You Are My Summer (The Cuttings #2) [In (Painstakingly Slow) Progress]

Chapter Eleven

As soon as Colton's magnificent horse stopped at the back of my relatives' manor, he -- despite his aches and pains -- gracefully leaped down and efficiently held me to my descent, as well. My heart fluttered a little bit, but it's not the way you think. I was nervous because Aunt Mary might spot him, then she'd be fangirling again like the rest of the nation, and I just couldn't deal with that right now.

Yet when I opened the back door leading into the kitchen, my aunt and uncle were nowhere in sight. They must still be in the barn. Good. It'd take around fifteen minutes for them to hike all the way back here. I quickly gestured to Colton, who had just finished tying Gazelle's lead around a tree. Delilah wandered gently near the house.

"Hurry, before my aunt spots you." He looked at me quizzically as I pushed the door behind him. He quickly walked inside, then we began striding ahead. "I mean, I love my aunt; she's amazing. And maybe you guys can be friends too? Just like, well, um, us? But of course that'll be for another time. Right now we should focus on mending our shaky friendship."

"You'd make a fine diplomat, Olivia Mathison," Colton said with a rare grin as we entered my relatives' cosy living room.

"Call me Livvy," I said quickly, tucking a stray hair behind my ear as I walked ahead of him.

"What?"

I turned halfway to look at him. "If we're going to pretend we're engaged, then I guess it's only fair to call me the way my family and friends do."

"I didn't recall asking you to marry me." He raised an eyebrow.

I now had a wild red tone on my cheeks. "I didn't mean it that way."

Colton continued staring at me, making me feel like blushing, then he nodded. "Well, Livvy, I suggest you call me Cole, as well."

Cole. I liked that.

"God knows only my grandmother, aunt, and all my other ancient relatives call me Colton. Mostly they're too old and stubborn to call me any other name besides that, and believe me when I say that, at their age, it's practically lethal to make any big changes such as saying my nickname."

"Wow..." My eyes shone brightly at him. "Did the Cole Cutting actually make a joke?" I teased.

He smirked. "I rarely do. Consider yourself lucky."

I placed a hand over my chest. "Oh, I do."

"Where'd your feline run off to?"

I blinked at the sudden change of topic. "Brad," I pressed, clearly believing the beast was his own beast, and not anyone else's, "has been sleeping on the sofa for well over an hour now," I announced sardonically, pointing across the room.

Brad curled into a ball, ignoring me.

"Hey, Brad," Cole clucked, stepping forward.

"He's not a dog, Cole."

He glanced at me over his shoulder. "Oh, but he'll come." He walked a step and called the cat's name again. "Brad, come here at once." He sounded like he meant business and he was used to getting what he wanted. Okay, scratch that -- he was used to getting what he wanted. He's a freaking marquess!

As if this wasn't insulting enough, Brad's ears perked up at the call of his name coming from Cole's lips.

"I have a little snack for you."

The cat gave a big great yawn and hopped down the sofa toward Cole. Brad made figure-eights around his legs, purring.

"Ha!" I choked, crossing my arms and marching toward them. "He just sees you as his source of sustenance."