CHAPTER 13
“So you want me to be your fake wife.” Lydia didn’t know whether to feel flattered, disappointed that the only reason he asked her was because she was a ‘nice-girl’, or angry that Colton would think she’d ever go along with a scheme like this.
“At least fiancée. Only for a little while, until the sponsors cool down.”
She crossed her arms. “How long is a little while?”
“I don’t know.”
He looked fit to be tied. Agitated and ill at ease. If she wasn’t so discombobulated, she’d find his discomfort amusing. She’d never had the upper hand where Colt was concerned. Even as a teenager, he’d been cocky and confident, always in control. In fact, the only time she’d seen him scared and unsure of himself was the night he’d shown up on their front porch asking for help. And even though he made her crazy, her heart had gone out to him. She couldn’t help it. But posing as his fiancée? That was asking a lot. And what would it mean for her boot company?
He scrubbed a hand across his jaw. “Look, can we go somewhere quiet and talk about this?”
She should hop out of the truck, go back inside and ask Luci Cruz or Emmaline to take her home. But her inner voice chided her. What would wild Lydia do? If she was truly done being Librarian Lydia, she should hear Colton out. Besides, there might be… perks to this arrangement.
“Fine. You know how to get to the fire station?”
He nodded and jammed the truck into gear.
Lydia pulled on her seatbelt. “Two blocks down and one block behind it.
“Got it.”
Neither of them spoke on the short drive over. About seven minutes later, Colt pulled into the driveway of the bungalow she shared with Luci and Emmaline.
Colt let out a low whistle. “Nice place. How’d you score this with the housing shortage?”
“I didn’t. I’m just renting a room. Luci’s parents own it. The worst of the tornado went a few blocks north. It needed a new roof, but that was from the hail. Emmaline’s staying here until Main Street reopens later this spring.”
Colton set the brake. “Wait here.” He hopped out and hurried around the front of the truck, reaching her door in time to offer his hand.
She took it, then instantly regretted it as a zap of awareness shot straight to her chest. Colt didn’t let go once her feet touched the ground. She glanced up at him, heart kicking, but couldn’t bring herself to remove her hand. Would he always have this effect on her? Lately, it felt like every touch was an effort in self-control. Against her better judgment, she held his hand up the walk and across the porch to the front door.
“My answer really has nothing to do with whether you’ll invest in my boots?” she asked when they stepped inside.
“Scouts honor.”
She waved him to the couch. “Coming from you, that’s not much.”
Colt removed his Stetson and sat at one end, hat in hand. “I’ve changed Lydia. Give me some credit?”
She toed off her boots and sank into the opposite corner, tucking her feet underneath her. “Have you? Really? Then why ask me to be your pretend fiancée?”
She could see him struggling as he chewed on that. With a sigh, he set down his hat on the coffee table in front of them. Then he leaned back, throwing an arm across the back of the couch. “I would never lie to you Lyds. I might have been less than… honorable when we were young–”
She made a disbelieving sound in her throat.
“Okay, okay, I was a total jackass. I deserved everything Travis dished out. But I swear, I’ve changed.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “There were three women in your hot tub in Vegas.”
At least he looked discomfited. “Nothing happened.”
“But would it have? If I hadn’t interrupted?”
Two pink streaks erupted across his cheekbones as he shook his head. “Nope.”
Lydia couldn’t control the laugh that erupted from her throat. “I don’t believe that.”
He fixed her with a look so intense, she stilled. Was he telling the truth?
“I’ll not deny I have a reputation.”
“One that apparently your sponsors don’t care for,” she responded dryly.
“That appears so. But I also have a reputation to maintain in, er, other circles.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh for heaven’s sake. That’s horseshit. Why not admit you like the attention? You always have.”
“Of course I like the attention,” he shot back, sitting forward. “Who wouldn’t?”
“A normal person? Who values relationships?”
Her words hung suspended between them, and her heart sank at the stubborn set of his face. “Look, Colt, I’d love to help you–”
“Please,” he rasped. “There’s no one else I can ask. No one I’d want to ask,” he amended, eyes darting to where she sat still curled up. “Name your terms. I’ll even double my investment if you want.”
“Oh for heaven’s sake,” she groaned, pushing off the couch and rounded the coffee table. She had way too much energy coursing through her to sit still. “You’re not going to pay me to be your fake fiancée.” She could feel his eyes tracking her as she paced back and forth across the room. “What about Millie Prescott?”
“The hippie?”
She’d laugh at his tone of voice if she wasn’t so out of sorts. “Or-or Emmaline? Or Luci? You’re friends with her brother.” Surely, there was someone. And seeing him with another woman would be the perfect antidote to the late-night fantasies that had become a regular occurrence since Vegas.
He shook his head with a half-laugh. “Tony’d kick my ass if I looked sideways at his sister.”
“Okay, good point.” The way he was staring at her made her insides jump. Like he wanted to eat her up. And she liked that thought too much for comfort.
He stood, not taking his eyes from her. “Lydia.”
“Emma Sinclaire?” she squeaked as he stepped around the coffee table. She stopped short, struck by the sheer magnetism of him. He moved with a lethal grace. To be sure, he had swagger, too much of it, but this was something else, born of confidence and trial by fire. “No go, huh?” she offered once her voice returned.
He shook his head, and caught her hands, bringing them to his mouth. Her pulse ran out of control when his lips grazed the skin on the back of her hands, and a rush of exquisite heat settled between her legs. It was all she could do to not squirm from the sensation.
“Only you, Lyds.”
She bit her top lip, hard. The pain didn’t do anything to calm her breathing. But Colt seemed to like it, given his sharp inhale and the spark of desire that heated his eyes when she tongued the mark.
“You can’t deny the chemistry between us,” he murmured, grazing his mouth over her hands again. Her skin danced where he touched it. Fizzing like fresh champagne.
But no, she could, and she would. The second she gave into her baser feelings where Colt was concerned was the second things would spin out of control. “I-I don’t want to talk about it,” she said breathlessly.
His voice sounded like sin and smoke. “Darlin’, you stripped down to your very sexy skivvies and propositioned me. We’re absodamnlutely gonna talk about this. No going back.”
The way he looked at her heated the room. Hell, it could set the whole town on fire. She could feel her resolve weakening. The curious, more reckless side of herself itching to take a walk on the wild side with Colt. “My mother will never buy this,” she murmured faintly.
“She doesn’t have to know.”
“But she’ll find out. Mama always finds out.”
“Will that be the end of the world?”
His eyes were hypnotic, capturing her, melting her defenses one excuse, one kiss at a time. “She will tan your hide, Colton, if she finds out any way but from us.” Her breath came in shallow puffs, dictated by the speed of her heart galloping in her chest. His hands were big and warm, and he had such a firm grip on her that for the first time ever, she wanted to lean into him, absorb some of his strength. His confidence.
She leaned forward. She couldn’t help it. “You better keep your mouth shut about this.”
“Anything else darlin’?” Colton gave her a saucy grin that reached all the way to his eyes.
“No other women. Not even in a hot tub.”
“No problem,” he agreed rapidly, without even a blink.
“No drugs.”
“Been clean nine years.”
“No booze, either.”
“No booze?”
“Okay, no boozing when I’m not with you, and when I am with you, you better hold your liquor.”
“Fair enough.”
“Flowers occasionally.”
He winked at her. “Happy to oblige, but don’t you think that will make people suspicious?”
He had a point. “You’re right. No flowers. What about church?”
“You might as well announce it with a neon sign.”
“True. Okay, no church either.”
“Business stays business.”
“Of course.”
Suspicion began to worm its way into her conscious. Was he so desperate to clean up his reputation that he was agreeing to everything? He was a businessman. He should at least want to negotiate something.
Alright then, she might as well push his buttons all the way. “And one last thing,” she said primly, removing her hands from his, ignoring the hole the loss of his touch left inside her. “If we’re keeping this strictly business – no sex.”