Tough Luck Hero (7 page)

“I never drink too much.”

“Then I guess you just need to be a little more careful.”

Anger spiked through her, canceling out that electrified feeling. “I'm always careful.” She didn't need to be scolded, not by anyone.

“Except for now.”

“Maybe you should make sure you aren't standing so close to people.”

He looked slightly stricken. “I wasn't close to you.”

“Close enough for me to run into you when I turned around.” What was happening to her? She didn't talk to people this way. She took a deep, calming breath. “For which I'm sorry.”

“Good.”

He brushed past her and went to the bar. And the two proceeded to ignore each other for the rest of the night.

He had been arrogant and impossible from the moment she'd met him.

Yes, she liked people. Most of them. Not so much him.

“No,” he said now, through gritted teeth, “I did not cheat on her.”

“I just think that...”

“I think that you should maybe acknowledge the fact that you don't actually know very much about my relationship with Natalie. You know how she is about appearances. She kept you in her wedding when she was pretty angry with you.”

“That's just somebody standing next to you at a wedding. You're the person she was supposed to be married to for the rest of her life. So of course she would go through with keeping me in the wedding to minimize stress and gossip. I don't think there's an equivalent to the two.”

“It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter why she left.”

“It doesn't? I feel like I would need to know why my fiancé ditched me at the altar. But to each his own.”

“Well, when you get ditched at the altar you can make that decision for yourself.”

She sputtered, and he ignored her indignant rage, moving over to the bed to zip the suitcase shut before picking it up, throwing it over his shoulder, then grabbing the duffel bag in what was definitely an over-the-top display of masculine strength.

“Are you ready?”

“I guess so.”

“Do you know where I live?”

It occurred to Lydia then that Natalie had never once invited her out to Colton's. The two of them had lived together for the past eight months and yet she had never been to Colton's house.

“No,” she said, knowing she sounded slightly mystified. She felt slightly mystified.

“What?”

“Okay, I think it's pretty safe to say that Natalie doesn't do interpersonal relationships the way everyone else does.”

“And what makes you say that?”

Lydia lifted a shoulder. “She never invited me out to your house. She came over to mine. Well, until I announced my bid for mayor.”

“I think that proves my point pretty well. But it's nice to know that you were only willing to take it on board when the focus was moved to your relationship.”

“Whatever. I'll follow you to your house. Just load my stuff into the trunk of my car.”

“Saying please wouldn't kill you, Lydia.”

She just sort of stared at him, feeling that band of tension stretch even tighter between them. It was impossible not to notice the way his forearm muscles shifted as he worked to keep his hold on all of her luggage. The way the muscles in his broad shoulders looked even more pronounced when bearing all that weight.

Tightness crept down her spine, reminiscent of that feeling she'd had the first moment she'd met him. A kind of deep discomfort that overtook her entire body. Like something other than the normal rules of physics was suddenly in charge. And none of it made any sense. She couldn't anticipate what she might feel next, or how she might respond if he moved just a little bit, just a fraction closer.

Couldn't decide if she was angry at him, or if she wanted to trace the firm line of his jaw to see if it was as sharp as it looked. To feel that light beard beneath her fingertips, to see if it was as rough as it looked.

She swallowed hard, trying to ignore the insanity currently crawling through her. “Let's go.”

“Please,” he said, his blue eyes glinting.

He was so hardheaded. Saying please was good manners. That was just the truth. But she did not like being told what to do. “I can carry my own things,” she said.

He shrugged, setting her suitcase roughly on the ground, followed by the duffel bag. “Suit yourself.”

“Really?” she asked.

“It's that difficult for you to say please?”

“You're being a jerk.”

The corner of his mouth curved upward. “And you're being petulant.”

She growled, reaching out and grabbing hold of her suitcase, clinging to the handle as she hefted her duffel bag up and looped it over her shoulder. Then she began to walk toward the front door, her every step weighted by her things.

She turned and looked behind her, saw Colton standing there, his muscular arms crossed over his broad chest, one dark brow raised. Then she turned away from him, continuing on toward the door.

“Oh, for God's sake,” he muttered, walking toward her before taking her suitcase out of her grip. “I'm not going to make you carry that bag down to the car.”

He went on ahead of her, throwing open the front door and taking the porch steps two at a time out to where her little red sedan was parked.

She busied herself locking her door, and trying to ignore the weird sinking feeling in her stomach. Like she was leaving something behind. Like things were changing in a way she would never be able to change back. Maybe because the last time she had left her place, she hadn't gone back.

But that was dramatic. She was going ten minutes down the road.

She turned and looked to the side, at her little slice of ocean view, taking in a deep breath.

“In addition to not saying please, are you also going to leave me standing here with your bag for the next hour?”

She shot him a deadly glare. “I'm saying goodbye to my house.”

“As mentioned, you're welcome to come back to your house at any time. You just can't inhabit it. The neighbors would talk.”

“And you don't think they're going to talk about you standing out here looking at me like I'm a particularly distasteful vegetable you just found on your plate?”

“Yes,” he said, a smile curving his lips upward. “You, Lydia Carpenter, are my broccoli.”

“I guess that makes you my peaches.”

“Who doesn't like peaches? That's ridiculous.”

“I don't.” She headed down the stairs, digging in her purse for her keys. “It isn't ridiculous to dislike something.”

“I mean, you dislike something sweet, delicious, and almost universally enjoyed by the rest of the world. But sure.”

She scowled, pushing the button that popped her trunk, breezing past him. She threw the duffel bag inside, then stood, looking at him expectantly. He put the suitcase in and closed it, a little too roughly for her liking.

“I think maybe peaches are not as awesome as they think they are.”

She sniffed, getting into her car and starting the engine. Then she waited for Colton to get into his truck and pull away from the curb.

She did her best to subdue her panic by focusing on the details of town as they drove down Main Street. Rebecca Bear was outside the Trading Post, her knickknack store, closing shop for the day, taking down the American flag and bringing in the plants that were out on the doorstep.

Cassie Caldwell had already closed The Grind for the day, the little Open sign dim in the large picture window. Most businesses on Main closed early. Copper Ridge wasn't known for its exciting nightlife. But that was one of the things that Lydia loved about it. It was traditional. It was friendly. Well, for the most part.

It was true that a lot of people moved to a small town because they wanted to be left alone. So far from being the Thomas Kinkade painting that a lot of people imagined, small-town life was full of challenging dynamics. But overall, people were more relaxed and in general they were nicer than in big cities.

A difficult commute in Copper Ridge might mean that a deer ran out in front of you, rather than getting stuck in any kind of bottleneck traffic.

As she let these thoughts wash over her, she felt the stress of the past few minutes with Colton begin to drain away.

Yeah, essentially, this whole marriage would be her lying back and thinking of Copper Ridge.

That was why she was doing this. For her position in the community that she had come to love more than anything else.

The route to Colton's house wound out of town on a dirt road and into the mountains. She had to admit, she liked that. If there was one thing that she loved at least as much as the bustling main street of town, it was the thick, dark green silence of the mountains that surrounded Copper Ridge.

Colton stopped his truck in front of a large wrought-iron gate with an ornate design on it. A bear, pine trees and what looked like a river were skillfully shaped into the metal. She wondered if that was the work of Sam McCormack. She imagined it was. The McCormack brothers were two of the most skilled metalworkers in town, if not in the whole state. They were also built from all that time spent doing physical labor.

Lydia had been working with them to arrange tours of their forge for visitors to the town. She was always on the lookout for new ways to entice tourists to come to Copper Ridge, and along with that, ways to improve income for small businesses.

That was one of the reasons she and Sadie Garrett had grown so close. Sadie hosted a lot of events at her bed-and-breakfast, which had become one of the most popular places for people to stay. The whole Garrett Ranch put on a Fourth of July picnic that had become a can't-miss event for Copper Ridge and surrounding communities.

Yes, everything she did, she did for her town.

Colton entered a code on the brick pillar next to the gate, and it swung open. She drove in behind him, trying not to feel too awed by the sight of his house. She had known the West family had a compelling amount of money, but this was evidence she hadn't exactly been confronted with yet.

The simplistic description of Colton's home was log cabin. Because it was built entirely of logs. But that did the large, impressive structure a disservice.

If it was rustic, it was in a very intentional way.

It had a green metal roof, built to withstand whatever weather was dumped upon it, and a wide covered porch with some wrought-iron details that echoed the gate they had just driven through.

The door was a dark wood, the natural grain and beauty emphasized by a glossy stain that didn't disguise any of the imperfections. It was beautiful, but Lydia had a difficult time imagining Natalie living here. Rustic, Natalie was not.

Lydia supposed that love made you do crazy things. She wouldn't really know.

She parked her car and got out, attempting to minimize the impressed expression on her face.

“Home sweet home,” Colton said, his tone dry.

“I feel like I can deal with it.”

He arched a brow. “Compared to that little shoe box house you live in?”

Heat stung her cheeks, anger a reckless and unreasonable tide inside of her. “My house is not a shoe box. It's small. And it's perfect.”
And it's mine.

“I have an idea,” he said. “Why don't we practice talking to each other like we aren't enemies. Your house is fine. And mine...”

“Is fine if you're into luxury and custom details,” she said grudgingly.

Why was it so hard to...unclench around him?

She had the feeling the answer was buried somewhere in the night she couldn't remember. Because she most definitely hadn't been
clenched
then.

“From you, I'll take that as a compliment.”

Oh great, now he felt like he was on the moral high ground. Now he felt like he had won the exchange.

She followed him up the steps. “It's beautiful. Literally one of the most gorgeous homes I have ever seen. And the fact that Natalie left you at the altar has now become one of the great mysteries of our time. Because she didn't only leave you, she left this house.”

He treated her to a baleful look. Then he unlocked the door and pushed inside. She followed him, completely unable to look unimpressed now. Because, as glorious as the exterior of the home was, the interior was even more amazing. The front room was open, a large, vaulted ceiling adding the impression of endless space. Which paired nicely with the beautiful light cascading into the floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a view of the dense green timber that surrounded his property.

“It's so... There are so many trees. How do you have animals and a barn?”

“They're up the road. There's a field, a clearing.”

“I didn't realize you had such a big spread. Natalie never mentioned it.”

“Natalie didn't really care. I don't think she loved being up out of town. In truth, she probably would enjoy living in Portland better than living in Copper Ridge. But outside of Copper Ridge, neither my name nor hers carries very much weight.”

Lydia laughed. “Well, she wouldn't like that.”

“Where does your family live?”

She was taken aback by the question. “Why?”

“Because. It's a funny thing. Natalie and I are a product of our family name. I built what I have from what my dad started. I'm a West. For better or for worse. For Natalie it's the same. Her father has been the mayor since she was born. We have roots here that go all the way down. But you...you haven't been here all that long, and you've made your mark on every part of the place. I've never known anyone else to do that.”

She swallowed, her throat getting tight. She didn't really like talking about her family, but she knew that avoidance was a lot more trouble than working out the most straightforward answer. Just enough information to answer without getting into the details was always better.