She picked up the photo of a younger Wes surround by who she assumed were his parents and sisters. Wes didn’t have the fine lines around his eyes that he did these days—lines that didn’t age him as much as enhance his features. Thankfully, he looked more like his mother than his father, whose scowl cast a shadow over the photo. She put it back and looked around the room.
Wes didn’t have much in the way of furniture, but the room was beautiful with high ceilings and crown moldings. What he lacked in housekeeping skills he made up for with his restorative talents. This house was hundreds of years old. He could have taken the easy way out and modernized it, but it was obvious he loved bringing out the beauty of what was already in place.
She heard his footsteps on the stairs and rushed from his room through the bathroom. Seconds later, there was a soft knock on her door.
Pretending like she hadn’t been snooping, she messed up her hair and answered the door with a yawn as if she’d crawled out of bed seconds before.
“Good morning, Lydia.” His eyes took her in from her tangled mess to her pink painted toenails. When his gaze stopped at her breasts on their way back up, she looked down to find her traitorous nipples pebbled and pointing at him.
She immediately crossed her arms over her chest. “Did you need something?”
His tongue swept across his lower lip, leaving it wet. “Just wanted to make sure you slept okay and to tell you if you don’t want Sarge in your bed, you’ll have to make sure your door clicks when you shut it. I saw he nudged it open at some point last night.” Had he spied on her while she slept?
“Oh, yes. I woke up to a wet tongue and fur. Can’t complain through. It’s been a while since I woke up to kisses and a warm body.” She giggled. How sad was it that the only man she could get into her bed was a dog who traded her without a thought for a bowl of kibble?
“I’m heading out to the paper mill. I’ve got the guys you met last night meeting me there.”
“Are you working for them?” She heard them say something about meeting at the site.
Wes braced his hands on the doorframe. “Other way around. They work for me. I own Covington Construction.”
She realized her mistake when his lips stretched into a thin line. She seemed to constantly underestimate him.
“Right, that makes sense.” She glanced back at her room. “You do beautiful work.”
He watched her for a second before he pulled his left hand down from the frame and opened it to reveal a key. “You’ll probably need this.” He pushed off the frame. “Help yourself to anything you want. I left the remote on the coffee table. There’s a pot of fresh brewed coffee for you downstairs. Have a good day, Lydia.”
She stepped into the hallway to watch him walk away. His jeans hugged his ass like a wet leather glove. He talked to her yesterday about choices. At this minute, she didn’t have much choice but to stand in place and watch him disappear. To turn away from a body like that would have been disrespectful to the universe.
When the crown of his head disappeared down the stairs, she headed straight to the bathroom. While Wes had preserved the beauty of the house, he’d also upgraded. Multiple jets shot from the walls of the shower. She took five minutes to figure out how to run the thing, but when she stepped inside, she wasn’t sure she’d ever leave. Wes might come home and find her naked and pruned, but she’d be happy.
Hot water pulsed over her body like masseuses’ hands kneading her skin. The tension in her muscles didn’t come from overexertion. It came from the weight of disappointment.
Since she’d left her overnight bag in the bathroom at the apartment, she lathered herself up with what was available. The smell of Wes’s citrus body wash moved through the steamy air. She was covered in his scent by the time she stepped out to dry off.
Back on her bed was Sarge, who snuggled under the covers. “Out.” She pointed to the door. “If you’re not going to find me a job or make me breakfast, you don’t get to sleep in my bed.” When she stomped her bare foot on the hardwood floor, he jumped from the bed and slunk out the door.
Fifteen minutes later she found him curled under the kitchen table. Just as Wes promised, there was fresh coffee in the pot and a muffin on a plate in front. Lydia’s heart skipped a beat at his thoughtfulness. Despite her less than pleasant demeanor the past few days, he’d opened his house to her and made her feel like she was welcome. That was a lot more than she could say for Adam.
Looking for a way to repay the kindness, she decided the one thing Wes needed more than anything was to have his kitchen cleaned.
She picked up the pile of towels from the corner and found the washer and dryer in a mudroom at the back of the house. As she dumped detergent into the tub and started the machine, she asked herself why she was doing this. Was it because she wanted to or because she felt she had to? Was it to make him happy or her?
She felt it was right to contribute something. She knew without a doubt if she left the pile there it would be there until no towels remained. Wes had no expectation of her cleaning his house. Maybe that was why she did it. It wasn’t an obligation but an act of kindness returned for his hospitality. Returning the kindness made her happy.
The OCD in her couldn’t stop there. By noon, she’d cleaned the kitchen, dusted the downstairs and was starting on alphabetizing the canned goods when her phone rang. She rushed to it hoping it was an employment call. Those hopes were dashed when she saw it was Sage.
“What’s up?” Lydia answered.
“Just reminding you to come by the bar tonight and don’t forget the ribbon cutting for the new park is tomorrow. We have to man the first aid tent.”
She could live without the bar tonight, but the prospect of working tomorrow delighted her. It would at least eat some hours in her day. “Perfect. Glad to help, but do you really think we need a tent? It’s a park.”
“Better safe than sorry. Katie rented a bouncy castle and the Bishops are barbecuing. Either could be a recipe for disaster, but combine the two, and I can guarantee the need for Band-Aids.”
“Sounds good. I’ve got my first aid kit in the car.”
“I’ll bring the one from the clinic. What are you doing today?”
“Oh, you know, just had a massage and waiting for a manicure and a pedicure. Thought I’d take in a movie and maybe lunch at the little Italian café down the street,” she teased.
“So you’re drinking coffee and job hunting.”
Her sister knew her well. “Actually, that’s on my agenda later. I had a massage in the most amazing shower, and I finished my third cup of coffee and the muffin Wes left for me.” Lydia topped off her cup and walked to the cabinet where nothing made sense. It was a wonder the man found food at all. She picked up a can of soup that had expired six months ago and tossed it into the trash can. She’d replace everything she threw away.
“He made you coffee and bought you a muffin?”
“Sweet, huh?”
“I’d say. He’s a good man. You know he stepped in when all that shit went down with Dalton. He power washed the graffiti off Dalton’s house. No one asked him to do it, he just did. He also got his crew to bulldoze Samantha’s burned down house. He’s the one in charge of building the new firehouse and the Guild Center. I don’t know how he does it all, but he seems to love it.”
“Yes, weird, right? How a man as hot as Wes could be happy here.”
Sage’s growl came through loud and clear. “What does Wes being hot have to do with anything? He’s happy because he’s doing what he loves.”
“So he told me. I wonder what he’ll feel like in ten years when he’s doing the same thing day in and day out. You think old Ray has few options in town? There doesn’t seem to be much dating material for anyone north of twenty-five years old. Wes is screwed.”
“Aspen Cove isn’t the only pond to fish in. There’s Copper Creek, Cross Creek, and Silver Springs.”
“Oh, I never thought about other places. Does Wes have a girlfr
iend?” She hadn’t considered the possibility. Aspen Cove made her farsighted. She couldn’t see in front of her own eyes, let alone past the city limits.
“I have no idea. I don’t know him that well.” In the background, Otis barked. “Are you interested in him?”
Am I? The thought of time with Wes didn’t repel her like most men did, but he wasn’t like most men, or he didn’t seem to be.
“He’s nice, and I’ll give him cute, but he’s really not my type.”
“Otis, get out of the water,” her sister yelled. “Sorry, the damn dog is chasing birds into the lake. Back to Wes, it’s a good thing he’s not your type because your type hasn’t been good for you.” Sage had dried her tears for days when the end arrived. “You’ll never know if you don’t put yourself out there. You can’t be a nun, that ship sailed the day you gave your V-card to Thomas O’Rourke, another lousy choice in men.”
Sage was right. Thomas was cute, but that was all he’d had going for him. “I’m leaving so there’s no sense in getting involved with anyone.”
Sage laughed. “I’m not asking you to marry him. He’s a nice guy. What’s the harm in having fun with a nice guy?”
“I’ll think about it.”
Another growl filled the silence. “That’s your problem, you think too much. Come to the bar tonight. It’s karaoke night. Everyone will be there.”
“I said I’d think about it.” She hated the frustrated tone she took with her sister.
“Stinking thinking,” Sage said before she hung up and Lydia went back to organizing the pantry.
Wes had a lot of ready-made food. It was a wonder he was so solid and fit. She opened one of the six boxes of Pop-Tarts and put a pastry in the toaster. The least she could do was limit his simple carbohydrates by taking this treat off his hands.
When Sarge scratched at the back door, she let him into the fenced yard. Like the house, it was in the process of being refurbished with the flowerbeds tilled and waiting for planting, which couldn’t begin until after Mother’s Day due to the potential for frost.
A pergola sat white and pristine in the corner of the yard. Yellow and purple flowers poked their heads through the thawed ground, signaling spring in the Rockies had begun.
The yard would be beautiful when in full bloom. She could see herself sitting in a lounge chair reading a book. Sadness overcame her when she realized she’d never see this yard in its full glory. Wes’s words came back to her about luck and choices. If luck shined on her, she’d be working hours away in Colorado Springs.
Sarge bounded back up the stairs and took his place at her feet under the table. She nibbled on the strawberry pastry, chewing off the edges first and working her way into the sweet center. Her work in the kitchen was finished. Time to get back to her real life.
It was nearing five o’clock when she opened her computer. She scanned the forty emails that littered her mailbox.
Thunk
Her heart pounded when she saw an email from Memorial Hospital.
With the cursor hovering above the message, she debated opening it. The subject line gave nothing away. Employment Inquiry was all it said. Clicking would take liquid courage. No matter what the email said, her life would change forever. Hopefully it was a change for the better.
She rose and took the bottle of Chardonnay she’d bought yesterday from the now-clean refrigerator. Once she found the opener and a wineglass, she returned to her seat.
The cork popped and the glug-glug of the wine sounded as she splashed it into the glass. After one deep swallow, she opened the email and her entire life crumbled.
Chapter Ten
Wes entered the house expecting Sarge to race toward him for the treat he’d hidden in the laces of his boot, but his dog was nowhere in sight. If not for the whimpering coming from the kitchen, he would have thought the house was empty.
When the sound grew to a plaintiff wail, he rushed toward it like his boots were on fire. On the floor, curled up next to Sarge, was Lydia. Her tearstained face was buried in Sarge’s fur. The poor dog looked up at him as if to say save me.
Wes dropped to his knees. “Hey, sweetheart.” He moved her damp hair from in front of her eyes. Those beautiful swollen eyes ringed in red. With an empty wineglass next to her, Wes knew things in Lydia’s life had taken a turn for the worse.
He pried her fists from Sarge’s fur and pulled her to his chest. He didn’t expect her to climb into his arms, but she did. He fell back to lean against the wall and lifted her onto his lap. “It’s okay,” he whispered against her hair. Today she didn’t smell like peaches. She smelled like him, and he liked how that made him feel. Possessiveness came over him bringing out the need to protect her.
She sobbed until his shirt was soggy. “I’m sorry.”
“Shh, it’s okay. You have nothing to be sorry about. A good cry is sometimes the best thing.” He still had no idea what happened to her. Had the asshole boyfriend reached out and twisted her wounded heart? It was hard to tell with women. For all he knew she could have eaten her last candy bar or finished a good book or recently watched a Nicholas Sparks movie. That always sent Courtney for the Kleenex, but something told Wes this anguish went deeper.
He lifted her chin and thumbed the tears from beneath her eyes. “Tell me what’s wrong.” Without thought, his lips brushed the top of her head.
Several jagged breaths later she leaned back and said, “My life is over.”
He cupped her cheeks with both hands. “Your life isn’t over.”
She crumbled against him and cried more. Between the hiccups and whimpers that nearly broke his heart, he held her tight and asked her to explain.
“I’ve let them all down. My parents. My grandparents. When they died, I promised them I’d become something. Their expectations of me shouldn’t end because their lives did. I wanted to become someone they could be proud of. Today I got the final rejection letter. I’ll never be anything.” Her cries grew louder while his hug grew tighter. “No one wants to hire me. No one wants me.”
Wes waited until her sobbing stopped before he stood and put her into a chair at the table. A quick refill of her wineglass and a cold beer for him and he was back at her side.
“That’s not true.”
She laughed, not the funny laugh that came from humor, but the kind that came from hysteria.
“But it is. You think Adam was the first to bail on me. Hell, the longest relationship I’ve ever had is with my sister, and that’s because I’m like a sticky booger she can’t shake off. How sad is that?”
All he wanted was to pick her up and set her back on his lap. Instead, he brought the cold beer to his lips. It was the only thing stopping him from kissing hers. Showing her how wrong she was. He wanted her. “If other men don’t see your value, you’re not looking at the right men.”
Lydia’s head bobbled like a dashboard toy. “Men are like puppies, they’re adorable when you take them home but then they crap all over everything.”
Wes pointed to his chest. “Man here. Although a lot of men are assholes, some of us aren’t.”
She looked shocked as if she only just realized he was there. “God, I’m the puppy in this situation. You’ve done everything to help me, and I just crapped all over your gender. I’m sorry.”
She reached out and laid her hand on his knee. The heat of her touch raced straight to his groin. How long had it been since he made love to a woman? He pressed his memory for a face—a name—a time. All he could come up with was the vague memory of a girl in Vail the weekend of his divorce. That was nearly a year ago. No wonder Lydia’s touch made him hard as stone. He’d gone far too long without, but after the failure of his marriage, he promised himself to not get involved with a woman who didn’t want what he did. His relationship with Courtney had been like blending oil and water. Outside of the bedroom, they’d never truly come together.
“I get you’re unhappy. Maybe you need to revisit your goals and choices. Maybe this is the universe
telling you to take a step back and evaluate.”
“All right, all wise and powerful one, next you’ll be telling me to take my lemons and make lemonade.”
“Only if you like lemonade. If not, make something else.”
“Not much use for lemons.” She dipped her finger into her wine and rimmed the glass until a note rang out. Sarge ran into the kitchen and howled at the pitch. Lydia laughed, which was a far better sight than her tears.
“Go get changed. You’re full of dog hair. It’s karaoke night at Bishop’s Brewhouse and you’re going. It’s an unwritten town requirement to show.”
She tipped back her glass and gulped down her wine. “I’ve been told, but I don’t really feel like being around happy people. Makes it more clear how miserable I am.”
He set his beer down. “What you need is an attitude adjustment.” He bent over and gently picked her up. When she squirmed, he tossed her over his shoulder. One hand wrapped around her thighs while the other pressed against her ass. He knew it would feel perfect under his touch.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking control.” He marched down the hallway, up the stairs, and set her on her feet in front of the door. “Get changed. I’m going to shower and dress, and then I’m taking you out and you will have fun.”
“You can’t make me have fun.” She blew the hair that had fallen in front of her face away. He loved the way she puckered her lips and fisted her hips to get her way. It might have worked in the past with other men. Not tonight. Not with him.
“Is that a challenge? I love a challenge. Be ready in twenty minutes, or I’ll strip you down and change you myself.” He left her standing in the hallway. The heat of her stare warmed him through and through.
In the bathroom, he tugged his bandage loose. The stitches weren’t irritated or swollen. In fact, his hand only hurt if he pressed firmly against the wound.
One Hundred Promises Page 7
