Hating the Book Boyfriend (Book Boyfriend Builders)

11. Colton

CHAPTER 11

Colton

" S o, are you ready to talk about why you're really here?" Archer asks as he experiments with a new small batch of beer in the kitchen. "It's been two weeks, and while I don't mind the extra hand around this place, I know my couch is a far cry from the life you have on the East Coast."

I knew this talk was coming; honestly, it's probably time I have it with someone. "Did you see the news over the summer?"

"You mean the scandal where you were caught banging one of the law clerks from the opposing counsel, calling into question how your evidence was obtained? Yeah, I saw that. My question is, why did you do it?"

"I knew who she was, and I didn't fuck her. I was at the wrong place at the wrong time."

"I have no doubt you knew exactly who she was and her motive. That wasn't my question. My question was, why did you do it?"

I take a long pull of the beer he gave me minutes ago to sample. It has notes of cinnamon in it. It's good. It's really good, and it makes the weight I've been carrying feel much heavier.

"I'm still trying to figure it out." I spin the bottle in my hands and see his branding with the Estes name, and I want that. Something tangible that I can say I made. Right now, I’m watching him stand over the new top-of-the-line stove that he paid for out of his profits, ones he made from growing hops on his land with his hands. That makes me jealous, and that feeling is new for me. I'm not someone who covets what other people have.

When my parents had me, my father had a reputation and wealth. I wanted for very little. "But I want to make a name for myself?—"

"You can't be serious," he says, setting down the thermometer and grabbing his beer. "You're a Callahan. You have a name, a reputation, a legacy."

I thin my lips and choose my following words mindfully so I don't sound like an ungrateful ass. "You're not wrong, but those things don't feel like mine. They more or less feel like a role I stepped into. I want something that is mine. Something I built, similar to what you have here."

He leans against the counter and mulls over my words. "I hear what you're saying, but you have to remember. I stepped into this role, so to speak, as well. The tree farm belonged to my parents before they handed it to me and JoJo."

"That's true. But you grew its revenue and expanded its footprint, making the Estes name a recognizable brand nationwide instead of just in Pine Falls."

"We're getting there. We're far from being a household name, but brand recognition is growing, that's for sure." He crosses his arms, bringing his beer to his lips, and says, "If Colton Callahan isn't a lawyer, what is he?"

I look out the window and catch a glimpse of JoJo's blonde hair blowing in the wind as she looks around suspiciously before pulling her phone to her ear and entering the barn. "Your guess is as good as mine. Right now, he's a bum sleeping on his best friend's couch, working like a dog, hoping he doesn't get kicked out."

He laughs before returning to his small batch on the stove. "When are the renters expected to be out of your house? Do you think you'll stay long enough to move back up there?"

When I started working on the East Coast, my mother moved back to Illinois, where my family is originally from, but I told her I wanted to buy the Pine Falls house. I had too many memories here to part with it and didn't want to let it go. However, owning a property you rarely use is a waste of money, so I started leasing it short-term. Hence, why I'm on his couch and not in my own home.

"They aren't living there full-time. I've been tempted to run over and steal some clothes. They rented it until two days after Christmas. My property manager told me they come up to ski and they like the idea of having a snowy Christmas. I offered the house through New Years so they didn't have to feel rushed during their holiday, but they didn't take it."

"That must be the family locals keep talking about. They all drive high-end white cars," he drinks his beer as he looks through the ingredients. "You're more than welcome to stay here. Since JoJo has been in Chicago and Lindy left, it's just been me."

Now I feel like an ass for not asking about Lindy. I assumed if he wanted to talk about the girl he planned to propose to this Christmas, leaving out of nowhere, he'd bring it up. I'm not sure that's what he's doing now, but he called me out on my case, and what are friends for if not making us own our shit?

"Have you rebounded or are you still hoping things work out?"

He adds a few cinnamon sticks to the pot. "For a month, I was bitter, then mad, and now I don't care. We dated for five years, and in that time, she was never subtle about wanting me to put a ring on it. When she first left, I blamed myself. I had finally bought the ring, but I was waiting for the right moment, and when she left and took that moment away, I was pissed at myself. After I stopped kicking myself for not proposing on someone else's timeline, I got more salty about the future I wouldn't have." He throws his arms wide. "This extension was her idea…" He downs the rest of his beer. "And now I feel like I dodged a bullet. When she left, she told me she didn't want to be stuck living in a small town with a tree farmer."

"Fuck, that's a low blow. I'm sorry, man."

"I'm not. I saw her true colors. It just took some time. Last I heard, she's in Florida dating some tech guy."

Yet another reason I've chosen to stay single. You can't get screwed over if you don't let anyone get close. He can say he's over it all he wants, but the fact that he said, "the last I heard," means he's been keeping tabs. While I haven't subscribed to the whole relationship thing myself, it doesn't mean I don't get it. You don't spend five years with someone and walk away unscathed.

"So, are you swinging for the other team now? Is that why Kieran's been hanging around more?"

He laughs. "You sound jealous. Are you worried he's encroaching on your best friend spot?"

I have my reasons for asking about Kieran. One's I wish were rooted in jealousy of a friend spot. "Jealous, no. I just noticed he seems to be a fixture around here lately, and I wasn't sure if that was because of you or JoJo. I could be wrong, but it always seems like she's dipping out too, sneaking around,” I subtly hint at my suspicions.

His eyes flick out the window toward the barn I watched her enter moments ago. "You think Kieran has a thing for JoJo?"

I hop off my stool and head to the refrigerator for another beer. "Why did you think I asked if you switched teams…" I hold out a beer for him, and he takes it. "Sure, he's been helping with the trees, but he lingers, and now JoJo is planning a Friendsgiving next week after he gave her a sob story that it's just him at home for the holidays since his parents are taking an Alaskan cruise and he doesn't like boats." I pop the top on my bottle. "I don't believe that her choice to host a gathering and his tales of woe are unrelated."

He quirks a brow. "You know JoJo is in PR, right? She's been working out there because of the noise from the construction underway in the kitchen. Since the kitchen won't be ready in time for the party, she's planning it out there. She hired a photographer to come in, take pictures, and record the dinner. Her plan is to use it to make content, promoting our holiday brews, and the farm."

I nod in agreement. Everything he's saying answers for what I've seen I suppose. I'm hyper-focusing on what I've seen and making unfounded assumptions because she's kept her distance, and I've reluctantly kept mine. I should let it all go and chalk all this up to my newfound borderline obsession that includes all things Josephine Estes, but I have to ask. It's been driving me insane because I can't piece it together.

"I feel like I'm overstepping by asking this, but are you sure it's all work-related?" I straighten in my chair and tip my beer toward the barn out the window. "There's no chance it's something else?"

"What do you mean?" He leans against the counter.

"At the hotel, she volunteered for a polar plunge challenge to win a cash prize of three thousand dollars. I didn't ask what the money was for, but dipping into ice water for money seemed extreme."

His head bobs back in surprise. "We aren't having financial difficulties. We're doing better than we ever have, and like I said, she has her PR job..." He runs his thumb across his bottom lip. "That gives me an idea. JoJo could help you with your image. She handles the media for the farm in all capacities, but her specialty is crisis management." He shrugs. "You know, if you want help."

His response feels slightly like deflection, but not because he's trying to hide something, more like he doesn't have an answer for his sister's behavior. I leave it. He said his piece, and I have no reason not to believe it as true. Spinning the bottle in my hands, I check the label. The last beer I finished had notes of cinnamon, this one has more nutmeg and cloves, similar to a pumpkin flavor. The label says holiday collection; you need to read the ingredients on the back to know what his version of holiday tastes like. It reminds me of my current predicament. The man people see on the outside, "the package deal," they believe they are getting is different from the man inside. My brothers thought I needed help. Everett tried hiring a friend to help with my image. Initially, I bought into the idea, but in the end, I ran from it. I don't need more smoke and mirrors.

"No, I don't care what the world thinks. The only opinions that matter are friends and family. If you guys know the truth, the rest is just noise. I'm used to blocking it out. I only felt guilty about the stain I left on the firm, but my brothers' refiled the case and won. That happened right before I came here, actually."

I don't bother mentioning that home is where I was reluctantly heading when I got stranded and decided I wasn't ready to go back. Knowing they'd won the high-profile case, I had lost felt like a weight had been lifted. I never wanted to jeopardize a business they've worked so hard to build. Hell, I've poured into it too, but sometimes the things that used to fill our cups change, or at least that's what a waiter at a diner in Oregon told me one night over a pot of coffee. For some reason, that simple saying has stuck with me.

Kieran's truck pulls up outside the barn, and I nod toward the window. "He lingers."

Archer assesses me, his eyes holding mine a beat, before he says, "I'm going to act like noticing isn't equally as peculiar as lingering. Kieran is a traveling vet. His specialty is farm animals. It's why I asked him to tag along on my trip to pick up Beau. He's probably here to take a look at Snickerdoodle."

"Snickerdoodle? Did you get a new pet that I don't know about today?"

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he turns down the flame on the stove. "Sugar plum… the dog."

"The name you're looking for is Snowball." I would know I've laid awake on the couch almost every night listening to her talk to that dog. She lets him sleep at the foot of her bed and everything.

He side-eyes me. "And you know the name of the dog."

"Are you really giving me flack about paying attention?"

Walking to the back door, he pulls on his coat. "When it comes to my sister, yeah, I am." He tosses me my jacket. "Come on, you put it in my head that Kieran's here for something other than pet care. Time to test that theory."

"I didn't know he was a traveling vet. That explains his prolonged visits."

"Maybe, but Snowball…" he lets the dog's name hang between us as if to say I've now put myself on his radar. "Is lying in the recliner." He throws his chin toward the chair in the living area just past the kitchen. "Come or don't, Callahan," he calls out, letting the storm door slap against the frame as he leaves.

There's no way I'm not going. Someone has to frame the narrative. Who better to do that than the man who hasn't left Pine Falls because of his sister?

W hen Archer said he wanted to test my theory, I didn't know that meant cutting fifteen trees and hauling them up to the barn for decoration while he played twenty questions with Kieran. My body isn't used to this kind of labor, but after two weeks of helping around the farm, the aches of using new muscles have started to ebb, but now my skin feels like it's on fire. I run the towel through my hair to dry, and as I do, my skin feels tight, like it might crack.

"Fuck," I hiss. I don't want anything on my skin. Even the towel wrapped around my waist feels like too much.

I'm ready to drop the towel when a gasp steals my focus. My eyes immediately flick up and land on the same ones that currently keep mine pinned open at night, too scared to close them and see hers. "Oh my god, I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were in here."

"I'm not." A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. "It's not anything you haven't already seen." She's seen me in my underwear. I didn't change my sleeping attire because she was in my room.

Her eyes widen. "Excuse me, I haven't seen what's under that towel."

"Do you want to?"

"What? You know what…” she waves her hand up and down my body. “never mind. I'll leave you to it.” Her eyes fall to the floor as she steps back. Fuck. I hate that I don't want her to leave. Just like when we were younger, she's done a good job of making herself scarce since we've been home. At first, I was glad about it, but the opposite is true two weeks in. Like now, I want to pull her back to me, even if it's just to hear more of her snarky remarks, and for a fleeting second, it feels like the gods have finally decided to show me some mercy because her eyes widen, and she takes a step toward me, but then she speaks. "Oh my god, Colton. What happened?" Her hand gently touches my arm, and I hiss. "I'm sorry," she snatches it back.

"Is it that bad?"

"That bad… your back is borderline raw. When did this start?"

I turn in the mirror and try to examine the damage for myself. "Shit, that's not good," I say when I see the red welts. The shower did not help. If anything, the water made it worse.

"I don't know. I woke up and felt itchy, so I hopped in the shower, and well… now here I am. Your guess is as good as mine. It fucking hurts. My skin feels tight and hot."

"You're probably allergic to the sap from the Christmas trees," she says as she digs through the medicine cabinet. "Sit down while I find some Benadryl. I know we have some around here somewhere." I sit on the toilet, and my eyes instantly fall to the hem of her sleep shirt, where I watch it rise to levels I shouldn't see but can't tear my eyes away from. I shouldn't want to know the weight of her cheek as it meets her milky thigh, and I definitely shouldn't be getting aroused by the scene. She's my best friend's sister, but when it's just us. I don't see Archer's sister. I see Josephine. The tomboy in boots and pigtails who used to run off and draw pictures every chance she got. I see the girl, the one I pretended not to see. The one I could never not see. She knocks something over in her search, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"I don't think it's an allergic reaction. You're forgetting I worked this farm with your brother for many summers. I'll be fine with ibuprofen and maybe an ice pack to pull the heat out."

She turns back to me, her eyes downcast on the bottles in her hands. "Today, you were working with a different species than back then, and I don't think it's the tree you're allergic to but rather the sap. This is different from a standard tree allergy." She sets down whatever meds she pulled out and pinches her lips together as she gently picks up my arm, her touch quickly making my burn feel like an inferno, and not from pain. I like it too much. "We have baking soda in the kitchen. I could apply a paste to your back, but you'd have to rinse it off with cool water in about ten minutes. If you sat on the bench in the shower, I could rinse it for you."

My eyes slowly raise to hers. "You want to get in the shower with me?"

Her mouth opens and closes as though, for once, she's speechless. "That's not what I said."

"Maybe not, but it was implied. How else would you rinse my back?"

"How about we start with the Benadryl and see how that works? We are out of pills, but the liquid stuff is just as potent."

I watch as she twists the cap, and I don't know what gets into me. Maybe it's the discomfort from my back or the delirium that comes with waking up at 2 a.m. to shower, but my hand covers the cup before she can pour out the contents. "What if I want you to shower with me?"

Her eyes stay glued to my hand covering the cup, and her tongue darts out to lick her bottom lip. The rise and fall of her chest is more pronounced before her eyes close, and I have my answer. No matter what words come out of her mouth, I know the thought isn't one that repulses her. Maybe it's even crossed her mind since we shared a room back at the hotel, but I know my forwardness now won't end in the shower. It was an opener, a bait to see if she's interested and her pause is answer enough. She is.

"Colton, I'm trying to help you. You showed me kindness when I was in pain. I'm trying to return the favor." She pulls in a long breath, standing straighter before turning to me, her eyes pleading with mine. "Can you just let me help you without making this into something else?"

I nod in agreement and remove my hand from the cup. She pours the Benadryl and hands it to me. The sweetness goes down smoothly, but it doesn't compare to her hands once again touching my skin. "What if I try a spot of hydrocortisone cream on a small section? If it stings or hurts more, I'll stop."

"Sure," I agree even though the last thing I want is her touching my back when it feels like this, but I'd also rather have her like this than not at all. Laying on my best friend's couch, in the dark, alone with itchy blisters I can't escape, is a hell I don't care to live. At least with her, I have something to focus on besides my pitiful state. Who the fuck is allergic to pine sap?

"Here." She places the medicine in my hand before filling the Benadryl cup with water. She shrugs when I quirk a brow at her water cup. "It's all I got in here. I'll test this spot on the top of your shoulder first." I nod, and she squeezes a dollop of cream onto her finger. The second the cold cream hits my hot flesh, I wince and reflectively grab her hips without thought. "Sorry. Do you want me to stop?" She stumbles over her words, and I raise my eyes to hers, acutely aware of where my hands are. I needed an anchor for my pain, and she was there.

"No, don't stop." My fingers dig into her hips a little harder, and I add. "I'll gladly endure this pain if you're on the other end of it."

Her eyes soften slightly before they harden again, and she drops her gaze, returning to the task. The ointment stings; it feels like I'm being stung by a million wasps. I'm not sure when she stopped applying the ointment, but she did, and somewhere in the agony, my thumbs started rubbing slow circles on her hip bones. As they still are now. She never pulled away, and even now, she hasn't asked me to stop, and I can't help but revel in it.

"Is it worth it?" she stutters out, equally as affected by my touch as I am hers.

"So fucking worth it," I say, pulling her forward a step. Her eyes are lidded with a weight I'm sure matches my own. She may not want to, and maybe we're not supposed to but it doesn't change what is and right now what is—is us. She feels it.

Her tongue darts out to moisten her pink lips before she sucks in a shaky breath. "Does that mean you want me to apply it all over your back?"

That snaps me out of my haze, and I'm instantly off the toilet. "Fuck no! That shit burns." She smiles, and it's contagious. Even if it's at my expense, it's everything. I'd one hundred percent do it again just to be the reason her lips curled. My eyes zero in on her mouth, making me realize something else. Standing eliminated the space that existed between us, and she still hasn't attempted to move. The hands that held her hips circle her waist, and I pull her flush against my front. Her eyes search mine before dropping to my mouth, and I make my move, slowly closing the distance between our mouths, but before I can feel her silky lips on mine, she turns and presses her hand against my chest.

"What are we doing?"

"I was about to kiss you," I state, ensuring there's no mistake of my intent.

"Why?"

"Because I want to."

"And then what?" Her eyes search mine, and I know what she's asking. What happens after we kiss? She knows my reputation, and she could never be a conquest. I don't date, and even if I did, it couldn't be her. She's Archer's sister. When I stay quiet, she says, "That's what I thought." She steps out of my embrace, and I begrudgingly let her go. "Come on, I'll get you set up so you can try to get some rest."

When she turns left toward the living room instead of right toward her bedroom, I say, "Hey." She stops and looks over her shoulder. "I thought you said you were trying to return the favor. I let you sleep in my bed."

Her lips quirk up to one side. "My dad always told me I wasn't allowed to have boys in my room, and I only let men sneak in." There it is, that snarky attitude, the one I've tried to hate since the beginning of time. I bite my lip, enjoying her comment more than I should, especially when I see that her smirk has turned into a full-fledged smile. "Come on, lover boy. There's a couch out here with your name on it."