Colt said nothing, simply watched her, his fingertip still smoothing stray hairs back on her hairline.
“Do you know,” she said with a wry twist of her mouth, “that when I broke up with Allan for the last time, people in town kept coming up to me to give me advice. At first I thought it was sweet that they were so concerned with my happiness. And then I realized that they were giving me advice because they’d felt I’d done something wrong. That I’d been the one that somehow screwed up. And that with their guidance, they were sure they could make him love me again.” The laugh that escaped her throat was bitter.
“Does it help much if I say I always hated everyone in town, too?”
A tiny laugh escaped her, and she smothered it with a hand. “No. Well, a little. I’m sorry to unload on you about Allan.”
“Don’t be,” he said, his voice a low, soft drawl. “I always thought he was a jackass, but I didn’t realize how much of one.”
She smiled and shook her head. “It’s not his fault. Or I should say, it’s only half his fault. He made me half a person because I let him. After we broke up, I decided I was going to be Beth Ann from now on. I was going to do things that people didn’t expect Allan’s fiancée to do. I was going to say what I thought, and do what I wanted.”
A tiny flash of dimple appeared in his cheek. “And have you?”
“I opened my salon,” she admitted. “Everyone thought I should go to college, but I didn’t want to spend four years waiting for my life to start again. I wanted to start it right away, and I’d been taking beautician classes on the side. Hair and makeup has always been something I was good at, and I loved making other people feel special. It just seemed like the right move for me—to open a salon and run my own business, doing my own thing. Not dependent on anyone for anything. My father didn’t approve of his oldest daughter being something as common as a hair-dresser. He thinks ‘trophy wife’ is an acceptable occupation. And I thought Allan was going to have a fit over that. He didn’t think I could do it. But I am, and I’m doing just fine,” she said proudly. “And I dress how I want, not how I thought Allan’s fiancée should dress.”
His fingers slid to the strap of her dress. His T-shirt was hanging on a hastily erected frame, drying near the fire. She was wearing her dress, of course, but for the first time today, she was acutely aware of how much skin it exposed. And it was exciting.
“This?” he asked, and tugged on the strap.
She could have sworn his voice dropped a husky note that made her pulse flutter with longing. “This,” she agreed. “I’m going to be me, and if it takes twenty years, I’m going to do all kinds of things that no one would expect from me.”
His fingertip lightly traced the skin under the thin strap of her dress. “Such as?” he said huskily.
Her entire world now seemed to be focused on that graze of his finger over her skin. It felt wonderful and ticklish and exciting and utterly alarming all at once. Beth Ann suddenly felt like a teenager on her first date again.
And she rather liked the feeling. “All kinds of things,” she whispered.
“Like what?” He grinned down at her. “What does Bluebonnet not expect sweet Beth Ann Williamson to do?”
She looked up at him leaning over her, beautiful and hard in the shadows, his face all angles. Her body was aching with need—need that hopefully wasn’t one-sided. She gathered her courage—she’d never know unless she asked. “I’ve never had a one-night stand.”
FIVE
Colt stared down at her, surprised. His erection was rock hard in his pants, yet he paused. What the hell was she thinking? Beth Ann was beautiful, and funny, and so incredibly sweet she made his entire body ache with need.
And here she was propositioning him?
Below him, she licked her lips and looked suddenly uncertain. “I’m guessing that request was not a flattering one?”
What, was she crazy? “Ain’t that,” he said softly. “Just trying to figure out what’s going through this thing right about now.” He tapped a fingertip to her temple.
He liked her. He liked her a lot. But he sure as hell didn’t want to be part of some revenge plot to get even with her ex-boyfriend.
Even if he did hate the guy.
Beth Ann suddenly looked chagrined. “You can tell me no, you know. You won’t hurt my feelings.”
God, she thought he was turning her down?
“I mean, I don’t normally proposition men,” she began in a rush.
He put a finger over her lips, silencing her. “I just want to make sure…” Well, hell. How to put it delicately. “That this isn’t something you’re going to regret.”
She gave him a wide-eyed look. “I’ll regret it if you’re lousy at it.”
He snorted, amused. “You know what I mean. Didn’t you say you didn’t want a relationship without trust?”
“This is a one-night stand. That’s different.”
So she wanted no-strings sex with him? Avoid the relationship thing entirely? He stared at her dubiously.
“I know what you’re trying to ask me,” she said, and reached for him. Her fingers danced along his shoulder, and slid down his arm, tracing a vein in his biceps, and he was effectively distracted once more. “You want to make sure I’m not doing this to get back at Allan.”
“The thought did cross my mind,” he admitted. He wanted to touch her back, explore her the way she was exploring him. But until she told him what he wanted to hear, it was a no-go. He wasn’t that big of a dick.
“It’s not about Allan,” she said softly. “It’s about me, wanting things and actually going after them instead of caring what others think.”
“And you want a one-night stand?” Damn, if his dick got any harder, he was going to lose his mind.
“I want you,” she admitted. “We can start with one night and see how it turns out. But if you’re not interested, let me know.”
“You slept curled up against my hard-on last night, and you’re going to sit here and tell me that you’re not sure if I’m interested?” He could feel the smile stretching his mouth. “Platonic, not dead, remember?”
Her hand slid to his tattoo, and she brushed her fingertips over it. “So is that a yes?”