands, her mouth, her ass, her pussy, her lacy teddy and the pool table and, after she got what she wanted, he’d played her right back.
Her hands went from her hips to cross on her chest. “Come on, Colt, it’s a new car. I like drivin’ it.”
“We’re goin’ somewhere, anywhere, I drive and I don’t drive a fuckin’ Beetle.”
She rolled her eyes saying, “You’re such a man.”
This was true too but Colt decided not to agree to something that was obvious.
“Feb, not gonna say it again,” Colt warned her. “Come here.”
He watched as her eyes locked on him and her body locked too.
Then she asked, “Why?”
“Just do it.”
“Why?”
“Feb –” he started.
But she muttered, “Oh all right,” dropped her arms and walked to him in the kitchen. As she did so, he put his hand in his pocket, palmed the ring there and pulled his hand back out.
She stopped in front of him, tipped her head back and asked, “What?”
Colt leaned his hips back against the counter and looked at her.
There had been a time in his life when he knew without a doubt this moment would come and then there was a time in his life when he knew without a doubt this moment would never come. The first he took for granted. The second had cut so deep, it’d been raw for decades and he’d had to learn, with some difficulty, to ignore it.
When he was twenty-two, he’d had thoughts of tulips and candlelight and even getting down on his knee.
Now that the time was there, he didn’t mind that he was going to do it in a kitchen with his hips against the counter and Feb impatient to get to Costa’s so she could do what he was just then going to do. He knew from the way she behaved at the Station that she wanted to talk about marriage and he wasn’t about to let her do it without his ring on her finger.
“You know I love you,” he told her and her ear dipped to her shoulder just as her eyes went soft and her lips tipped up.
“Yeah,” she whispered.
“Love you enough to let you get that damned car,” he said and the softness went out of her face.
“I’m thinkin’ the word ‘let’ when you’re talkin’ about me should be banished from this house,” she declared and Colt grinned.
“Love you enough to let you spend your money on my garage.”
“Our garage.”
“Instead of heels.”
“Colt, hello?” she called. “Black, red…” she pointed to her feet, “now matte silver.”
“Matte silver?” Colt repeated, still grinning.
“The color of my shoes,” she informed him and he looked down.
“Is that what that’s called?”
“Like you care,” she mumbled and he looked back at her.
“You’re right, I don’t care.”
She rolled her eyes and his hand shot out, nabbing her behind her neck and pulling her forward. She lost her balance and landed full-body against him, her hands at his waist, fingers curled into the material of his shirt there as his other arm snaked around her waist.
He wrapped his fist in her hair and tugged her head back. “Love it when you roll your eyes, baby,” he whispered and her expression grew soft again.
“What’s got into you tonight?” she whispered back, her eyes searching his face. “You’re acting weird.”
“I want it big,” he answered and those dents formed at her brows again. “The biggest.”
“Want what big?”
“Our wedding.”
She closed her eyes and lifted her brows and when she opened them again, his right hand took her left and pulled it in front of them. He watched her eyes drop to their hands but he didn’t take his from hers so he could watch the wonder that stole into her features as he slid his ring on her finger.
When he’d seated the ring at the base, he repeated quietly, “The biggest.”
“Colt,” she whispered to their hands, her eyes on the diamond there.
“Food, a band, dancing, a shitload of flowers and you in a white dress,” Colt told her, pressing her hand flat to his chest and her eyes went to his as his arm curled back around her waist to hold her body close.
“Colt.”
“We’re ridin’ away on a Harley, though.”
“Colt.”
“Honeymoon on a beach.”
“Colt.”