Tough Luck Hero (10 page)

She wasn't very experienced. One boyfriend just after high school and another when she had moved to Copper Ridge. It had been nice. Comforting. But, even sex she remembered hadn't made her feel quite like this.

She swallowed hard, picking up the container with her enchilada in it and holding it up against her chest like a shield.

“You really can't look at me like that,” he said.

“Like what?”

“Like you're a small frightened rodent suspicious about a predator.”

She set the enchiladas down, glaring up at him. “I have reason to be suspicious.”

“I promise I'm not going to eat you.”

Those words sent a rush of longing through her, one that started in her chest, knocking the breath out of her, and spiked down between her thighs.

There was something erotic about the way he said the words. Something rough and unsophisticated, standing at sharp odds with the way she normally thought of him. A man who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth wouldn't have been able to speak those words around it. Surely.

They are innocuous words. You are being a pervert.

Yes, she was.

“Good to know,” she said, wishing that her voice didn't sound so scratchy and thin.

“We're going to have to hold hands when we walk in.”

She swallowed hard. And suddenly, she was tired of feeling like a cornered rodent. She was going to claim a little of her own back. Since when did she behave this way? Since when did she allow Colton to call the shots? Since when did she allow anyone to call the shots? She was allowing herself to get thrown off-kilter because she was out of her depth. Because he was undoubtedly the more experienced party here. Because, in spite of herself, she did have to acknowledge that he was sort of attractive, and she was not unaffected by that attractiveness.

But it was not going to win. It was no more powerful than she was.

She was an independent woman, gosh darnit.

She reached out, locking eyes with him. “That's fine with me. Let's practice.”

His body jerked, a little like he had made contact with an exposed wire. He recovered quickly. “Sounds good to me.”

He closed the distance between their hands, lacing warm fingers through hers. Her breath shortened, her heart pounding hard in her chest, in her throat, in her head.

Oh yes, she did remember this. Except, right now, she was sober. So it didn't seem hazy, didn't seem like a harmless bit of fun. It was sharp, slicing into her like a knife. And she was very afraid that he could see her bleeding need helplessly in front of him.

His palm pressed against hers, his touch hot and firm. And they just stood like that for a moment, her breathing slowly getting a little bit easier. She could do this. She was already getting used to touching him.

But then he changed the game.

He tugged her toward him, pressing her hand flat against his chest. He curved his other arm around her waist, his hand resting on the curve of her spine.

“What are you doing?” she asked. Her voice sounded foreign, scratchy. Definitely not unaffected, as she would have liked.

“Practicing,” he said, his voice rough, a caress that skated over her skin, down her spine. And here, in one blinding moment of clarity she realized what the tension had always been. That gradual tightening of her muscles, that twist in her stomach, that sensation that her skin was too tight, too hot, to wear anymore.

Attraction.

Dammit
.

“That seems like a little much,” she said.

“We have to be comfortable with each other,” he said.

“I don't feel comfortable.”

“What's it going to take?” He smoothed his hand up the line of her spine, his fingers digging into her tight muscles, sending a wave of...something, something she didn't want to analyze, coursing through her.

“I don't think I'm ever going to feel comfortable with this.”

“Well, this is extreme. If you can weather this, a little bit of hand-holding shouldn't be an issue.”

“Okay,” she said, both reluctant to pull away and desperate to do it at the same time.

His breathing had grown shallow, matching hers, and she wondered if his heart was thundering up against his rib cage the same way hers was. She wondered if his palms were sweating, and then came to the conclusion they probably weren't. Because, while this was out of the ordinary for her, it was certainly not for him.

He had been in a relationship until only recently, and before that... Well, she just had the idea that he didn't keep himself quite as cut off as she did.

He had been in a relationship until recently. That thought hit her a little bit harder the second time through. He had been with her
friend
. Until just a few days ago. Touching her, kissing her.

Of course, you already touched him. On what would've been her wedding night.

She did not feel like she'd betrayed Natalie, because Natalie was the one who had chosen to leave Colton at the altar. Still, the idea of the overlap was kind of...icky.

But that was just on a philosophical level. Since nothing about physical Colton was icky. He was decidedly non-icky, all over, in fact.

Touching him felt so... So good.

He was
hot
. Which was possibly the understatement of the year. But more than that was what he made her feel. There were plenty of hot guys that she could admire from afar and not feel this. This was beyond hot. It touched something deep and dark inside of her. Something that she had left untouched and unexamined for...well, forever.

But she was powerless to keep it locked down with him. It was beyond her control and she found she was fascinated by that in the same way a tiger was fascinating in person.

Beautiful. Impossible to look away from. So clearly dangerous and best kept in a cage.

Even so, she didn't want to pull away. She wanted to stretch up on her toes and taste his mouth.

She didn't even care if it was a weird thing to wish you could taste someone. It was what she wanted. She was suddenly so overcome with the desire to do it that she began to shake. Had she ever wanted anyone like this before? Had she ever wanted anything like this. Anything at all?

She would never have thought she was the kind of person to lose her mind over sexual attraction. And here she was, losing it completely, wearing ridiculous shorts, T-shirts and socks in the middle of some guy's kitchen. She was not dressed to play the part of seductress. She was hungry. For Mexican food, and for him. She wasn't wearing makeup and had underwear that was the opposite of sexy.

None of that seemed to matter to her. She had officially gone insane. She wasn't sure she cared.

Suddenly, he released his hold on her, propelling her backward.

“I think that's enough for tonight.”

“I'm not...I'm not comfortable yet,” she said, wishing she didn't sound quite so needy.

“I think you'll do fine tomorrow. You didn't stab me with anything.”

She laughed, a thin, nervous sound. “Well, good for me.”

“It's going to have to do,” he responded, his voice gruff.

“Good night,” she said.

“Enjoy your enchiladas,” he responded, turning and walking out of the kitchen, leaving her standing there with her heart pounding in her throat.

She had no idea what to do with him, what to do with this. It was impossible. It was ridiculous. She had to keep her mind on the task at hand. On winning the election so that she could become mayor. On surviving this ridiculous farce of a marriage. She could not afford to allow her brain to turn to soup just because her accidental husband was sexy. So what if he was? That didn't mean she had to act on her feelings. She had survived this many years without sex. She could survive just as many more.

And she would, dammit. On that she was determined. At least, she would survive until the election was settled. She couldn't afford any more bumps in what had already been a very pothole-filled road.

She had come way too far to be undone now.

CHAPTER SEVEN

W
HEN
C
OLTON
WALKED
into Beaches to see not only his mother but both of his sisters sitting at the table in the back of the dining room, facing the Skokomish River, it took all of his strength not to curse out loud.

“Hi,” he said, eyeballing Maddy as he took his seat to her left. “I didn't know that the two of you would be joining us?”

“We are very surprising,” Maddy said.

“And hungry,” Sierra added.

“Right. Well, it's good to see you.”

He looked behind them, checking out the door, trying to see if Lydia was on her way in.

She didn't seem like the kind of person to run late, so it was a little bit annoying that she wasn't here yet.

“I invited them,” his mother said. “I thought we might as well make the best out of a difficult situation.”

“Right,” he said. Privately, all he could think was that the situation was about to get a lot more difficult.

“I didn't want to miss this,” Maddy said.

He was about to kick her underneath the table like they were twelve. She seemed to be enjoying his fall from grace a little too much. All things considered, he couldn't really blame her. But she could hide it a little bit better.

“Mom,” he said, watching his mother's face for indicators as to how she was doing, “I do have something to tell you.”

“Sorry I'm late.” He turned toward the sound of Lydia's voice, as did his mother and sisters.

She was standing there, her dark hair in a loose braid, her grip tight on her large leather purse. She was wearing some formfitting dark red dress that he imagined was meant to be classy and casual but just forced his eyes straight to her breasts. Because the fabric was soft and it shaped itself around her curves so perfectly.

And this was not what he wanted to be thinking about.

“Not too late,” he said, doing his best to force a smile. He stood, moving to the empty chair and pulling it out.

That earned him not the thank-you he deserved, but a flat-eyed expression. And he realized that he had to greet her, and he had to greet her in the appropriate way a man would greet his new wife.

Well, when that man was a West.

He leaned in, brushing his lips over her cheek. And he felt the impact of that simple contact straight down, like a shot of alcohol. Burning low before firing back to his brain.

When they parted she was still looking at him, but her expression wasn't flat. It glittered like whiskey in a glass.

She took her seat, and he sat down beside her, facing his mother head-on. “Mom, I think you've met Lydia Carpenter before.”

A slight crease marred his mother's forehead. “Of course,” she said, clearly confused.

“She was supposed to be one of the bridesmaids at my wedding to Natalie. But when Natalie didn't show up...Lydia and I got to talking.”

He felt Lydia stiffen beside him, an obvious response to the way he was glossing over the truth. Oh well, he was not about to tell his mother that he got drunk in a dive bar before making this life-altering decision.

“We got married,” he finished, realizing that he had skipped a lot of steps in between, and that—as transitions went—it was a clumsy one. But there really was no good way to tell the story. At least, there was no good way to tell it that wasn't somehow damning.

Gloria West sagged in her chair. “You...you got married.”

“Yes. We flew to Las Vegas. It's an easy way to get married quickly.”

His mother's gaze turned sharp. “Yes, Colton, I'm not so sheltered that I don't realize that.”

“I understand that it's a bit of a shock,” Lydia said, her tone suddenly as comforting and sweet as warm honey. It was not a tone she had ever used with him before, though he imagined it served her well on the campaign trail. “And I apologize that we handled it the way that we did. But I had feelings for Colton for a long time. Of course, I kept them quiet because he was with my friend, and it would have been wrong to say something. But when she left him...I didn't see any reason to keep the feelings to myself anymore. I thought at least it would be nice for him to hear that someone loved him, after being left at the altar.”

He could see that Madison wasn't exactly buying Lydia's explosion of hearts and flowers. But then, Madison was cynical by nature. Sierra, on the other hand, was watching with a slightly more open expression.

It was his mother he was the most concerned about. If, in the end, Madison and Sierra didn't believe the whole story, then he would tell them the truth. His mother wouldn't understand, and he did not want to torture her with this.

You don't think your divorce is going to torture her?

He gritted his teeth against that thought. It probably would, but at least it would be later. After the dust settled on his father's scandal. After people had forgotten about the wedding. Or rather, the lack of wedding.

“That's...amazing,” Maddy said.

Lydia lifted a shoulder. “I don't know if it's particularly amazing. I think I should have been braver earlier on. And, since Colton obviously had feelings for me, maybe he should have been, too. And I think we should both be grateful to Natalie.”

He was not going to be grateful to Natalie. All things considered he wasn't that upset to not be married to her, but he still wasn't happy with the way things had gone.

“Does this mean that you get to attach the West name to your campaign?” Maddy asked. “I mean in a literal sense. Clearly it's added inescapably by your link to my brother. But Lydia West might stand a slightly better chance at making it into Copper Ridge's highest office.”

He was tempted to jump in, but Lydia was sharp, quick. She was also unflappable. It was easy for him to forget that his new wife was an aspiring politician. Mostly because she didn't employ any of those tactics with him. No, with him she was candid. That was the nice way of putting it. But with others she had clearly perfected the art of diplomacy.

“I haven't made any decisions about my name. In part because reprinting the signs would be rather expensive. Also, pamphlets.” She smiled. “I've gotten a long way with my own name. I feel like I can get all the way with it.”

Maddy looked at Lydia with a measure of respect. “I imagine you can.”

“Very interesting,” his mother said, addressing him instead of Lydia. Her expression was neutral, but as always, he was aware of something brittle beneath the façade. “Interesting that you've chosen a woman with political ambition, Colton.”

“Perfect, I think,” he said.

“If Lydia wins it will make you the first family of Copper Ridge,” Sierra pointed out. “And I guess that makes you the first lady, essentially.”

Leave it to his younger sister. “First man,” he said.

“If it were any other town I would say that would mean you were going to a lot of grand openings to cut ribbons,” Maddy said, not bothering to hide her amusement.

“Actually,” Lydia said, “if I'm elected, I hope that we will have more grand openings.”

Sierra looked intrigued by this. “What sort of things are you thinking?”

“It will be up to the people of Copper Ridge to shape the town, but I want to encourage growth. Not the kind of growth that erases who we are, but the kind that honors the past while moving forward into the future.”

Lydia was campaigning now. There would be no stopping her.

“My husband, Ace, he's interested in that sort of thing. He just opened a new restaurant and brewery.”

“I've been to it,” Lydia said, sounding enthusiastic now. “It's exactly the kind of thing I want to see more of here in town. Local people taking charge of the economy. Bringing in more vibrancy. Like Sadie Garrett did with her bed-and-breakfast, and the events that she hosts there. Like your husband has done.”

At the mention of Ace, his mother started looking a little tense again. She wasn't exactly over her youngest daughter unexpectedly getting pregnant at twenty-five, then hastily marrying the town bartender.

Which Colton had to admit had bothered him at first, too. If only because he hadn't been prepared to face the fact that Sierra wasn't a child anymore.

That had not been the issue for Gloria West—though he knew she would tell anyone who asked that she was too young to be a grandmother. The issue had been Ace's status. Or lack of it.

One reason he imagined she found Lydia's aspiration
interesting
. Even though she had spoken the word in a not entirely approving manner. It would be hard for his mother to accept the idea of a woman with serious career goals. But she would definitely like the status having a daughter-in-law as mayor afforded, maybe even enough to forget the scandal of the wedding-that-wasn't.

And then it will all fall apart because this is going to be a hell of a short marriage.

When he screwed up, he didn't go halfway.

It wasn't that he needed his mother's approval. That wasn't it at all. It was just that no one else took her into account at all. His father was a distant tool—and a cheater, it turned out. Gage was gone. Madison had created her own perfect storm, and then seemed to disappear inside of it, retreating into an outer shell that she only sometimes shed to offer warmth. Sierra had swanned off to find herself in the wake of the news that Jack Monaghan was their half brother.

He'd been the one to make sure his mother didn't mix too many antianxiety pills with her mimosas.

He'd also been the one to take Sierra in when she'd gone on her quest for self—but hadn't had the money to finance it.

He'd been there for Maddy because their mom was too brittle, and someone else's pain would only shatter her. Because Nathan West cared only for himself and because their brother Gage had apparently taken after their father.

This was what Colton did. He was the pillar that held his family together. Even if it was a pillar shot through with cracks. And sometimes he felt like he was the only thing keeping it all from crumbling.

But he would. That was why he was here.

By the time they all got up to leave, he couldn't even remember what he'd eaten. He'd been too focused on refereeing the dynamics between everyone.

He put his hand low on Lydia's back as she stood, trying to keep his mind from zeroing in on the heat beneath his palm. On the memories that flooded back.

His hands on her curves. Good God, those curves.

He drew his hand away, satisfied he'd done enough to present a happy couple front. Even if he hadn't, too bad. He'd already nearly lost his grip on his control last night. He didn't need to push it any harder today.

“I'll meet you outside in a moment,” he said to Lydia, his tone meaningful.

“Mom,” Maddy said, “I'll meet you at the car.”

He was glad that Maddy had driven since their mother had had more than her share of wine with lunch. Sierra gave Gloria and Maddy a hug goodbye, then patted him on the shoulder before walking out, upping her pace to try and catch up with Lydia.

He would worry about it except Lydia had proven she could more than hold her own against the West women.

“How are you doing?” he asked his mother, once they were alone.

“I'm fine,” she said, forcing a smile. It was what she always did. Like she didn't think they could tell when she was quietly self-destructing.

“I know that the wedding not going through was stressful,” he said. “And I'm sorry about how quickly things happened with Lydia. I'm sorry you didn't get to have the big wedding you wanted to plan.”

Her shoulders sagged slightly. “It's all right. I don't think I could have handled two in a row.” She brightened suddenly. “Though it would be wonderful to host a party on election night for Lydia. Especially since your father isn't supporting her opponent anymore.”

“Thank God for a few things going smoothly. The last thing we need is Dad supporting my ex's father and my current wife's opponent, right?”

She tried to force another smile. “Yes, I suppose things could be worse.”

He wanted to ask which things. He wanted to dig deeper. But he was always afraid she would break if he did.

“I'd like them to be better.”

“That would be nice,” she responded.

“I'll call you again this week,” he said.

They walked out together and his mother made her way toward where Maddy was parked. He looked down the walk and saw Lydia standing there waiting, the wind catching strands of dark hair and tugging it from her braid.

The waves lapped against the shore across the street, the gray water and pale sand backdrop fading behind her. A view he normally appreciated washing into a watercolor blur as she moved more sharply into focus.

“Did I pass muster?” she asked, taking a step toward him.

“You know how to work a crowd. You just needed a baby to kiss.”

“Yeah. No, I'm not kissing a strange baby,” she said. “It's rude, first of all. The parents don't know where I've been. Also, I don't know where it's been.”

“That's the kind of thing you probably shouldn't say during a campaign speech.”

A smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “You think?”

“Sometimes. Right now I'm thinking about what Maddy said.”

Lydia frowned. “About your last name?”

“Yes.”

“I meant what I said. I have signs printed up, Colton. I'm not going to hijack your last name so I can ride your coattails to glory. I have my own coattails. And my own glory.”

“You headed back to work?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“I'll go with you. We can walk and talk.”

“Walk and argue?” She started to head down the street, back toward town. He moved into step with her.

“Not too loudly,” he said. “We aren't the only ones coming back from lunch break.”