When I remain silent, she continues, “He doesn’t allow a lot of people into his life.” Her lips quirk at the corners. “You must be special.”
I shake my head, unwilling to let that little seed get planted in my psyche. “We’re just friends.” I force the words from my lips not only for her benefit but mine as well. Allowing myself to get caught up in the moment would be a mistake. I’ve been burned before. I’m unwilling to chance it again.
“Hmm. That’s too bad. I think you would be perfect for him.”
Once upon a time, I’d thought the same thing.
Now I know better.
As I finish up with the last dish, someone clears their throat from the arched entryway. I nearly bobble the plate before setting it carefully on the drying rack as my gaze slams into Colton’s blue one.
His arms are crossed over his chest as he leans casually against the doorframe. “Do you mind if I steal Alyssa away?”
Jenna picks up the delicate China from the wooden drying rack. “Of course not. We’ll have dessert in about thirty minutes. Sound good?”
“Yup.” This time, when he stretches out his hand, I don’t bother to fight it. There are so many emotions warring inside me. I gravitate across the kitchen before taking hold of his larger one. As I do, a spark of energy tingles through my fingertips. The chemistry between us is like a living, breathing entity. It always has been. As much as I’ve tried to fight it, it’s not a battle I will ever win.
With a gentle tug, he pulls me through the gallery and foyer before we climb the sweeping staircase to the second floor. My mind buzzes on sensation overload. Without trying, Colton rouses all the dormant emotions locked inside of me. As much as I want to keep him at a safe distance, it’s impossible to remain indifferent.
Once on the second-floor landing, I’m given a bird’s eye view of the entryway. “Your house is beautiful.”
“Thanks. My dad built it after he and Jenna got married.”
“How long have they been together?” I ask, genuinely curious about Colton’s family.
His brow furrows in contemplation. “Let’s see, they got married when I was seven years old. So, they’ve been together for fourteen years. The trip they’re taking at Christmas is to celebrate their fifteenth wedding anniversary.”
I nod, processing that tidbit of information. “She’s really nice.” It’s obvious that Colton and his stepmother have a genuinely close relationship.
“Jenna is amazing.”
Our shoes click against the glossy hardwood that stretches throughout the hallway. Family photographs dot the walls. I’m tempted to stop and study them. This is the first time that I feel like I’ve been given a rare peek into who the real Colton Montgomery is. I’m loath to push too hard or do anything that will shut down his inclination to share more of himself with me.
When he opens the last door on the right, I realize with a glance that he’s taken me to his bedroom. The walls are painted navy, and there is a king-size bed dominating the space. A sleek dresser and desk match the dark wood of the bed frame. A plush velvet sofa is arranged on the opposite side of the room, along with a matching chair and antique coffee table, making an intimate spot to relax and chat. Next to the sitting area is a wall of built-in cabinetry. A mini-fridge is tucked beneath the counter and a fancy stainless steel coffee maker takes precedence on the sleek marble countertop.
Across the room are two arched doorways. I imagine one is a walk-in closet, and the other is a private en suite. The place resembles a tiny apartment. The walls are dotted with football memorabilia and more framed photographs. Some are in color, while others are in black and white. If Colton weren’t standing next to me, tracking my every movement, I’d take my time and stroll around the space, studying it with more care.
Unsure what to do, I separate myself from him and settle on the comfy couch. Instead of following me to the sitting area, he wanders to the desk before lounging against it. His easy stance belies the tension that crackles in the air between us.
I shift, unnervingly aware that his gaze is fastened on me. “Your parents are nice. I like them.”
“The feeling is mutual.” There’s a pause as remorse flickers across his expression. “I should have introduced you sooner.”