“Look, Riley, I’m sorry if having the press here yesterday upset you. I probably should have asked you first, but I was afraid you would have said no.”
“I probably would have.”
“Listen, this rescue is making a real difference. The volunteers love working here, and they love you."
Wait, he’s been talking to the volunteers?
“I know journalists like Vanessa. They will spin the story of me working here, like working here is a bad thing.”
“It’s not,” I quickly interject.
“I know it's not, Riley. That’s why I wanted the cameras to see this place. To see the good work that’s going on. To see that I was proud to be working here.”
“And get the added benefit of improving your image?”
“Why can’t it be good for both of us?”
I don’t have a good response to that. So, I just stand there, looking at him.
OK. Now I am mad that I can’t be mad at him. Great.
I take a deep breath in. “OK, apology accepted.”
“Did I apologize?”
I smack him on the arm.
“Yes, you apologized for not asking permission. I accept that apology. On one condition.”
“Which is?”
“You ask my permission before you bring another camera crew up here.”
Colton gives me some sort of salute. I roll my eyes, but I can’t stop the smallest curve of a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth.
“You have my word. Scout’s honor.”
“Were you ever a scout?” I laugh.
“No,” he grins sheepishly, “But I still promise. I mean that, Riley.”
I realize he is still holding the tweezers and the tick he removed from Bear.
“Let’s get rid of the medical gear and put the tick in a bag. I will give it to the vet to see if she wants to test it.“
As we walk away, I notice something in his hair.
“Colton,” I say as I point to the hair on the left side of his head. “You have something in your hair. I think it might be a twig.”
“Oh, I was lying on the ground, letting Bear come over to me. I probably have leaves and twigs all over me. Do you mind taking it out of my hair? My hands are kinda full,” he says as he shows the remnants of Operation Tick Removal.
“Sure”
I stepped closer, brushing my fingers through the tousled strands near his temple. The twig came loose easily, but I didn’t step back right away. His hair was warm from the sun. He smelled like cedar soap. And maybe a faint trace of cologne—something woodsy with a hint of citrus, clean and masculine without trying too hard.
He stilled.
I could feel his breath shift and see his jaw muscles tighten ever so slightly. When I looked up, his blue eyes were already on me.
