@bubblesj7 and I are starting a fic-writing ColReenie collab. Whoop! It'll be a series of one-shots and/or multi-chapter fics of Colter and Reenie doing New Things (from s2e4 and s2e6). We hope you enjoy!
Fandom: Tracker
Title: New Things - Chapter 1: Salsa (also on ao3)
“Strangest thing you learned to do as a kid?” Reenie asked, washing the last dinner dish.
“Mmm,” Colter hummed around a sip of his beer. “I learned a lot of bizarre things growing up.”
Reenie leaned her hip against the counter, drying her hands with a dishtowel and setting it next to the sink. “That’s why I’m asking,” she stated with a smile.
They couldn’t recall who had started it, but superlative questions had become a light-hearted game they played during cookouts—Colter grilling while Reenie sat watching the sun paint its colors across the sky, Reenie doing dishes after dinner, despite his protests that it wasn’t a trade-off. “You cook, I clean,” she’d explained. “And vice versa.” And that’s how it’d been done since.
The sun now cast evening rays through the Airstream windows, the scent of grilled chicken and veggies still lingering in the air, a slight breeze blowing in from the open windows. Colter sat sideways at the dinette, left arm braced against the counter next to him, right elbow on the table.
He looked good tonight—well, every night, she conceded. She didn’t think a piece of cloth existed that could make him look less attractive.—and the beams of sunlight lightened his hair to blonde and darkened his eyes to deep honey.
Despite how distracting him simply existing was, Reenie could tell he didn’t want to answer her question, which made her want to know even more.
“Noodling,” he finally responded, and she could hear the smirk hidden in his tone.
Reenie’s eyebrows shot up, a bemused look on her face. “Hand fishing?” she confirmed, and he nodded.
She put a hand on her hip and gave him a pointed look. “Hardly,” she scoffed. “I’ve seen you do at least 17 things stranger than that. What’s the real answer?”
She asked gently, but he knew the relentless questioning would never end if he didn’t tell the truth. She knew him too well for him to get away with anything else.
Colter dropped his head slightly and sighed before looking up at her. Her blue jeans hugged her in all the right places, places he wanted to touch: the flare of her hips, the curve of her butt, the dip in her waist. She was busty for her petite frame, and her dark green sweater highlighted her figure, a beautiful distraction he’d witnessed all evening.
“Salsa,” he finally admitted.
She nearly choked on her mouthful of beer. “Like...making it to dip your tortilla chips in?” she asked, slightly confused.
“No, like fancy footwork to lively music.”
One eyebrow and one side of Reenie’s mouth quirked up in disbelief. “Dancing…?”
Colter gave her a defeated look and nodded.
“And how exactly did your dad think that’d help with survival deep in the woods?”
He huffed a laugh. “No, it, uh...it was my aunt who taught us. She came up to stay with us for several weeks the summer before my dad died. Things were tense between my parents; between all of us, actually. She wanted to help my mom out and lighten up the mood for us, so she took us swimming, brought up some board games. Dory only ever wanted to play Monopoly...which Russell and I hated. He’d bargain with her and make her agree to do his chores to get him to play.” Colter chuckled, shaking his head. “Then he’d cheat to end the game early—with him as the winner, of course. So I’d help her with the extra chores while Russell gloated.” He smiled at the memory, then realized he’d gotten off track. “Anyway, she was a part-time dance instructor and decided teaching us to dance would help round out some of the...harsher aspects of our education. And that it’d be fun.”
Reenie face softened as she stood riveted listening to Colter talk about his childhood, especially something that seemed so lighthearted compared to everything else he’d shared—and lots more she knew he hadn’t. She treasured these moments, the glimpses into young Colter, before his dad died and his world shifted into something unrecognizable and even more isolated than the life his father had created for them.
“Was it?”
He smirked humorlessly. “What do you think? Learning to dance with your little sister?”
She chuckled. “Sounds like a party.”
“For teenage boys? More like a death sentence.”
“Hmm. I’m guessing it’s a skill you haven’t had to use much.”
“No, thankfully not.”
“Well, it’s high time.”
Colter stared blankly at her. “What do you mean?”
“We could make it a party,” she suggested, an inviting smile lighting up her face. “And you can teach me to salsa.”
“What?”
“Teach me. To salsa with you.”
“I…” He shook his head, the idea absurd—though the temptation to sway the night away with her, hands on her, teaching her sexy dance moves held an overwhelming appeal he couldn’t deny. “I don’t remember how.”
“Sure, you do.”
“Not gonna happen, Reenie,” he held his ground with a slight shake of his head.
He said it so assuredly, Reenie took it as a challenge. She put her beer down and closed the space between them, standing between his knees, looking down at him for once, and set her hands on his shoulders before sliding them to the nape of his neck.
“Colter Shaw,” she purred his name, a teasing spark in her gaze.
He usually towered over her, even in the death heels she wore, so her leaning over him made for an intriguing angle. Her long wavy hair framed her face, darkening her gaze seductively, and he stared up at her, besotted.
“Counselor.”
Reenie indulged him with a smile. He only called her that when he knew she was preparing to turn on her powers of persuasion.
Her thumbs brushed the short hair tapered at the back of his neck. “Teach me to dance with you?”
He pretended to consider her request, enjoying this curious, enticing, pleading side of her. He set his hands on her hips, then barely shook his head. “I don’t think I will.”
She gazed at him for a moment, the flash of defiance in his eyes, the barely-there quirk at the corner of his mouth, the challenge in his tone. “I think…” she drawled out, then gave him a quick peck on the lips. “You…” Another peck. “Can be…” She lingered this time. “Motivated.”
“Hmm.” His gaze flicked to her lips, then back up to her eyes. “You may be right,” he agreed. “But I don’t think your evidence has been persuasive. You’re going to need to present more for me to reach a verdict.”
With a flirtatious glint in her eyes, Reenie kissed him proper this time, her mouth moving agonizingly slow on his. He let her set the pace, her full lips tantalizing him with sweet, easy kisses. His tongue dipped into her mouth, tender and teasing but hungry.
She withdrew slowly, and he chased her lips. Reenie smiled knowingly.
“Keep talkin’” he encouraged, his voice low and gruff.
She kissed the corner of his mouth, then nipped kisses along his cheek to his jaw. “Please,” she breathed near his ear.
Her whisper sent shivers down his spine. “I do like it when you ask nicely.”
Reenie felt his breath against her neck, and she trailed kisses back to his mouth. His stubble lightly scratched her face, a delicious contrast to the soft hunger of his kiss. His fingertips griped her hips tightly, and she knew he was losing the battle.
She eased away from him, biting her bottom lip coyly, trying to hold in a pleased smile.
Colter knew she knew she’d won, but he didn’t care. Reenie slowly seducing him, her fingers in his hair, begging him to spend the evening dancing with her….he wasn’t exactly losing here.
He slowly slid his hands up and down along the swell of her hips. “You know...there’s a lot of hip movement required.”
“Is there, now?” Her nails still scraped erotic tingles along the back of his scalp. “Verdict’s in then, hmm?”
Goosebumps shivered down his neck, and he nodded. “I know it goes against everything you stand for, but you’ll need to take direction from me. It might have be one of these...new things...we’re trying.”
Reenie recalled that moment at the winery when he’d asked if she spent her free time with Elliott doing wine tastings and yoga. She hadn’t meant for her counter remark—that her plus-one enjoyed trying new things with her—to get under Colter’s skin, but he’d assured her he loved doing new things, his jealousy writ large.
She’d have forgotten all about it except a few weeks later he’d toasted to “new things” after she’d landed her first large client following the opening of her firm. Though his tone had been genuine and without a hint of jealousy, it told her how much her comment had bothered him. She loved vexing him, but that was one thing she wouldn’t tease him about.
So when they’d finally come to their senses, when he’d finally kissed her until she thought she’d melt into a puddle on the floor, she’d brought it back around to let him know she wanted New Things with him. “This is a helluva new thing,” she’d murmured, pleased, smiling up at him. “The first of many,” he’d promised, not missing a beat. And they reminded each other of their New Things as often as possible.
Now they could add salsa—and Colter teaching her, at that—to the list. Reenie smiled more at the live hunger in his eyes than his teasing words. “I’m up for it if you are,” she rejoined, letting the double entendre linger with a provocative smile.
“Yeah?”
She leaned into him, humming a kiss against his lips. “Mmmhmm.”
Colter slid his hands to her lower back, then slowly, sensuously up her spine, urging her closer to him. “I’m definitely up for it.” He said it without a hint of suggestion, but she knew better. Sometimes he played the game better than she did. “Maybe we just skip the dancing all together then.”
Reenie set her hands against his shoulders and pulled back a bit, refusing to let him get off that easily, and his hands slid back to set loosely on her hip. “Let’s start with salsa first. Before we...move on to tango?”
Colter growled deep in his throat at her powers of word-play and seduction. “I’m much better at tango than salsa,” he promised in a low voice, the corners of his mouth tipping up into a hint of a smile, his gaze heated. “But you already know that.”
“You should probably let me be the judge of that, big guy.”
Her breath fanned over his lips, her coy remark doing nothing to cool the heat she’d started in his blood, and Colter’s gaze turned dangerously dark.
With a knowing smile, Reenie took his hands off of her and clasped them, stepping back and tugging him to his feet. He came willingly and slipped his arms around her, nuzzling her neck.
“Ah-ah-ah,” she reprimanded, pulling away from him, though it pained her to do so. “Salsa first. New things, remember?”
His eyes slowly roamed down her body and up again, and she flushed under the heat of his gaze. “So many new things,” he murmured before his attention snapped back to her face.
“In time,” she promised. “For now, vertical dancing.” She smiled cheekily, and Colter cleared his throat, mentally shaking himself out of the bedroom for now.
She was a damn tease, and though he preferred more direct action, he could play her game. He was a master of control. He’d wanted her for years before they’d arrived at this moment; he was sure he could spend a while dancing her into a furious state of desire.
If she wanted salsa, he’d give her salsa. Give her whispered touches to thrumming tempos, those hip directions she was sure she could take, and flirtatious, sensual body waves, close but not close enough, until she was as mad with need as she made him feel now.
Colter nodded once. “Vertical dancing,” he agreed, pulling himself together.
Reenie had no idea what new things she was in for. But she was about to find out.
Fandom: Tracker
Title: The Things She Loves (also on ao3)
Reenie loved this softer side of Colter: one arm thrown askew, the slow rise and fall of his beautifully sculpted chest in time with the deep rhythm of his breathing, brow at ease, jaw relaxed, eyes fluttering beneath closed lids.
Oh, she loved verbally sparring with him too. She couldn't help laying on the playful jabs, teasing darts, flirty banter, and snarky comebacks. They came to her easily any time he was in her vicinity, a result of her wild attraction to him coupled with the amusement of making him—the smart, capable, devilishly handsome man—lose his cool just a bit. He'd never admit it, but she knew he enjoyed it, even if he found it slightly irritating at times. If he didn't, she'd have been out of the circle of trust long ago.
She equally loved the thrill his line of work brought to her life. Sure, it often skirted the too-dangerous-for-her-liking, but mostly it made her feel like she was doing something important in the world, something more useful with her education and expertise than defending high rollers against their infinitely bad and unlawful decisions. Plus, there was something powerful about a man like Colter needing her help and her being able to provide it.
Though she hated the idea of people going missing, she loved that a man like Colter existed. A man who never ceased to amaze with his incredible survival skills, who could shoot any number of firearms with militaristic precision, yet used his intellect, strength, and power to do good. Whose body was its own type of weapon. A man who cared about others, respected women, protected children, revered the elderly. A veritable saint by most standards, though she knew he’d balk at the thought.
She particularly loved that Colter existed. His grit and determination, his drive and focus, his integrity, devotion, and compassion all made him a stand-out among law enforcement types—not to mention men in general. The sheer goodness of him. To watch him work was incredible. And to look at him made her heart and body ache in ways she’d never known.
She loved the way her name sounded in his mouth, his smile that found her from across the room, how protected he made her feel, that her self-reliance and need for space didn’t bother him, that he had no desire to control her or quell her spirit, that he loved her for who she’d always been—and always would be: intelligent, strong, capable, powerful. How his hands on her created a symphony: thrums of anticipation, whispered touches that made her body sing, muted calls of fervor, fever pitches that lasted longer than she thought she could withstand, hearts beating in double time, hums of resounding desire, a rhythmic flow of octaves and pitches that crescendo-ed into strums of pleasure, measured moments, treasured time, beats of rest between the sharps and flats of love, a tempo for two.
The sheer power of his physique left her breathless, his body honed to perfection a sight she loved to behold. The tall leanness of him, dwarfing her in comparison but never using his stature to intimidate. The confident gait he didn’t even realize was sexy to watch. Those shoulders, broad enough to hold the weight of others’ hurts and expectations while carrying pains of his own. The strength of the back that held physical reminders of those pains, the visible scars that hurt him far less than those within. The bulk of his arms, powerful enough to both ward off danger and hold her without shame. The muscled chest that held his precious heart and her captive. Those washboard abs she loved to kiss just to make him squirm. Powerful thighs that propelled him towards danger—and then back home to her again. She loved every inch of him.
Loved running her fingers through his soft, spiky hair, dragging her nails along that scruffy, chiseled jaw, the pulse point along the column of his throat, from which came groans and growls that drove her mad. She loved the dreamy smile that sent sparks through her veins and kissing those lips that whispered both sweet nothings and naughty promises in the dark. And supported her every dream in the light. And the way he gazed at her with love in his eyes... Charming. Disarming. Her Adonis with a heart of gold.
She couldn’t help loving that he let her be soft in ways she’d never felt comfortable, that he’d taught her how to use her short stature and small hands to be weapons of self-defense, that he surprised her by remembering milestones.
But mostly, she just loved him: Colter, the man who’d given her his last name.
Kidnapping, pining, angst, you know my routine. Seems things never change. :)
Fandom: Tracker
Title: Hostage (also on ao3)
A/N: Colter's POV and a missing scene from s1e5 "St. Louis." Because Reenie gets kidnapped, and Colter has feelings about it.
Colter Shaw had grown accustomed to many things in his life: survival no matter the terrain he found himself in—the woods, the desert, the concrete jungle; how to take a hit or four and keep getting up when things didn't go his way; tuning out fear and wild shots of adrenaline to dial up the rational side of his brain; strategizing in any given scenario within a heart beat's time; keeping people at arm's length—or farther, if needs be; and successfully saving his tracked target 97 percent of the time.
But none of that helped in this moment because he had not become accustomed to knowing and caring deeply about the someone missing and in danger. In particular, one Reenie Greene, Esquire.
She’d had a bad feeling about this case, but Colter had felt confident he could handle whatever came his way—he usually could. It wasn't arrogance that told him he’d get Mallory safely back to St. Louis. It was practice and skill, honed over the course of a few decades and sharpened every time the world threw something new at him. Which was often. Some of what he did came from muscle memory, and some just from muscle. The rest came from ingenuity, necessity, and the desire to protect those who couldn't defend or save themselves.
Despite what most people thought—that he merely had dollar signs in his eyes—he cared far more about helping the people who relied on him to save those they loved. Like everyone, he needed a job; it just so happened that his particular skill set, niche and unique, was lucrative. The payouts simply allowed him to do what he did: drive to wherever the need arose, pay for his time, skill, and the risk the work required, cover any medical expenses he might incur, and hire a lawyer to help him out of sticky situations with the law.
Which was why Reenie was now held captive by a ruthless murderer.
Colter hadn’t thought that her helping him might actually put her in danger. The odds were minimal, a 12 percent chance at any given time, maybe. He’d believed that her powerfully sashaying through the halls of justice meant she was far from harm’s way—which also kept him out of any jail he happened to get thrown into. She'd only been back in his life a few months now, months in which he knew he'd smiled more and worried less knowing she was in his corner. She was a force to be reckoned with. But now...now...
He'd heard many tones from Reenie in the time he’d known her: competent lawyer, flirtatious and coy, angry, strong, defiant, saucy, in control, losing control, hot and bothered, breathy, coming wildly undone… Hell, he couldn't think about that right now. Or ever again, he scolded himself.
But he hadn’t heard this one: fear seeping into the bravado of her "Don’t listen to this wacko, Colter!", her wavering tone betraying her bravery.
It already had him reeling.
"If anything happens to her…" His tone sounded steady, even to his own ears, and he was grateful none of the dread pooling in his gut or the growing fear clawing at his insides bled into his threat. It wouldn’t bode well to reveal or give in to the emotions clamoring for purchase in his chest, threatening to run rampant.
I’d make the same threat for anyone, he thought. But he knew it wasn't true. And she wasn’t just anyone. He couldn't ever recall uttering those words to someone before.
“Let’s not muck this up with feelings.”
Loutreau’s words fell on him like a splash of icy water from his father., bringing an old soundtrack to the fore of his mind: feelings get in the way, make things complicated, cause you to trip up. You set feelings aside to maintain control. Feelings could be the noose you hang yourself with.
Colter knew they could also be the one thing that kept you going.
But not right now.
Loutreau was right: feelings just mucked things up. He needed to eliminate the cold dread crashing through him, but his heart pounded frantically against his ribs, and the temperature in the truck cab went up 20 degrees.
“If you ever want to see Reenie alive…”
Colter tuned the man out for a just a second and took a focused breath, drawing on years of practiced restraint. Emotions down, regain control. Lock it in, Shaw. There was an 87 percent chance Reenie didn’t make it if he didn’t pull himself together, a 99 percent chance of her survival if he did.
Calculating the probabilities helped him focus, the numbers recaliberating his mind. They wouldn’t hurt Reenie until they had what they wanted. She was leverage, not the target.
Knowing that didn’t quell the fear or dread of what they could do to her in the meantime, but it helped him gain a modicum of rationality. He’d make that 99 percent a 100.
Colter gathered his emotions and shoved them in a ball that sat low in his stomach, leaving them to thrum beneath the surface, like background noise setting the tone of what came next.
Mallory’s voice, desperate and afraid, pulled his focus in even sharper, and he assured her he could save them all.
He had to.
Reenie’s life depended on it.
______________________
His plan worked until it didn’t.
Colter hated having others on jobs with him. Ninety-two percent of the time, they acted as liabilities, throwing wrenches into his clockwork-like precision and causing mayhem, even when they didn’t mean to.
But he hadn’t had a choice with Mallory, and now his plan was shot to hell. He followed the sound of gunshots through the warehouse and rounded a corner to find...Reenie, hands zip-tied but holding a metal pipe and standing over the scum lawyer who’d set them all down this path.
She removed the gag from her mouth as he moved towards her, and Colter took everything in in a succession of snapshots. Loutreau laying on the floor out cold. Reenie still breathing. Her standing upright having struck her captor like the badass she was. Her alive and breathing, Her seemingly unharmed. Her upright and breathing.
Colter acted quickly through a haze of concern, cutting the ties binding her wrists, the sound of her breathing, heavy but steady, settling in his chest. His hands at her elbows, needing to see her, touch her, make sure she really was okay. But too quickly, she directed him to the side door where Mallory and Caesar had run. He hesitated, could feel the concern written on his face.
“Yeah?” he asked, not quite able to gather his jumbled thoughts to form a sentence. She looked frazzled but determined, scared but resolute.
“Go, go, I’m fine,” she assured him, and though her voice wavered, he took off running. The man would kill them all if he had the chance. They wouldn’t be safe until Colter neutralized him.
Caesar was good and Colter was better, but he felt distracted, taking more punches than normal. It took the man drawing a knife for Colter to finally hone in. The rest of the world—the crisp air of the night, Mallory’s fearful whimpering carrying on the wind, the sting in his leg and the blooming feeling in his jaw and ribs at the hits he’d absorbed, the amusement dancing in the back of his mind that even as a hostage, Reenie was telling him what to do—faded away and his instincts locked into place. And then, as sudden as a heartbeat, it was over.
His intention hadn’t been to kill, and he stared down at where Caesar lay on the ground. He was hardly the first man whose life Colter had ended, but it never sat well with him when it happened. Emotions anew flooded him. Relief, regret, guilt, uncertainty, wondering if he could’ve—should’ve—done something different in the heat of the moment.
Colter heard footsteps approaching, and he spun around, still on edge, just as Reenie reached him.
“Colter, you okay?” she breathed. Her fingertips lightly grazed his ribs as her eyes cataloged his face, then his torso, for injuries.
He stared at her for a moment, full of adrenaline and relief, her completely unaware of the turmoil she caused within him, of the way her hands skimming his body made his stomach flip and his heart ache. The stimulants of fear and the fight coupled with the sedative of relief sent a strange and overwhelming concoction of hyper-awareness to his senses, a maelstrom he didn’t recognize, and he suddenly either needed her hands all over him or removed from him entirely.
He knew which option he preferred, but the latter seemed a better decision given the current circumstances.
“I’m fine,” he said gruffly, lightly grabbing her wrists and setting her hands away from him.
A light gasp escaped Reenie’s lips, and Colter instantly loosened his grip, the confused frustration immediately draining away at his having hurt her. “Sorry,” he breathed, gently turning her hands over to join her at inspecting the wounds circling her wrists. Swollen red bands marked where the zip-ties had restrained her and told how she’d struggled against them. They hadn’t broken through the skin, but the angry welts would take days to heal.
“It’s not that bad,” she said, and his gaze flicked up to her.
Her voice didn’t waver, but he knew she had to have been terrified. Not many people escaped the likes of Caesar Ashford and lived to tell. Yet here she stood, checking on him, when he should be inspecting her for wounds.
As it was, he found it hard to breathe. She was strong, capable, brave, and had given Loutreau the concussion he deserved.
And he was in awe.
Without thinking, his thumbs whispered over the marks left by ruthless men. “You okay?” He felt the weight of the question in his chest, two words that fell infinitely short of all he couldn’t say but desperately yearned to ask.
She gave a small nod, still peering at his large hands cupping hers like they belonged there, and he felt the air around them come alive. Colter couldn’t stop staring at her, this beautiful, frustrating, incredible woman before him, even as everything inside him screamed to run, far and fast and forever, to leave the danger of her behind him. Again.
She did things to him he couldn’t understand or explain, made him feel ways no one ever had. She kept him on his toes and got under his skin and drove him crazy and made him long for her and said things that left him wanting to kiss her just to quiet that beautiful mouth of hers. She simultaneously made him think quicker and more slowly, and he couldn’t figure out how that was possible. It’d been years since he’d felt so discombobulated...since the last time she’d been a part of his life. And he’d left her like...how had she described him? A guilty frat boy?
He’d like to think he’d grown a bit in the past few years, enough to not hurt her like that again. But clearly not enough to have learned how to keep himself in check around her. She twisted his insides like a weaved tapestry he couldn't unravel, and it drove him to utter distraction. And distraction was a detriment in his line of work. It could get him killed. It could get her killed.
He could take the risk for himself; his work demanded it of him. But there was zero percent chance he’d willingly risk her.
He needed distance. And this time he’d leave before things got heated.
________________________
Colter ate a quick breakfast, washed the dishes, and repacked the overnight bag he always kept at-the-ready with freshly washed clothes. It was time to put St. Louis and the feelings it’d surfaced in him into the rear view. Reenie was working with the police on behalf of Mallory, both were safe, and he needed the highway hypnotically rumbling beneath him to drown out the noise in his heart, the tumult in his brain. He felt a gnawing desperation to leave before he had to face Reenie again.
Teddi and Velma had found any number of lawyers to help him over the past few years, and he selfishly longed for the simplicity of those days. No tangled history to confuse things, no magnetic attraction distracting him, no roadblock of unwanted feelings, no unrecognizable wave of emotion burgeoning in his chest when her name came up or she teased him or smiled at him like he’d hung the moon or she got kidnapped and he lost all sense of himself.
No wondering when he’d see her again or flash of hope that her picture would pop up on his phone when it rang.
Get it together, man.
There was a 100 percent chance he’d see Reenie again soon, but he needed that to happen farther down the road, after he’d had time to sort himself out.
Frustrated at himself, he zipped the duffle bag closed and velcro’d the handles together.
“Oh, yeah, I see how it is,” Reenie’s voice teased from outside the Airstream.
Damn it all, he couldn’t catch a break.
“Skipping town without saying goodbye. Typical.”
He steeled himself, even as his heart skipped a beat. At least she could tease him about his ‘frat boy’ move now without anger or hurt in her voice, and despite himself, in spite of all the warning bells clanging in his head, he couldn’t help the smile that broke across his face.
And then he looked at her. Standing casually at his door, that playful smile she always wore around him gracing her face, eyes sharp with wit, hair soft and full around her face. She was too much, and he only wanted more of her.
Focus on the work, he commanded himself as he stepped outside. The last thing he needed right now was her invading both his private and his personal space. As it was, it took everything he had to play it cool.
“What’s gonna happen to Mallory?”
It sounded abrupt to his own ears, and he mentally grimaced. Reenie didn’t seem to notice though; her answer came with a flirty smile on her face as she stared up at him, beguiling in her Reenie-ness.
Colter had to look away for a moment to gather himself. Just say goodbye and leave.
“Well…” he sighed, unsure how to extract himself from her. Not entirely wanting to, but 100 percent needing to. Today. Right now. Before the facade slipped and he revealed this silly infatuation that she most certainly didn’t share after what he’d done last time. He wouldn’t screw things up with her again. She was a formidable ally he couldn’t afford to lose. He definitely needed her in his corner and talking to him.
Just not at this moment. Not until he had time to figure himself out.
Her face broke into a smile of genuine happiness. At him.
The woman was stunning. Beautiful. Flirty.
Dangerous.
Warning bells flared in his mind. Keep it light. Extract yourself.
“You know, I’m really glad they didn’t kill you.”
She was right: you’re an idiot. She made him feel like a bumbling teenager trying to impress the head cheerleader.
But a cheerleader you saved, something in the back of his mind noted.
He barely registered the words she spoke, more intent on the fact she was still alive and full of life, vigor, and sass, with a pinch of sweet thrown in.
Despite his attempt to remain aloof, he felt his face stretch into a smile, his eyes never leaving her. The smile she returned made his blood burn in his veins. She had a hold on him he didn’t know how to undo.
Except to run.
Still channeling the idiot, he held out his hand like she was nothing more to him than an acquaintance and said confidently, “Until next time.”
She hesitated, her smile more than anything letting him know she was humoring him. “Until next time.”
Whereas he’d gone for dismissive, Reenie stated it like a veritable promise, one that settled itself into his heart. But it wasn’t until her hand was in his that he realized his mistake.
Her skin was cool, her smile warm, and he could so easily tug her towards him, burrow her against his chest where she’d ignited flames, hold her like he ached to. The thought made his heart skip a beat, and a soft “Um-hmm” escaped him before he realized it.
He stood there—like the idiot she’d said he was—shaking her hand, an idiotic smile on his face. It was only her loosening her grip and stepping back that made him let her go.
That damn coy smile stayed on her face as she turned away, and he blissfully, painfully watched her walk away from him until she rounded the back of the Airstream and was gone.
Colter let the sappy smile fade from his face as he locked up the trailer, suddenly feeling bereft. It’s better this way, he reminded himself. Better for her that he couldn’t hurt her or get her further entangled in the dangers of his life. Better for him that he could focus solely on his job.
Something in him begged him to go after her, but instead he forced his legs to carry him to the cab of the truck. It had to be done now. No more heart flutters, lingering gazes, or sweet exchanges with the alluring lawyer that sometimes stole his breath. The feelings had to go.
He had plenty of miles to work on that. The road stretched out before him, and he set his mind on what came next: someone who needed his help, no beautiful attachments that threatened his sanity, and the opportunity to tuck everything that’d come spilling out of his heart back into a safe little box where, he hoped, it’d never escape from again.
