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The butterflies currently kicking up in my belly are a lovely little reminder that my feelings have taken on a very treacherous shade. Where I’m not just at risk of being swept up in this man, the danger is I’ve already drifted far out to sea, no longer in sight of the horizon, with nothing but a will to keep treading water and hold my head above the surface.
“Layla …” He clears his throat, pauses, then when Colt speaks, his voice is quiet and rough. “Find that sweet spot, angel. Take your aim and hit that target. You can be anything you want. I have no doubt you’ll succeed. That good heart of yours is tougher than you think. If you can survive an old bastard like me, you can reach the stars and have them falling at your feet, too.” With those words,
