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And I knew Dante was watching my every fucking move.

“How do you two know each other?” Colton demanded.

It might’ve been kind of comical to be an observer to this little tête-à-tête, Colton looking like he was about to arrest the two of us.

“We’re … colleagues,” I replied at the same time Dante drawled, “We used to date.”

I gaped at him, though I shouldn’t have been surprised by his answer. He was an asshole who liked to rile me up. He was also an asshole who was remarkably good at reading situations, knowing exactly when gas needed pouring on a fire.

“We did not date.” I was seething. “We almost hooked up. Once. And we didn’t even fuck.”

“Much to your disappointment.” Dante waggled his eyebrows.

“Dream on, asshole.” The urge to stab him in the balls with the knife in my boot was overwhelming. “I actually like to feel a man’s dick when he’s inside of me.”

“Oh, you’d feel me.” He licked his lips before grinning wickedly, his eyes moving back to the man still behind me. I was trying my best to breathe through my mouth so I no longer smelled Colton’s clean, appealing scent.

“She’s been following me around the country for years, looking for a second chance,” he casually told Colton.

“You’re the one who followed me here.” I ground down so hard on my molars, I was surprised they didn’t crack, still not quite able to grasp what was happening right then. Colton. Dante.

Dante tilted his head, scrutinizing me. “Don’t pretend you’re not happy to see me.”

“About as happy as I’d be to have an abnormal pap smear.” My voice lowered into a sugary-sweet, mocking purr.

When Colton cleared his throat, I turned my body so I could see him. His expression was cold, guarded as he examined the two of us.

I couldn’t imagine what must be going through his head right now. Not only did he see me, an entirely new and fucked-up version of me, he was also witnessing an interaction between me and a man I hated but who was obviously very familiar with me.

Colton had never been quick to anger. He had always been pretty levelheaded and never jealous. But watching his jaw tick and his eyes blaze, I swore that he looked like he wanted to rip Dante’s head off.

Or maybe that was just wishful thinking on my part.

His gaze lingered on Dante for a handful of seconds before returning to me.

“Explain. Now.” His voice was rough. Commanding. Almost pleasing. You know, if he hadn’t been ordering me to do shit after almost fifteen years.

I folded my arms across my chest. “I’m not going to do anything until I get coffee. And I definitely can’t deal with either of you right now. I’ve got shit going on.”

Colton’s eyes narrowed. “What have you got going on?”

Was that concern folded underneath all that toxic masculinity?

It didn’t really matter.

It had been a fuckup on my part, me alluding that I was experiencing any kind of problem. That obviously triggered something in this version of Colton, made him see underneath the tattoos, the hair, the clothes. Made him view me as that innocent little blonde cheerleader who was obviously in trouble. And in his eyes, that trouble could only be solved by a muscular white guy in a position of power.

Yet this was not the story of the girl coming back to her hometown after years, looking to be saved by the quarterback she used to fuck.

“Nothing that’s any of your business.” I pressed my fingertips into my temples, hoping to temper the rising headache.

“You are my business.” Colton sounded far too ominous and serious for my liking.

His gaze was intense on mine. Some might say smoldering.

But not me. I wouldn’t be caught dead uttering the world smoldering.

A buzzing sound interrupted the moment.