As I stood there, letting my thoughts and insecurities carry me away, Colby’s hand lifted. He twirled a strand of my hair, then moved his thumb under my chin, tilting my head toward him.
“Life would be so much easier if you weren’t so beautiful.”
Was that a compliment? Sure, it was flattering to be called beautiful, but did he mean it’d be easier to not drunkenly fall into bed with me if he thought I was unattractive? After all, shouldn’t Colby, the guy who knew me better than almost everyone else, see beyond my looks?
“I think you took that the wrong way.” His eyebrows slanted down as he studied my expression.
“Not really sure how to take it.”
His hand dropped from my chin and he stared at the ceiling, lifted his cap, then settled it back on his head. “Inside and out.”
“Oh.” Well, that changed everything.
“I wouldn’t feel so guilty about this.” His hand moved back to my hair, toying with the long strands hanging over my shoulder.
My hand slid back down his chest, and I stared at my nails. “Is that why this only happens when you’re drinking?”
“What? No.”
I looked up.
“I feel this way every freaking second of every damned day.” Then he leaned in, his mouth making its way toward mine. And just as his top lip brushed my bottom one, the front door jiggled. “And I’m not the only fucking one,” he mumbled. Then he sidestepped away from me, yanked his beer off the counter where he’d set it, and practically stormed out the back door.
What. The. Hell?
I stood there, trying to find my bearings after another serious case of Colby whiplash.
The front door swung open and Landon walked in juggling a case of beer and a paper bag that instantly filled the room with an intoxicating scent.
“Don’t worry. I’ll share.” He laughed and kicked the door closed behind him.
“Huh?” I tried to snap out of whatever the hell had just happened.
“You look hungry, and I know how much you like fries.” He set the bag on the table, then slid the case of beer into the fridge.
Hungry. Well, that was one way to describe it. Did I crave Colby? Absolutely. When it came to him, was I completely insatiable? Yep. So yeah, it was fair to say I probably looked hungry. Just not for fries. But considering they were basically my favorite food group, I wasn’t going to turn them down either.
I peeked into the bag. Landon had brought food home from the bar in two big white takeout boxes.
“Please tell me one of those is french fries.”
“Yep. A whole box of them.” He grinned. “Help yourself. I texted Colby before I got off and he said you were here, so I got extras.”
“You’re the best.” I pulled out the top box and cracked the lid and discovered it to be filled with french fries. Gloriously greasy fries. And after the way Colby had just pulled a complete one-eighty, I could use a little comfort carbs. Or a lot.
I plopped into a chair and angled the box between myself and an empty seat. Landon walked over, ketchup in hand, and squeezed what seemed like half the bottle into the box lid, then sat in the chair next to me.
He opened the other box, which was filled with chicken tenders. More yummy, crunchy grease to help ease the confusion.
Landon slid the box across the table, and I plucked one out.
“Thanks.”
“No problem.” He held up a cup of ranch but I shook my head. “Have fun with Gabe tonight?” he teased.
I rolled my eyes, letting them wander toward the back porch where I could barely make out Colby’s silhouette. Was that what kept getting under his skin tonight? Gabe? He said he wasn’t the only one—but really, he couldn’t honestly find Gabe a threat. Or competition. Or whatever had him so worked up. Who cared if the guy flirted with me?
“Be honest, did I give off anything that even remotely suggested I was interested in him?”
“In Gabe?” He laughed. “No. You weren’t rude by any means, but other than letting the guy buy you a beer, no. I could tell you weren’t interested, but not too sure if he could.”
Could Colby not tell either? I looked at him again, still sitting by himself. Matt and Taylor probably wouldn’t be back for a while, and he knew Landon was here, so why not come in?
I lifted a french fry so drenched in ketchup it buckled under the weight, tilted my head back to avoid making a mess, then crammed it in my mouth.
“Did Gabe say anything to you?” I asked between bites.
“Nah, he mentioned the bonfire but seemed more interested in whether or not I could bring you, rather than me actually going.” He took a bite of ranch-covered chicken, then shrugged. “Not trying to break your heart or anything, but I’m sure he’s already found a new prospect at the beach party.”