Tough Luck Hero (11 page)

She paused, the corner of her lips turning down. “We should probably...hold hands or something.”

He captured her hand with his, lacing his fingers through hers and drawing her closer to him. He gritted his teeth against the wave of heat that assaulted him. It was a hand. A palm. Fingers. There was nothing erotic about it.

He had held hands with more women than he could count. More women than he could remember. Hand-holding was the bare minimum of first date affection as long as you didn't hate the person you were with.

It shouldn't affect him at all. But it did. Because she did.

A car slowed beside them on the road, and Colton turned, realizing it was Eli Garrett in a marked police cruiser.

“Hi, Lydia,” he called. “Colton.”

Colton had the distinct suspicion that Eli was checking up on them. He knew that Lydia was friends with Eli's wife, Sadie, and that he was also good friends with Jack Monaghan, Colton's newly discovered half brother. All things considered, a West was probably high on his list of suspicious persons.

“Hi,” Lydia said, tightening her hold on his hand slightly. “Were we walking too quickly? Committing some kind of pedestrian-related infraction?”

“No. I just wanted to stop and congratulate you.”

“That's nice of you,” Lydia said, her smile warm.

“Thank you,” Colton added.

He felt like he was having an out-of-body experience. Standing there on the main street of town receiving congratulations for a different wedding than the one he had been planning for eight months, holding hands with a different woman than he had thought he would call his wife.

“Sadie was telling me she came to visit you yesterday.” That was directed at Lydia.

Lydia stiffened beside him. “Oh yes. She did. She brought coffee, which was nice.”

“She's good like that. Anyway, we'll have to have you over for dinner sometime. And I have to get going.”

“Felons to bust?” she asked.

“I'm speaking at the elementary school about bicycle safety.” He smiled. “See you around.”

“I got the feeling he was about one wrong move away from tasing me,” Colton said.

“I've known Eli for a long time.”

“Did you ever date him?” It didn't matter. He didn't know why he had asked. And he really didn't know why a burning ball of jealousy started to roll around in his chest, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

“No,” she said, “though I did give it a pretty decent shot. But Sadie rolled into town and I had to concede defeat.”

“And now you're friends with her.”

Lydia lifted a shoulder. “There's no point being ridiculous about a man that isn't all that into you. I was hardly going to pitch a fit. He didn't want me.”

“That is not the way most people feel about that kind of thing.”

“I've never seen the point of being insane about relationship stuff. It either works or it doesn't. It either fits, or it doesn't fit. There's no reason to force anything.”

“That's how I feel.”

She looked sideways at him. “Really?”

“Yes. That's why I was with Natalie. We fit. We made sense. It was easy.”

Lydia made a scoffing sound. “People can be so dramatic about it.”

“On that I think we can agree.”

They walked past the Trading Post just as Rebecca Bear was coming outside. Her eyes widened for a moment before her expression settled into a stony glare. She had never been very friendly in his experience, so he didn't think much about it.

“Hi, Rebecca,” Lydia said, her tone overly cheerful.

“Hi,” Rebecca said quickly, her eyes darting to Colton for a brief second.

Silence settled between them, thick and awkward.

“Well,” Lydia said finally. “I'll...see you around. I'll have to stop in when your Christmas decorations arrive.”

“End of November,” the other woman said, looking at the ground now.

“Okay,” Lydia responded. “Great.”

Lydia waved awkwardly and they continued on down the sidewalk. “That was weird,” Lydia said, when they were out of earshot.

“Was it?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “She was all unfriendly.”

“That's just how she is. At least in my limited experience with her.”

Lydia frowned. “Not in mine.”

“You have that politician thing, though,” he said. “You show up and smile and it's like a switch is flipped and you're radiating charisma. It flips off when you look at me.”

“Hmm,” Lydia said. “So the common denominator here with women who are usually friendly, but then sometimes not, is you.”

“Lydia!” Colton turned and saw Cassie Caldwell rushing out the front door of The Grind, wiping her hands on her apron. “I wanted to make sure I congratulated you.”

“Oh,” Lydia said. “Thank you.”

She looked as shocked as he felt. And he was almost insulted that he was clearly much less popular around town than she was. Thanks to his last name, he was one of Copper Ridge's most prominent citizens, but no one was rushing to offer him congratulations.

If he cared more, he might be wounded.

But that was possibly the sharpest contrast between himself and Lydia—she cared. Deeply. Down into the depths of her soul. At least, about Copper Ridge and becoming mayor.

He couldn't think of a damn thing he felt that way about. Except for his family.

“Thanks from me, too,” Colton said.

“I didn't...realize.” Cassie's face turned pink. “I mean...well, you were engaged and...”

“Nothing was going on when I was engaged,” Colton said. The last thing either of them needed were cheating rumors going around.

“I didn't...” Cassie shook her head. “Never mind. If I try to correct I'll overcorrect and it'll get weird for everyone.”

“There's no way it can get weirder,” Lydia said. “We understand that.”

“Are you going to have another meeting here soon?” Cassie asked.

“Yes,” Lydia said. “I've been meaning to call you. But then...I got married instead. So we'll set up a time next week?”

“Sounds good. I'll make sure to have a peppermint mocha at the ready.”

Lydia said her goodbyes and they walked on.

“Do I have a Just Married sign on my ass?” he asked. “Did you tie tin cans to my belt loop?”

“News travels fast, Colton,” she said. “And you could work a little harder to be more...effusive.”

“Oh, could I?”

“Yes. You sort of get...statue-like.”

“Well, no one is being effusive at me. They're all being effusive at you.”

She squinted. “I seriously doubt that even if they were you would return the favor.”

“You've met my family. You know who they are. I'm an expert at handling social situations.”

“Which is why you've been kind of a jerk to me every time we've ever met prior to this little—” she waved her free hand between them “—thing?”

“That's just you. You're special.”

She smiled, but it felt vaguely more like she was snarling. “Thank you, darling.”

“Are we doing pet names now?”

Her dark eyes narrowed. “We are a couple now, sweetheart.”

Lydia led them down to the wharf, and to the little Chamber of Commerce building that was right over the water. It was situated between The Crab Shanty—a restaurant that let you rent your own crab pots, and offered to cook your catch—and a whale watching tours and bike, paddleboard and canoe rental stand.

It was summer, and it was still cold down by the water, the wind coming up off the ocean, sharp, slicing through his flannel shirt with efficiency.

Something about the wind whispering over their skin drew his attention back to the fact that they were still touching. That even though the rest of him was cold, her touch was keeping him warm.

Absently, he let his thumb drift over the back of her hand. She looked up at him, her eyes wide, and damned if he wasn't right back in a hotel in Vegas about to make the biggest mistake of his life.

CHAPTER EIGHT

O
H
...
HELL
.

She was remembering the exact moment when he'd grabbed her while they were in the lobby of some shiny, blinky hotel on the strip and had looked down at her with those lethal blue eyes.

She'd been giddy, and so drunk, and she'd forgotten for a minute that he made her angry. She'd just thought he was the most beautiful man she'd ever seen. She could see it like it was playing out in front of her right now on the wharf.

The rugged lines on his face, his square jaw and dark brows. Those lips. How had she never noticed how gorgeous his lips were before the past week?

She felt light, and electric. Super tipsy. They were surrounded by Sin City and dammit, sin seemed like a good idea when she looked at that mouth.

“I was supposed to get married today.”

“I know. I was in the wedding. Or...almost.”

“I didn't expect to end up here. I'm supposed to be in Manhattan. With my wife. And it's supposed to be my wedding night.” His voice got rougher then, deeper.

She frowned. “So you're thinking about her?” And about the sex he was supposed to have, she imagined.

Oh, Lord. Just thinking about Colton and sex made her feel weak all over. So much like that time in the bar when she'd run into him, touched his hard chest. She wanted to touch it again. So badly.

His gorgeous lips tipped upward. “Not her specifically. It hasn't been her from the moment you took that first shot with me in the bar.”

That warmed her even more than all the whiskey they'd had at Ace's. Maybe he was thinking of touching her, too. Normally, she would think that was nuts. But normally she wouldn't have taken off to Las Vegas on the spur of the moment with a man who drove her crazy in all senses of the word.

“It sucks you don't get your wedding night,” she said, licking her suddenly dry lips.

“Kind of hard to have a wedding night when you don't have a bride.”

“You...” She looked around the casino. “I mean...you could have a bride. I bet. I mean I would—”

Then the world stopped, and he started to lean in...

She blinked, throwing herself back into the present. She was not going further with that memory. The present wasn't much safer than the past, though. Because they were standing in one of her favorite places, with the wind whipping through his hair and across the front of his shirt, tightening the fabric over his masculine physique.

And he was still touching her hand. His lips were every bit as interesting as they had been back in Vegas.

She pulled away from him abruptly. “Why don't you come in?” she asked.

He lifted a shoulder, seeming unaffected by what had just happened. “All right.”

Clearly, she'd been alone in her memories. Colton had probably been spacing out about... She didn't even know what he would space out about. Tenpenny nails? She was pretty sure those were a thing.

She was struck again by how little she knew him. Though that lunch with his mother and sisters had been pretty illuminating.

He felt protective of all of them. His sisters felt protective of him. His mother was worried about herself.

It wasn't an easy family dynamic.

Still not quite as messed up as her own, though.

“Come on,” she said uselessly, since he was already following her into the building.

It was a simple, clean office space with mottled, commercial-grade carpet and white furniture to match the trim. The windows afforded a nice view of the ocean, and lilies added to the charm.

There was a waiting area with pale blue couches and a whitewashed table with brightly colored pamphlets spread over the top.

Marlene, who was old enough to be Lydia's grandmother, but attacked her job with the energy of a much younger woman, looked up when they walked in.

“Hello, Lydia. And oh! This must be your husband.”

Lydia had done her best to prepare her small, mostly female staff for the inevitability of meeting Colton. She hadn't offered a whole lot of explanation for the hasty marriage, but then, no one had acted terribly shocked when she'd broken the news.

Of course, a wave of tittering that rivaled a tree full of birds could be heard beyond her office door after she'd told them, but as long as they didn't bother her with gossip, she didn't care if it was going on.

“Yep,” she said, “this is him.”

“Oh, you're the West boy,” Marlene said, smiling. “I think your company came and did new kitchen cabinets in my house a couple of years back. My birthday present from Al.”

“I hope we did a good job,” Colton said, treating Marlene to a smile that hollowed out Lydia's stomach and made it difficult for her to breathe. So. He did have charm.

“Excellent work,” she said. “I hope you take as much care with our Lydia.”

He wrapped his arm around her waist and all the air gusted from her lungs. “Of course. My peaches is pretty precious to me.”

Peaches
.

Oh, screw him. She was going to punch him in the stomach when they were alone in her office. Provided her knees didn't buckle. She was feeling a little wobbly at the moment.

“He's...he's doing fine, Marlene,” she said, patting the center of his chest, then immediately regretting it. She pulled away like his pecs were on fire and she was in danger of a third-degree burn.

She put her hand down at her side, rubbing her palm on her dress. “Just... We're fine.” She cleared her throat. “Colton, I want you to see my office.”

“We'll talk again soon, Marlene,” Colton said, pouring on more of that charm she'd certainly never gotten from him.

They continued on down the hall, and to the end, where her office was positioned, looking out over the little harbor. She loved her view of the fishing boats, the horizon line, and then, off to the side, the glimpse of dark green mountains. Like she could see everything that made this place her home all at once.

Normally, her office was neat, her desk perfectly arranged to help her get her work done without anything cluttering her up.

But that was not the case right now. She had stacks of pamphlets rubber banded and arranged in the corner; there were campaign signs stuffed behind her potted palm.

Her drink station was still neat, her single brewer coffeemaker and mugs, along with a selection of tea and coffee pods, arranged neatly on a table at the back of the room. Next to that was a cream-colored chair that had somehow managed to avoid any sort of beverage stain.

“Peaches?” she asked, shutting the door behind them.

“I panicked,” he said. “You said that we should use more endearments, and I couldn't think of one.”

She rounded to the back of her desk, planting her hands on the smooth surface. “You did not panic.”

“Maybe social situations make me uncomfortable.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You are basically the least panicked person I have ever been around. You barely panicked when you woke up married to me in a Las Vegas hotel.”

“There isn't any point to panicking, peaches.”

“I'm going to throw something at you.”

“You won't.”

She turned away from him, bending down and picking up a stack of pamphlets. No, those were too heavy. She tugged one pamphlet out from beneath the rubber band and flung it in his direction. It floated feebly in the air before drifting back down to the ground.

They looked at each other, and the corner of his mouth twitched.

“Don't say anything,” she warned.

“What could I have possibly said? That was an incredibly fearsome move. I was concerned for my personal safety. In fact, I think I should call Sheriff Garrett and let him know that you're not the one he has to be worried about.”

“Okay,” she said, holding up a hand. “You can tone it down a little bit.”

He bent down, picking the pamphlet up and opening it. She nearly choked when he started to read it. Which was silly—she wanted people to read it. And he was people. Mostly.

“I like your slogan. Protecting the Past, Embracing the Future.”

“I thought it would resonate,” she said, knowing she sounded a little bit snippy.

“It's very mayoral.”

“Right. Well, I am. It's why I'm running.”

“Excluding when you tried to throw a pamphlet at me.”

“I didn't try. I succeeded. I threw it.”

“Yeah, it didn't get very far.”

She tapped her fingers on her desk. “Okay, fine. My pamphlet-throwing skills aside, I did need to let you know that in two weeks I'm having a campaign fund-raising dinner at the Garrett Ranch.”

“And that pertains to me...?”

“Because you're my husband. You know you're going to have to be my date.”

He frowned. “Black tie?”

“Don't panic. It's casual. We're having it out in the barn.”

He laughed. “Don't forget, I'm pretty professional at black tie. My mother never met a gala she didn't like, and my father throws fund-raisers more than once a year.”

Of course. And she knew that about him. In fact, her predominant thought about him when Natalie had introduced her was that he was another one of those spoiled rich kids who had had everything handed to him.

But actually spending time with him made it hard for her to think of him that way. Yes, sometimes it was impossible to ignore the fact that he was rich. Well, most of the time. His house was a testament to that. As had been traveling with him to Las Vegas and back.

But he wasn't ineffectual or lazy.

He had a partly functioning ranch that he ran with help, but he also had a construction company that he went to work at every day. And she wasn't exactly sure what portion of the physical labor he took on, but judging by his physique he didn't spend his day sitting behind a desk.

He was complicated. She didn't like that. She wanted him to be easy to dismiss. Easy to dislike.

He wasn't really either of those things.

“Of course. I should have known. You probably have custom fitted suits for every occasion.”

“And specially tailored jeans.”

“Are you serious?”

“No,” he said, smiling, a ghost of the smile he had given to Marlene, but still a little friendlier than she usually got. “I buy them at Fred Meyer.”

“Okay. Because the next thing I was going to have to ask you is if your underwear was specially tailored too.”

Well, she should have known that was a mistake before she even said it. Talking about Colton's underwear was a clear path to insanity.

The silence that settled between them was awkwardness unrivaled. It was like that with him. Fine for a moment, and then the next...all that tension would settle down between them.

“I would have thought you might know the answer to that one,” he said, his voice dropping a degree.

“I...I...don't,” she stammered, wanting to punch her own stupid face for stammering.

“Because you don't remember.”

“Nope.”

“That's kind of hard on a man's ego.”

She busied herself fiddling with things on her desk. “Well, you know, I think life does enough to prop up the male ego. I'm not all that concerned with its health, generally speaking.”

“What about my personal ego?”

She looked up, but did her best not to focus on him. “Even less concerned.”

“I think you verge on protesting too much, Lydia.”

“I...” She inhaled sharply, then coughed, gripping the back of her office chair and trying to steady herself so she didn't have a full-on respiratory episode in his presence. Speaking of his ego. “I am not,” she finished weakly.

“You don't remember anything, though, so you can't be certain. Maybe you're responding to instinct.”

She released her hold on the back of the chair and waved a hand. “I... No. I feel like if anything were...egregious or notable I would remember.”

He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “So, I'm neither egregious nor notable.”

“Neither thing.”

“Which is why you don't remember if my underwear needs to be specially tailored or not.”

“Ha!” She nearly howled. It was either that or slink under the desk in embarrassment. And she would not do that. “No, I would most certainly remember if the contents of your underwear were such that special alterations were required. Again, either way.”

“So you're saying...”

“You were inoffensive,” she said quickly, “clearly.”

“My penis is...inoffensive.”

“Yes.” Her ears were burning. She couldn't recall ever being so embarrassed in her life. Well, okay, not since they woke up in bed together.

“Well, that's...something.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “This is terrible. You are terrible.” She released it and slapped her hand back down at her side. “Can we just...try to get through this without any more innuendo?”

“Since my body is inoffensive to you it should be pretty easy.”

“You would think.”

“Well, I'm going to take my inoffensive appendage back to work.”

She snorted, reaching for the back of her office chair and missing, stumbling slightly. “Fine. Where are you... I mean, what are you working on?”

“Building a new retirement community in Tolowa. Slightly cheaper bay-front property. Copper Ridge has gotten a little steep. Also, we're building a house on a hill overlooking the ocean.”

She was interested, in spite of herself. “Do you actually...build?”

“I am a contractor.”

“You own the company, though,” she pointed out. “Most people would maybe sit in the office.”

“I've never liked sitting behind a desk. It's not for me. Anyway, my dad owns the company. My family. It was my uncle's until he passed away ten years ago. And then my dad folded it into his empire. Someone needed to run it.”