Tough Luck Hero (16 page)

She began to step down off the stage, and he grabbed hold of her hand, drawing her forward. He wasn't sure why. He only knew that it seemed like the right thing to do. Because she had made a great speech, and she'd had every single person in the room riveted on what she had to say.

He was...he was proud of her. Even if he hadn't earned that feeling. And he was playing the part of trophy husband who was proud of his wife, so even if he hadn't earned it, he had to act like he felt it and he had to show that he did.

He curved his hand around the back of her neck, drawing her in. Her dark eyes widened, her pupils expanding, and he saw panic there. But he also saw desire. For a split second, there was a chance to turn back. To figure out which message he saw on her face he was going to take.

But then, he caught a wave of her scent. Floral, feminine, and there really was no more decision-making time. Really, there was no decision.

He leaned in, pressing his mouth to hers. It was light, because he wasn't going to get overly passionate in front of a room full of people. Also because he needed to prove to himself that light was possible with Lydia.

But light didn't mean easy. It didn't mean feeling any less scorched from the inside out. It didn't mean that it left him without that hollow ache that started deep in his stomach and slowly scooped out every other part of him, leaving him feeling weaker and stronger at the same time.

When they separated, he was breathing hard, and so was she. Their response was definitely a little bit overblown for as chaste as the kiss had been. But in truth, nothing with Lydia was chaste, ever. Not a touch of her hand against his, not an arm around her waist and most certainly not a kiss. Hell, even a glance was filled with the dirty, deep memory that neither of them seemed to have entirely. It was the wondering that made it so powerful. The fact that the blank space was full of infinite possibility.

All they knew was desire, and beyond that, neither of them remembered how they'd satisfied that desire. It was a strange sensation for Colton. To know there was a section of time when he'd been with Lydia, when he'd been beyond himself.

And all at once, he wondered if resisting was pointless. If it was doomed to fail.

It took him a moment to realize that people were still cheering. Probably for the kiss. If they had ever been in doubt that their relationship would be well received by the community, there was no doubt now. At least, not by this contingent. Of course, he had been engaged to the daughter of her rival, and he imagined that for Lydia's camp that made for a very interesting bit of gossip.

He imagined he was less popular in the Bailey camp. Even though Natalie had been the one to abandon him. He imagined there was a story being told over there that didn't flatter him at all.

He'd been the one abandoned at the altar. He didn't need a story or an excuse. Because he married someone else, because he wasn't the one who had stopped the wedding. He hadn't really appreciated what a convenient position that was until just now.

He had a little more control over the gossip than Natalie.

Not for the first time, he wondered if he needed to get in touch with her. Personally, not just through a moving service.

“It was a great speech,” he said.

“Thank you,” Lydia said, her words tight.

“I think I make a pretty good first lady.”

“Yeah, you do,” she said, her eyes never leaving his.

He wondered if she might be thinking the same thing he was. If she might be thinking it was a lost cause and that there was no point in fighting.

He damn sure hoped so. And if she wasn't, then he was ready to try and bring her around to his way of thinking.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

L
YDIA
WAS
MORE
determined than ever to resist Colton.

Resist
was a strong word. It implied that it was hard. It implied that she was actively doing battle with her desire for him. No. She wasn't. In fact, the kiss from the fund-raiser last night had all but been forgotten.

She grabbed her peppermint mocha off the counter at The Grind and took a sip, letting the comforting warmth settle inside of her, making her feel calm. That's it. She was calm.

And, if she had retired quickly to her bedroom after the dinner last night, and had decided to go into town to do some campaign work on her computer on a Saturday just because she couldn't concentrate at Colton's house, it was all a coincidence.

“Thank you,” she said to the barista behind the counter.

She walked back to her seat, where her laptop was already set up, her purse slung over the back of the chair. She imagined that was something you couldn't do in most towns. But, in Copper Ridge, she didn't worry much about leaving her belongings for a few moments.

She hummed as she pulled up an Excel spreadsheet, examining the takeaway from last night. There had been the expected money earned per plate, which had been discounted for people from various organizations, such as the Historical Society, where she was looking to get a group on board with her vision. But then there were donations on top of that that had been incredibly generous.

She opened up the new pamphlet she'd been working on. She would be able to get those printed up and distributed, and probably get a radio ad, too. The good thing about politics in a small town was that it was a bit more budget friendly than it would be if she were in a larger area. Of course, that meant that she had to tailor her fund-raisers to small-town budgets. So really, you ended up working within the economy you had.

She didn't have scads of her own cash to throw around, unlike her opponent. But her campaign had been going well regardless.

She curved her fingers around her cup, looking out the window at the view of the town. It was gray out, mist hovering behind the little row of buildings outside. An American flag blew in the breeze, as did the wind socks hanging outside of Rebecca's store. Brightly colored nylon ribbons swinging in the breeze like fish on a trout line.

She leaned in, smelling her coffee before taking another sip. And then nearly choked on it when she saw Natalie through the glass door of the coffee shop.

She gritted her teeth, sitting up straighter. She seriously considered hitting the floor and doing an army crawl into the bathroom.

Damn small towns.

Instead, she sat there frozen, clutching her cup like it was some kind of lifeline. Or maybe a cloak of invisibility. It was neither. So when Natalie opened the door and stepped into the coffee shop, of course the first thing she did was make eye contact with Lydia.

Natalie froze, her blue eyes going wide. “I...” She turned, as though she were about to leave.

“Wait,” Lydia said. Oh, why did she ask her to wait?

Natalie turned, arching a pale brow. “Oh, are you speaking to me?”

“Okay, that's weird. I was never not speaking to you. You're the one who's mad at me.” Lydia could have bitten off her tongue. “Also, you were never not speaking to me, even though you were mad at me.”

“Well, I'm just surprised that you would talk to me, seeing as you married my fiancé.”

“You kind of left your fiancé at the altar first.”

Neither of them were talking all that loudly, but Lydia could feel every eye in the room on them. They said all the world was a stage, and Lydia had never been very convinced of that. But a small town was most definitely a stage when drama was going on.

Out of the corner of her eye, Lydia saw someone lean over and whisper to another person across the table. Probably giving backstory. Lydia had done it a time or two herself. And she knew, had she been in the audience for this particular moment, she would have been glued to the action, too. It didn't mean it wasn't strange and irritating to find yourself being watched by a roomful of people.

“I still wanted to talk to him,” Natalie said. “I wanted to explain. And I didn't want things to be over between us. But they definitely are now.” Her voice was vibrating with anger, and Lydia felt a pinprick of guilt needle her back. She had never intended to hurt anyone. Honestly, she had never intended anything. And of course, she and Colton weren't even real.

Sure, they were attracted to each other, and yes they
had
—physically. But they weren't staying married. And Natalie was hurt. She could be difficult, but she wasn't evil.

Lydia bit back a hundred replies that verged into cutting territory. There was no point in having a fight about it. There was no point in trying to one-up her.

It was weird, though, being in a position where she clearly had something someone else wanted. That just wasn't... That wasn't her life.

“You still can,” Lydia found herself saying instead.

“Oh, and can I still marry him?”

“Legally, obviously not,” Lydia said, feeling a little more irritated now. “But I can't answer for him. I can tell you that I think he was probably having similar doubts as you, or he might not have...done what he did.”

“Well, thank you for your assessment on that,” Natalie bit out. “How long were you waiting in the wings to grab hold of him? It wasn't enough you want to take my father's position in the community, you had to take my fiancé?”

“Unattended fiancés may be married by other people, Natalie,” Lydia said, immediately regretting the sharpness of the statement. She was supposed to be benevolent. Everybody in the coffee shop was watching her. And all of this was going to get back to...well, eventually everyone.

“It's not like leaving your car in the wrong parking space. I did not want my fiancé to be towed away.”

“Nothing was happening between us before the wedding—that I do want you to know. It was a sudden thing. Impulsive. But we are trying to make it work.” That was close to honest.

Natalie's eyes suddenly filled with tears. “This wasn't how it was supposed to go.”

Lydia was caught between the desire to hug her and slap her. Because she did feel bad, because she didn't want to hurt anyone. But Colton had been hurt. Colton had been left in the lurch. And Natalie was clearly under the impression that she should have been able to have her own private freak-out and then waltz back into his life as though she hadn't just ruined a wedding that had been a year in the making. As though she hadn't just left him standing there, humiliated in front of the whole town.

“I know,” Lydia said. Oh, did she know. “But Colton isn't a thing, Natalie. He's a person. He's a man. And he was never going to respond to being left at the altar in a positive way. Even if... Look, even if he and I hadn't... I don't know that he would have wanted to put himself through that again. I know you're used to getting your way. And I know you're used to being able to move people around like dolls. Even knowing that you were furious at me I agreed to still be in your wedding. Even when you're kind of terrible, you are the kind of person that people can't help but want to be around. But people have their limits. And I think Colton hit his.”

Natalie looked like she'd been slapped. “I made a mistake,” she said, her voice low. “With someone else. I didn't feel like I could show up at the wedding after that. But he's not someone that I can... He's not the kind of person I can marry.”

Lydia frowned. “You cheated on Colton?”

Natalie's cheeks turned bright red. “It isn't that simple. I mean, it is. It's why I couldn't just marry him without talking to him. But you know Colton. Obviously. He's not passionate. And neither am I. We cared for each other—I care for him. But we made a lot more sense than we made sparks.” She looked away. “It was strange to meet someone I felt differently about. Someone who made me feel different. I didn't know how to fight against it.”

Lydia could strangely relate to what Natalie was saying. Because Lydia felt much the same about Colton. The moment she had met him there had been sparks of one variety or another. And it was always like that. If they weren't fighting they were kissing.

She also felt a lot less guilty, hearing what her friend was saying. Natalie didn't love Colton. It was that obvious. Because anyone who thought Colton wasn't passionate...

Well, obviously that person didn't have very strong feelings for him.

Lydia didn't even like him and she thought he was the most passionate man she had ever known.

She blinked, dragging herself back into the present conversation. “I don't really know what to say to you,” Lydia said. “You're angry at him, you're angry at me, but you're the one who didn't show up at the wedding. You're the one who cheated on him. And yes, he and I jumped into marriage, but he was never unfaithful to you. I had no idea he was even attracted to me until we got married in Las Vegas.”

Natalie snorted. “I knew.”

“What?”

Natalie plopped down in the chair across from her, clearly somewhat defeated by the exchange. Her righteous anger had dimmed to a very dull vibration. But then, that was Natalie. She could be hideously mean one moment and kind of delightful wrapped inside of it, then act like all was forgiven, and should be forgiven in return in the next.

“The moment I introduced the two of you. He was mean to you. He was a jerk. He's never a jerk. And you bristled like a cat backed into a corner. Which I had never seen you do with anyone. You're unfailingly diplomatic. You've been diplomatic with me through this entire conversation. You were not diplomatic with him.”

“You think he was...attracted to me?”

“You thought he married you the moment he was free of me for fun?”

Actually, Lydia had thought he did it all for the alcohol, but she wasn't going to say that. “I don't know.”

“You two had a weird magnetism the moment you met. And I was jealous. I mean, I was upset when you chose to run against my father, don't get me wrong. But I was more upset that he looked at you like that.”

“That he looked at me like he wanted to push me into the ocean?”

“Kind of. I never got that strong of an emotion out of him either way.”

Lydia turned that over. She supposed it stood to reason that anger and attraction were two sides of the same coin. Passion. The emotion they had just been discussing.

“I think maybe all of this is for the best,” Lydia said, beginning to pack up her things. Because this had just gone past the point of uncomfortable, and while she was sort of glad they'd had this conversation, she really needed to go put her thoughts in order. “I'm not sure that you should be with him.” She stuffed her laptop into her bag. “Well, I know you shouldn't be with him. Since we're married. And he's my husband. You know, 'til death do us part.”

She felt like she was kind of waiting for a bolt of lightning to hit her for that one.

“Right,” Natalie said.

“But, if you need to talk to him, then talk to him.”

“You aren't going to chase me off the property with a pitchfork? Because, I'll be honest, I maybe would have done that to you.”

“Yeah, no. I don't like to run. So, you can rest assured that you will not be chased.”

“Okay. Well, I'll at least call him. Which is maybe better than texting. Which is all I did when I didn't show up at the wedding.” She winced. “I really don't like having to admit that I'm at fault for things. I find it very uncomfortable.”

Lydia laughed. “We all do.”

“But you do it so much more than I do. I assumed it was easier.”

“No, everyone hates it.”

As she finished saying goodbye to Natalie and walking out of the coffee shop, Lydia did have to wonder if it was slightly easier for her because she was so used to it. She sighed heavily, continuing down the street to her car. She drove over to the copy shop where her pamphlets were already done. Another plus to a small town.

She was going to need to fold them, but a little bit of menial labor was actually welcome. Of course, to do the whole task, she would have to enlist her team, but she could get a start on it.

And since she was already in town it was tempting to just stop by her house. Just for a little bit. Maybe she would fold her pamphlets there.

She pulled into her driveway, a feeling of relief washing over her. She hadn't been back here in a few weeks. Mostly because she was afraid that when she walked into the door, she would burrow down deep and never come back out. And, when she walked inside, she couldn't deny that she definitely had that desire.

She set her box of pamphlets down, then took a stack out of them, taking a seat on the floor and spreading them around her. She stood up, putting her phone in her speaker dock, something she had left here by accident that she would absolutely be bringing back with her, and she turned on some country music.

With Dierks Bentley to guide her through pamphlet folding, some of the weirdness of her previous encounter began to slide away.

She worked steadily with songs in the background, until her back began to ache and she leaned backward, trying to ease the tension in her spine. And then she began to fixate on the song lyrics that were filtering through her living room. And they were kind of sexy, and about moonlight and kissing and things that she didn't really want to think about.

She looked up, and realized that it was dark outside. She had been sitting on the floor for hours—no wonder she was in pain.

She looked around the room. The familiar room with everything in its place. She was comfortable here. She really wanted to hide and pretend that this whole thing with Colton wasn't happening.

There was a knock on her door and she startled. “Just a second,” she said, pushing herself into a standing position. It was probably one of her neighbors. Because the house had been empty for a few weeks, and everyone knew she wasn't staying there, it was probably strange to see a light on inside.