CHAPTER 29
Lydia didn’t talk the fifteen-minute drive back to the bungalow.
Colt reached out, tucking an errant curl behind her ear. “You’ve been awful quiet. Everything okay?”
She blinked slowly, taking her eyes off the road for the barest of seconds as she looked heavenward for help she was certain wouldn’t come from the ceiling. “Just tired.” Lame excuse, and he’d probably see right through it, but she refused to open a can of worms, and talking about feelings with Colt would only do that, and worse.
“You’re never ‘just tired’, Lyds,” he admonished gently. “What gives?”
She blew out a long breath.
What gives?
How could she tell him how profoundly moved she’d been, seeing him hold his niece? The wonder on his face, the gentleness. The way he’d looked at Travis with new understanding. The ache in her heart had been so intense, she thought she might faint. He didn’t want the same things from his life that she wanted, and she had to accept that. Brace herself for their inevitable parting, because when their show ended, when Colton’s reputation was in the clear, her heart would disintegrate.
Just this morning, she’d started looking at cheap warehouse space in several cities across the country, because once Colton walked away, she couldn’t stay in Prairie. Seeing him but not being with him would be more than she could take. She’d have to leave.
She pulled into the drive and cut the engine.
“Talk to me, Lydia,” he murmured with that sweet seductive tone that always made her sing like a canary. He stroked a finger down her jawline.
The words jammed up in her throat. God forgive her for being a coward. She couldn’t put herself on the line for him again. When he heard the words I Love You, his rejection would be swifter than the last time she’d showed her true feelings all those years ago. Colt might come to love someone someday, but it wouldn’t be her, and it would be long after she’d figured out how to move on with her life. A sob threatened to replace the words stuck at the back of her mouth.
The porch light flashed, signaling that Luci knew she was in the driveway. Saved by the bell. Flashing him a smile, she unbuckled her seatbelt. “They’re waiting for us inside.”
“Who’s waiting for us inside?” Colt muttered, obviously irritated.
“Luci’s family. She has them for dinner once a week. Hope you saved room after mama’s pie.”
“You didn’t tell me there was going to be a second dinner,” he groused.
“Sorry. Forgot.” She hopped out of the SUV before she said more. In truth, it had slipped her mind. She’d been too wrapped up in Colton for any other part of her brain to work, and at least now, the Cruz family would give her cover. Lydia put on her game face and pushed open the front door.
“We’re out back tonight,” Luci hollered from the kitchen. “And don’t worry, no one touched the projects.”
The aromas coming from the kitchen were mouthwatering. “Is that posole?” Colton asked.
“Good nose,” Luci sang as she handed over a bowl. “Condiments are outside. Green and red chile sauce, sour cream, cilantro, lime, avocado, and cheese.”
“What about you, Lydia?” Luci asked. “Mama made it special tonight.”
“What’s the occasion?” Luci’s mother rarely cooked anymore, having handed the primary duties to the younger members of the Cruz family. But she always cooked for special occasions.
“A perfect summer night.” Luci leaned in. “I think she misses cooking for a group every now and then.”
Lydia accepted a bowl only because if she refused, Luci would start grilling her, and Lydia didn’t want to make a scene in front of her family. Her life felt dramatic enough at the moment. She followed Colt to the back deck, unable to hide a grin at the white lights someone had strung up. One of Luci’s cousins played guitar in the corner. Someone had started a bonfire in the middle of the backyard. Clearly, they were here for the duration. Lydia fought a sigh. More than anything, she wanted quiet, space to think, to sort out her feelings where Colt was concerned, and to figure out a plan of action in the wake of a broken engagement that never had been in the first place.
Colt pulled out a chair for her, then sat next to her. “I know you’re putting on a good face, but something is going on. What’s it gonna take for you to fess up, sweetheart?”
Again, the words bubbled up, ready to be heard. She wavered. He’d never been anything but honest with her from the get-go. He’d let her call the shots every step of the way. What were the chances that he’d turn her down? Significant, given their one and only conversation about love and marriage. He’d been honest about those feelings, too. Putting her posole down on an upside-down crate someone had turned into a table, she stood. “I’m sorry,” she choked out. “I think I need some air.” Never mind that she was already outside. She rushed back into the house, through the kitchen, and out to the front porch.
Fireflies winked on the front lawn, and she sank onto the porch swing with a relieved sigh. There, in the dark, she could gather her thoughts, and if the tears came, so be it. At least out front, no one would bother her. The swing creaked as she pushed it back and forth, joining the night chorus of tree frogs, crickets, and toads. She extended her arm across the back of the swing and dropped her head, letting the sounds wash over her. She’d always enjoyed summer nights in the Flint Hills, the sounds soothed her, grounded her, and tonight was no different.
The front door creaked. She ignored it, still pushing the swing.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Colt offered quietly.
She’d give him props for persistence. “The night has me melancholy. I’m sorry.” She scooted over on the swing. “Join me?” She patted the empty spot next to her.
He sat down and stretched out his arm, silently inviting her to come close. And like a starved puppy, she’d take whatever crumbs he offered. She scooted over, curling into him, and laying her head on his chest, pulse slowing to sync with the heartbeat under her ear. This would be enough, it had to. It was the best she could expect from him, and right now, fool that she was, she’d take it without question. With a sigh, she shut her eyes, and let the motion of the swing lull her. She caught a whiff of his cologne, spicy and warm underneath his natural masculine scent. She counted to one-hundred squeaks from the hooks.
At one-hundred-thirty-two, he spoke. “Why don’t we take a drive? I know someplace quiet.”
She nodded against his chest, unable to speak. She could sense the tension coiled in his body, his muscles wound tight beneath her hand. This was it – time to lay their cards on the table.