Page 24 of Let Me Love You
“Excuse me,” she gushes. “But I’m a huge fan. Could you sign this for me?” A napkin and sharpie are thrust at Colt, and he chuckles, taking the items and scrawling his name across the maroon-colored napkin.
“Can I get a picture too?”
Colt motions toward me on the opposite side of the booth. “I’m sorry, but I’m on a date.”
“Oh, come on. Please? I’d absolutely die if I had a photo of us together.”
Colt glances at me, looking helpless, so I mutter, “It’s fine.”
Her massive breasts practically spill out of her dress as she presses them against Colt’s shoulder and leans down, snapping a selfie of them together. Satisfied, she stands up again and squeezes his shoulder. “Thanks, Colt. I’m already following you, but I’ll tag you when I post the picture. Ya know, so you can follow me back.” Her dark eyes flick to his, and she smiles coyly. “I’ll see ya later, Colt.”
Then she walks back to her table, leaving me speechless.
“Wow.” I twirl my fork in my pasta without bothering to take a bite, no matter how desperate I am to erase the bad taste in my mouth. But seriously. Did that just happen? I’m not surprised. I’ve had girls blatantly hand him their number right in front of me without batting an eye. Taking a selfie and pressing their boobs against him? Hey, why not?
Colt looks up at me and shakes his head. “Ignore them.”
“Oh, how much easier it is said than done,” I mutter under my breath. “Do you ever get sick of it?”
We've had this conversation before. Honestly, we’ve had it more times than I can count, and he's probably tired of it, but it doesn't matter. He knows me. He knows my past with Logan. He knows my insecurities, and how quickly they rise to the surface anytime girls are around. And the man’s sweet enough to stay patient in spite of it.
His pasta forgotten, Colt reaches across the table and grabs my hand rubbing his thumb against the back of mine again as he holds my gaze, knowing the innocent touch is my Kryptonite. “Sunshine, who am I here with?”
I close my eyes.
“Look at me.” My gaze meets his. “I'm here with you. I love you. I'm living with you. Not them.You.”
“I know.”
But it doesn't ease the tightness in my chest or the reminder that there are dozens, if not hundreds, of girls who would happily take my place in this booth if Colt ever wanted to replace me.
Screw you, Logan,I think to myself.Screw you and all of these stupid insecurities you've given me.
It isn't fair.
Itreallyisn't fair.
Not in the slightest.
But they aren’t going anywhere. And every time my insecurities begin to slip into the back of my mind, I’m hit with the reminder of how replaceable I am, despite Colt going out of his way to prove the opposite.
Like right now.
With the girls less than twenty feet away.
Staring at us.
Givingmedirty looks.
And givingColtlooks of appreciation.
Because I’m the villain. For taking him off the market. For stealing him from their clutches. It’s ridiculous.
And annoying.
Oh, the joys of dating a hot hockey player.
“I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” I try to slip out of the booth, but he grabs my wrist and stands up, leaning across the table and enveloping my throat. He tilts my head toward him and kisses me. In front of everyone.