Читать книгу Tough Luck Hero - Maisey Yates - Страница 11
ОглавлениеLYDIA HAD NO idea what she should bring with her. Obviously, she wasn’t going to bring her furniture. She was going to have to forward her mail. She would need clothes, but mostly early fall clothes. Maybe a winter jacket. Definitely nothing for the late-coming spring. Because they weren’t going to be married that long.
She was standing in her living room pondering these things when there was a knock on her door.
She wondered if it was Sadie with more mochas, or perhaps that was more of a fantasy than a wonderment.
“Just a second.” She turned, moving to the door and jerking it open without checking to see who was on the other side. “Hi,” she said, trying to ignore the fluttering in her stomach when she came face-to-midchest with Colton.
He was so tall. It was borderline obscene. Tall and broad and extremely muscular. Utterly masculine, with just a few days growth of gold-tinted whiskers covering his square jaw. And it made her feel a little bit regretful that she didn’t have any memories about the interior of his pants.
No. No, she was not going to go there.
“I just came to see if you needed help with anything,” he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
“I’m fine,” she said, very aware of the fact that she didn’t have everything together at all.
“So, are you about ready?”
“I mean, I’m ready kind of. Mostly. Also, you didn’t have to come and pick me up.”
“Sorry, I’m a little rusty on the protocol of how exactly you help your fake wife move into your house for a temporary period of time.”
“Yeah,” she said, “we may have to pioneer that.”
“Do you need any help?”
Absurdly, she was ridiculously edgy about the idea of him coming into her house. Possibly because when all was said and done, she kind of wanted to go back to life as it had been before she had decided to make a Colton-sized mistake.
“No. I have it. Just wait there. You can sit in...” She didn’t really want him sitting in her porch chair, either. But denying him a spot to wait was a little bit shrewish. “You can sit in the chair,” she said finally.
“Okay,” he replied, looking rather like he thought she was insane.
Well, maybe she was. But he had married her. So, that didn’t say anything good about him.
“Just a—” She held up a finger. “Just a second.”
She slammed the door shut and turned back around, looking at her half-packed duffel bag. She picked it up, turning quickly into her bedroom, then grabbing some clothes that were hanging in the closet and stuffing them into the bag. They didn’t fit. She was going to have to get a suitcase.
Several suitcases, probably.
What had she been thinking? She had been thoroughly convinced that this was some kind of overnight trip, and she was going to pack a bag, and then she was going to return to her house as though nothing had happened. She was moving in with him. That was completely different. It was... Okay, now she felt like she was going crazy.
“I was tired of waiting out on the porch. I thought the entire point was that we minimize gossip.”
She turned around, starting when she saw him standing in the doorway. “I did not invite you in. I, in fact, did the opposite of that.”
“Do you really want people to start talking about how your husband was standing on the porch looking lonely only hours after your wedding?”
“That’s so dramatic,” she said, attempting to look less perturbed than she felt.
“You’re the one with a lot of concern about appearances.”
“You’re not...disinterested in appearances, yourself. I have to find a suitcase.”
“I thought you were almost ready.”
“Okay, let’s not stand around acting like you would be fully on top of the procedure for going about all of this. I admit, I was feeling a little shortsighted. Like, I was kind of thinking of packing an overnight bag. And then I realized that we’re going to be living together for a few months.”
She could have sworn that Colton paled slightly when she spoke the words. “More like a month and a half.”
“Semantics. But we have to stay together until after the election. And presumably you need some time to allow your mother to adjust... Or whatever it is exactly that you’re waiting for her to do.”
“I would like to avoid giving her a mental breakdown,” he said, sounding exasperated.
“Right. Well, I don’t really know your mother, so I don’t really understand the situation. But I do understand that it’s kind of complicated. But all that means is that it’s not going to be a quick weekend stay at your place. And maybe I was in denial about that.”
“It’s not that big of a deal,” he said, while his expression said something else entirely.
“No,” she said, “not at all. We just have to learn to coexist.” She opened up her closet and began to rummage around, digging in the bottom until she produced her suitcase, which she hadn’t used in years.
“How hard can it be?”
Neither of them spoke the obvious, which was that they had a difficult enough time coexisting when they lived in the same small town, let alone the same house.
“I’m sure it will be super easy,” she said, hefting her suitcase up onto the bed and throwing it open. “Super, super easy.” She continued muttering as she walked into the bathroom.
She looked around at all of her things. Her makeup, put away neatly in the dark purple case that she kept on the left-hand corner of the counter. Her flat iron, snapped into its sparkly holder, which kept it and its cord carefully contained. Then she turned and looked at the shower, at the carefully organized caddy that contained her shampoo, conditioner and oil treatments.
Everything was right where she wanted it to be. Organized exactly the way it made sense to her. She didn’t have to compromise. Didn’t have to modify herself to be different for anyone. Didn’t have to contort so that she wouldn’t be in the way.
Darn it, she liked having her own space. Needed it, even. And maybe she was being really, really dramatic about the fact that she was going to be sharing a house with somebody for a couple of months. Maybe.
“It’s a vacation,” she muttered, picking up her various items. “A vacation on a ranch. With a surly roommate that will maybe cook breakfast?”
She walked out of the bathroom, back into the bedroom, where Colton was still standing in the doorway, his arms crossed over his broad chest.
“I thought you came in to help me.”
“You didn’t give me a directive. Did you want me to just aimlessly go through your things and try to decide what you needed?”
She made a scoffing noise in the back of her throat. “Obviously not.”
Silence stretched between them, along with a thick band of tension that seemed to wrap itself around her, more specifically, her throat. She found it difficult to breathe all of a sudden. For some reason, the air seemed to reduce around them. For some reason, she was unbearably conscious of the scent of the soap that he used, and just how familiar it was.
It was a reminder. A reminder that—whether she remembered it or not—she had absolutely smelled it on his skin before. Her brain didn’t remember, but right now, her body seemed to.
“Do you have a food processor?” she asked, because talking about food processors seemed as good a method as any for diffusing the unwanted crackle of tension in the room.
“Of course.”
“There’s no of course about that. A lot of men wouldn’t have one.”
“Well, I have a housekeeper. She cooks a lot of my food.”
Lydia’s eyebrows shot up. “A housekeeper?”
“You feel a little less victimized now, don’t you?”
“No. Thoroughly victimized.” She added as many clothes as she could to her bag, followed by shoes.
“It isn’t like you can’t come back to the house. You can make vague noises about how you intend to rent it out if anyone asks. But we’ll never get around to it.”
“You know, I hear some people live in cities, where nobody knows their name, or pays attention to what they’re doing.”
The corner of his mouth curved upward. “What must that be like?”
“I don’t know. Do you have a juicer? Because I juice.” She had juiced twice. Once right after she had bought the juicer, and another time when her pants had refused to zip after the holidays last year. But then, she had just bought new pants because juice with kale in it was an abomination.
Colton treated her to a baleful look. “Nobody juices.”
She scoffed. “Well, okay, I don’t do it every day. But I do stop at the store on the way to work and buy a bottle of juice sometimes.”
“Do you?” he asked, his tone rife with skepticism.
“I mean, I don’t always have time to stop on the way to work. But I do stop at the store on the way home. For a bottle. Of wine. But it’s almost grape juice.”
“I have wine, and several corkscrews. So why don’t you just leave your juicer here.”
She wanted to run through a list of yet more appliances that she would probably never use in his house, because she wanted to do something to delay the inevitable.
“Did you get Natalie’s things out of your house?” she asked.
“I paid some movers to come by this morning and take care of it. I think they took it back to her parents’ house.”
“Is that where she is?”
“You know, I didn’t make it my mission to figure out where the woman who left me at the altar was. But, seeing as she’s your friend, you might know.”
Lydia swallowed. “I didn’t exactly think she would want to hear from the bridesmaid who ended up marrying the groom.”
He laughed. “Coward.”
“So are you.”
“No, I just don’t think she’s my problem anymore. That woman is a project. And I did my very best to make her happy.”
Lydia should not feel at all like she had to defend her friend. Natalie had abandoned Colton at the altar. Not only that, the relationship between the two of them had been borderline toxic during the planning of the wedding. The only reason that Lydia had continued to be involved was for appearances. Which was what her entire life was beginning to feel like it came down to.
Still, Natalie had been the first friend she had made in Copper Ridge. And things might have been rocky in the ensuing years, but she still didn’t think that Colton had a right to act like he had no stake in what had happened. Natalie cared more about appearances than Lydia did. Possibly more than Lydia and Colton combined.
“Right. You had nothing to do with her running out on the wedding.”
“I told you, I was totally shocked.”
“Totally. Completely. There were no indicators that things were perhaps not completely healthy?”
“I didn’t know. If I’d known I would not have submitted to standing up in front of the entire town with my dick in my hand.”
Heat flooded her face, which was stupid, because he was being crass on purpose, and not talking about his actual...that. Still, it forced her mind there. And that, in combination with the scent of the soap, was a little too real.
“Fine. I’m just saying. It’s clear to me the relationship wasn’t perfect. And I sincerely doubt that she’s the only one at fault here.”
“Oh, are you a relationship expert? Does that mean that this marriage is getting in the way of a close, intimate relationship you’re in?”
She shot him her deadliest glare. “Yes. The relationship I hold most dear. The one I share with my personal space.”
“Well, as the more experienced party, I’ll just say this. There is no justification for leaving someone at the altar.”
“Did you cheat on her?” She didn’t know what was driving her just now, why she wanted to push him. But then, that was kind of the story of her entire history with Colton. From the moment they had been introduced they had pushed each other’s buttons. And that didn’t happen to her. Everyone liked her. She was diplomatic by nature. It was one reason she was going into politics.
More than that, she just liked people.
But him, she didn’t like. She just hadn’t. Not from the first moment they had been introduced. They had been at Ace’s, and Natalie had been chomping at the bit to introduce Lydia to the man she had been dating for a couple of months. It was serious, according to Natalie, so it was time to see if he passed the friend test.
She could remember it clearly because she’d had such a visceral, intense reaction to the sight of him. Like a hand had wrapped itself around her spinal cord, squeezing hard, tension climbing up from that point and up to the base of her neck.
“This is my boyfriend, Colton West.” Natalie smiled like she was holding a winning lottery ticket.
Lydia knew the name Colton West. Everyone in Copper Ridge did. But she’d never met him before. And she hadn’t realized he was quite so good-looking.
Lydia stuck out her hand and he grasped it tightly. Immediate discomfort rolled over her like a wave and she let go of him, taking a step back.
“I’m Lydia,” she said. “Nice to meet you.”
Her throat felt scratchy and dry and she felt uncertain. Insecure. She never felt uncertain or insecure.
The corners of his mouth had turned up slightly before flatlining again. “You too.”
She attempted conversation with him all night, only to have every topic killed after a couple of one word answers.
She wandered to the bar, hoping to get another diet soda, since she was driving. And after placing her order she turned and brushed right up against Colton West’s hard chest.
Something raced through her that felt a whole lot like an electric shock, and his already stoic expression turned to granite.
“Had too much to drink?”
“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.
“I was raised in Seattle. Went to school there, was born there. My family is still there. It’s a beautiful city, but I like Copper Ridge because it’s small. It’s more personal. I guess I’m a little bit of an old lady trapped in a younger body. Most people that move to Copper Ridge do it to retire, I did it to work. To feel part of something. You don’t get that in bigger places.”
“But your family is there. Are you close to your parents?”
She gritted her teeth. “Not especially.”
“I seem to be close to mine. Even though it isn’t easy. My mom is...well, she’s a project. And the whole bastard child thing kind of put a damper on my relationship with my dad.”
Lydia’s heart twisted. For whatever reason, they seemed to be having a cease-fire right now, and she was going to go ahead and honor it. “I bet. Were you close before?”
“I’m the only son he has around. So yeah, I guess we were.” He shook his head. “I’m not the only son he has around. He has Jack Monaghan. He just spent thirty-five years ignoring him.”
“Family is terrible.”
“You think so?”
“I just told you I don’t see my parents who live one state over. Family is a terrible, complicated thing.”
“On that we can agree.” He lifted a hand. “But, we’re never going to agree about peaches.”
“I’m okay with that.”
“I’ll grab your things, and then you can start settling in.”
Colton headed outside, leaving Lydia alone with her thoughts. She turned a circle in the room, examining the fine details of the space. The rich fabrics on the couch and chair, the rustic coffee table that appeared to be made out of the same logs that had been used to form the bulk of the house, and a piece of sheet metal. Again, something that looked old, but probably cost more than her last paycheck.
She was going to have to live here with Colton, live here and not spend the next few months tripping over him. Not spend the next month clashing with him. She felt like she was being crushed down into a little ball, and that made it difficult to breathe.
She was imagining spending the next few months tiptoeing through this space, doing her best to make sure her footsteps didn’t sound on the hardwood floor.
It reminded her too much of other things. Too much of her childhood home.
Of being the least important person in a space. She swallowed hard, shaking her head, brushing her hair out of her eyes. No, she wasn’t going to do that. Because she didn’t do that anymore. She had driven into Copper Ridge at the age of twenty-two and started carving out niches for herself all over the place. Had made sure that she had effected change in the place, that she didn’t tiptoe, that she wasn’t quiet.
She wasn’t about to behave any other way. Not for anyone. And certainly not for Colton West.
