by Maisey Yates
Colton bit back a rising tide of jealousy he had not been expecting. “And that’s a problem because you...still have something going with him? Chamber of Commerce and Historical Society shenanigans. Which, incidentally, sounds like the dustiest sex imaginable.”
She frowned. “His sex was not dusty.”
“But was his penis inoffensive?”
“I’m not having this conversation with you. Not right now.” She looked behind him again. “And to answer your question, no, nothing is still going on between the two of us. But I kind of broke up with him because I didn’t want things to progress between us any further than they already had.”
“Meaning...what? Role play?”
“Meaning he wanted to move in. And eventually get married. And I said no. I told him I didn’t think that kind of commitment was for me.”
“Oh. So you think he’s going to be mad because you did get married.”
“Probably. I kind of broke his heart.”
“Lydia Carpenter, I didn’t realize you were a Jezebel.”
“I ran off with my friend’s fiancé. You should have known.”
“I guess that was the warning.”
“Okay, we have to sit now. And, you have to behave.”
“We’ve been through this already. I always behave.”
She looked at him, studying him closely for a moment. “Except for sometimes with me.”
That struck him straight in the chest. “Same goes.”
“Sometimes,” she replied, her voice scratchy.
And then it was time for him to take her hand. Because dinner was being served. He reached out, slowly taking hold of her, lingering a little overlong as he let his fingers drift over the back of her hand. He didn’t need to touch her like this. He didn’t need to make an event out of it. But also, it seemed wrong not to.
Partly because he had been celibate for three months before that night in Las Vegas. Partly because casually touching Lydia didn’t seem right.
Not when he was only allowed to do it so briefly. Not when he was preventing himself from having what he wanted most. It was like taking a sip of something you wanted to drink in deep. But sips were all he was allowed. So he would take them slowly. Indulgently. And yeah, maybe that wouldn’t do much of anything for his craving, but if all you got was a taste you better relish it.
And tastes were all he felt like he was getting all night. Not just of Lydia, but of his dinner. There were more tables than there were courses, so he found himself taking a bite, attempting to make casual conversation, and then getting ushered off to the next table. Lydia seemed to have boundless energy for the whole thing.
It was strange, following her lead in a social setting. That was not his usual default. For anything. He had gone to a great many events with Natalie over the years, and it was like a well-worn imitation of what his parents had done before him.
His father forged business connections and made conversation while his mother clung quietly to his side.
Natalie was more than happy to assume that position. And he had been more than happy to have her there. This was...this was something else. Lydia would never do that. Lydia would always be out there trying to achieve her own ends during an event.
Lydia seemed to be entirely comprised of ambition and good intentions. And what he had seen as being uptight was...well, she was uptight. But also, she was enthusiastic, and she cared a lot. So when things weren’t going her way she didn’t have the best of reactions.
If he was being completely fair, it was a little like him.
She tensed, and he realized that little silent timer on her watch had finished counting down. And that their next table was very likely the one she had been dreading.
They got up, and shuffled over to the next table, which was a slightly larger one. Most of the people there were probably over the age of sixty, but there were a few closer to their age. And only one that was male.
For some reason, Colton’s first thought was that he could easily win in a fight. Which was possibly his testosterone talking.
“Hi,” Lydia said, sitting down. “Nolan.” She greeted the man by name. He didn’t really blame her, getting it out of the way. Trying to make it less awkward. Though, in reality, nothing would probably make it much less awkward. Because Lydia looked like she was about to vibrate out of her skin.
“Hello, Lydia,” the man said, adjusting his glasses, pushing them up higher on the thin bridge of his nose. Everything about him was thin. He was reedy. And pale. And, in spite of what Lydia had said, clearly dusty. In a bookish way, not in a working outside way.
Not that he cared that Lydia had an ex—of course she did.
It was just that Colton objected to everything about this guy on sight. First of all, he made Lydia uneasy. And pretty much no one made Lydia uneasy. Therefore, anyone who did was automatically suspicious.
“I’m very interested to hear what the Historical Society is working on right now,” Lydia said, addressing the table.
“Well,” one of the women said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “the farm isn’t quite up and running yet, but once it is, we have plans to do farm-to-table dinners, tours of the original house, a corn maze, and talks from local historians and archaeologists.”
“That’s so interesting, Jenna. And I feel like it’s going to be a big draw. Both for locals and for tourists.”
It never failed to amaze him the way that Lydia remembered people. He had never listened to a single person the way Lydia seemed to listen to everyone she came into contact with. More than that, she remembered them. She knew this woman’s name. And clearly had some idea of her interests.
It was either that, or she was very good at what she did. Either way, it was amazing.
“We have some new initiatives at the museum, as well,” Nolan said, sounding every bit the stuffy librarian type Colton had figured he was. “This quarter, we’ll be doing displays in the museum that focus on the native peoples of the area. And we will also be doing portable displays, for the schools.” He looked at Colton, in a way that Colton felt was a bit too meaningful for two men to be looking at each other. “I’m going to be giving some talks at the school.”
“Great,” Colton said.
“Yes,” Lydia said, sounding much more sparkly than he did. “That is fantastic. I’m very excited to hear about all of these new initiatives. And, of course, if I’m elected I’m going to offer support for these things, as much as I possibly can.”
“It seems like being mayor would be an awfully big commitment,” Nolan said. “I felt like in the past you had some issues with that.”
“I’ve changed,” Lydia said, reaching across the space between them and taking hold of Colton’s hand. “And my commitment to Copper Ridge has always been real.”
Nolan didn’t look like he had a comeback for that. Instead, he sat back in his chair. Lydia continued to make small talk with the rest of the women around the table, and, much to his chagrin, Colton accidentally caught Nolan’s eye.
“I can’t believe you convinced her to marry you,” the other man said, clearly regarding Colton as competition of some kind.
“You know,” Colton said, knowing he was just being a dick, “it wasn’t actually that difficult.”
“Well, that’s different,” Nolan said.
“I just feel like when it’s right, it’s right.” And when you were Jack Daniel’s drunk, you were Jack Daniel’s drunk. Also, Las Vegas made it way too easy to get married. He would say neither of those things out loud.
“I felt like it was right with us. But she’s weird about her space. She wouldn’t even let me have a drawer at her house. And when I wanted to move in... I’ve never had a woman run when I wanted more of a commitment.”
“I’m not entirely sure why you feel comfortab
le discussing this with her husband, even less with her husband at a professional event,” Colton said, not quite sure where the righteous indignation was coming from. “But whatever was between you and Lydia is in the past. It has no bearing on what kind of mayor she’s going to be. I think you know that Richard Bailey has no interest in what the Historical Society is doing.” Colton was basing that entirely on having been in a relationship with the older man’s daughter. “Lydia is going to do the right thing for the town, and if you let your personal feelings get in the way of that...well, I really believe you love history as much as you say.”
He adjusted his spectacles again. “I care about the history of the town more than I care about anything else.”
“Then you should take that into account when you vote. Not just the fact that you were spurned.”
“My connection with Lydia was built on how much we both cared about the town. I’m surprised that she felt connected with you, all things considered.”
“Reason being?”
“Your family has a lot of money, but I’ve never gotten the impression the West family cared much about the heritage of the town.”
“Lydia makes me care about a lot of things,” he said simply.
Nolan didn’t have anything to say after that, and then, thankfully, their time was up.
When they stood, he wrapped his arm around Lydia’s waist, resting his hand low on her hip. He was doing it mostly for Nolan’s benefit. It was also a slightly longer, cooler sip.
Idly, he let his thumb drift across the denim, until he felt her shiver beneath his touch. It was a bad idea. He was full of bad ideas when Lydia was around.
The next table was much easier, as was the next. Pretty much any table that didn’t have an irritated ex-boyfriend at it was easier.
As dessert and coffee were about to be served, Lydia stood. “I have to make a speech. I think you’re supposed to stand to the left.”
He leaned in, whispering in her ear. “I think that’s only sex scandals.”
“Is it?”
“I don’t know. But is there one? Nolan would certainly like for there to be.”
“We’ll discuss that later.” This time, she was the one that grabbed his hand, the contact of her soft skin against his an unexpected shock.
He felt slightly ridiculous moving to the stage, standing off to the side as Lydia took her position at the center and picked up a microphone that had been set up earlier. But then, he supposed he never really questioned it when wives did the same for their politically-minded husbands.
In his defense, it wasn’t really sexism that was the issue, so much as this not being a real marriage.
“I want to thank everyone for coming out this evening,” Lydia said, her voice steady. “Your support means so much to me. Without you, I wouldn’t be anything. Without your support, my campaign doesn’t go anywhere. You are here because you believe in the things that I believe in. You’re here because you believe in Copper Ridge. So do I. More than that, I love it. It’s my home. I know that traditionally small towns have a reputation for not accepting outsiders easily. But each and every one of you accepted me, and I never once felt like I didn’t belong. I want to pay you back. All of you. Copper Ridge doesn’t need to change—it just needs to move along with time. But while we do that, I feel it’s important to respect our roots. To honor what it is about our small town that we love while building a better tomorrow. Thank you, and enjoy your dessert.”
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
LYDIA 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.
