Read Hers for the Holidays Online

Authors: Samantha Hunter

Tags: #Contemporary, #Romance, #Contemporary Romance

Hers for the Holidays (5 page)

BOOK: Hers for the Holidays
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Lydia turned to pull some pans out of a cupboard, and the movement drew his eyes to the curve of her backside, and as her shirt rode up, to the scroll of ink that was sketched across her lower back.

“You can take my—well, it was my mother’s—car if you need to. It’s all-wheel drive and should get around okay.”

“Thanks,” he said, turning away as she bent deep into a cupboard, her butt poking up in a very delectable way, making him think thoughts that he wasn’t supposed to be thinking.

After all, they were only friends. Repeating that to himself a couple of hundred times as he went to get Kyle, he hoped it would eventually sink in.

* * *

I
T
TURNED
OUT
THAT
Ely would have been stuck there whether Lydia had agreed to let him stay or not. They were well and truly snowed in from the storm the night before, and they hadn’t been able to get anywhere close to Ely’s truck. The highway plows had come by and pretty much buried it—they’d have to try again tomorrow, when the snow stopped. If the snow stopped.

Lydia kept herself from obsessing about Ely’s presence by making enough pancakes, sausage and home fries for an army. She couldn’t get his offer out of her mind—some frisky fun while they were stuck here together, no expectations, no strings attached.

Normally, she would have jumped at such an offer. So why wasn’t she? Ely was hot, and he was wonderful in bed. No doubt he could offer her some much-needed distraction from her other, less pleasant tasks. And if she was completely honest, it felt good to have him around, and that he knew about the stuff that had been going on.

She went back to cooking, hearing their footsteps on the porch. She walked back to open the door she had locked behind her. Lydia stood in the doorway for a moment, looking at a world turned completely white, as the men entered the kitchen.

“I’d forgotten what winter here is like,” she said to no one, but found Ely was right behind her. Of course he was, she thought with a sigh. She’d felt him watching her earlier, knew he was fascinated with her ink from the night they’d shared. “It really is like living in a snow globe.”

“We have our share of storms back east, but yeah. This is pretty amazing,” Ely said as he looked with her out at snow that piled over the porch rails, glittering everywhere.

“And it’s just the beginning of the season,” she added.

Then, catching a chill when the wind whipped toward them, she stepped back to close the door, bumping solidly into him.

His hands landed on her waist, steadying her. His thumb slid along the waist of her jeans, grazing her skin at the small of her back and she stilled. He stepped away without another word, but the heat that leaped between them from the simple touch seemed to brand her.

Neither Smitty nor Kyle had seemed to notice anything. As the men ate, Lydia dug out some of her father’s winter clothes for Ely, since the ones he’d worn that morning were soaked. Breakfast passed uneventfully, and they went back to work outside, while she stayed indoors and worked on clearing out some more of her mother’s things.

As the men talked over coffee during an afternoon break, Lydia slipped away upstairs to take a shower and change. She was exhausted, not having slept much the night before, and she closed her eyes under the hot water of the shower only to shriek a few seconds later as it suddenly turned ice cold.

She jumped again as the bathroom door burst open and Ely was there, looking fierce, facing her as she wrapped the shower curtain around herself.

“Ely! What are you doing? Get out!” she demanded, her teeth chattering.

“You screamed. What’s wrong?”

She closed her eyes, understanding why he would be in bodyguard mode after the events of the previous evening. She sighed, praying for patience.

“I didn’t scream, I yelled. In surprise. Cold water. The water heater must have broken.”

His body eased, the tension draining out of him as he realized she wasn’t in trouble, but his gaze didn’t leave her.

“I’ll let Smitty know,” he said distractedly, his eyes glued to her. The transparent plastic of the curtain wasn’t hiding much.

“Thanks,” she said, swallowing hard as she confronted the desire in his eyes.

“Um, could you hand me one of those towels?”

He blinked, as if breaking out of a trance, and grabbed a fluffy white towel from the counter, handing it to her. This time, when their fingers brushed, they both pulled back as if electricity sparked between them.

“You have to go,” Lydia said, fighting the wave of desire that had hit as soon as he walked through the door. She only wanted him to get undressed and join her. “The guys are going to wonder—”

“Ely? Everything okay up there?” Smitty’s shout interrupted them, yanking them out of their daze.

“Yeah, Smitty. Everything’s okay. Apparently the hot water heater broke,” Ely said, tearing his gaze away from hers and walking back out the door, closing it firmly behind him.

Lydia let go of the breath she was holding and wrapped the towel around herself, stepping out and sinking down to sit on the side of the tub.

Why did she have to feel this way about Tessa’s brother-in-law, for crying out loud?

The night they’d met, he’d told her about the woman who had dumped him, and about the life he’d thought they could have until he found out she wasn’t so perfect after all.

Chloe Roberts, an up-and-coming investigative reporter with a father who was highly placed in the U.S. Navy had been the woman to send Ely into a tailspin. And had shot him directly into Lydia’s path. Chloe was supermodel-gorgeous, smart, sophisticated and she’d had Ely wrapped around her little finger—except that she was also wearing an engagement ring on that finger—given to her by another man.

Ely hadn’t known, and he was crushed, not only by losing his dreams, but by unknowingly having slept with a woman who belonged to someone else. Lydia knew he never would have done that if he had known; Chloe had played him for a fool.

Lydia had taken him back to her place because she wanted to ease some of his pain. It wasn’t an instinct she’d often given in to, nor one she had very often; normally, sex was simply entertainment for her. But Ely had been different.

It made perfect sense that he’d used her to forget Chloe, at least for a night—Lydia was the exact opposite of the reporter. For the short while he’d been with her, she had made sure that he wouldn’t think about what he’d lost. Problem was, Lydia hadn’t been able to forget him.

Maybe she was thinking about this the wrong way. By avoiding sex, they were making it a bigger deal than it was. The sexual tension was driving them crazy. Lydia was friends with several of her former lovers, and she knew that desire always seemed to burn out naturally after a while, leaving friendship in its wake. Why wouldn’t it be the same with Ely?

Lydia was no Chloe Roberts, and she wasn’t thirteen anymore, either. But Ely wanted her, and why did it have to be so complicated? She had the things she wanted in life: her business, her friends. Those were the things that counted, and she was lucky to have them. There was a time in her life when she didn’t think she deserved even that much.

Making her way to her room, she took a breath and toweled off, trying to warm up as she dressed and checked out the window, finding Ely with Smitty, moving hay to the barn. Though he was bundled in the thick, wool coat of her father’s, she could see how strong he was just by the easy way he lifted the block of hay and the grace of his movements. As if the heavy bundles of hay weighed nothing.

He was like that in bed, too. Even when he was pushed to the limit, every muscle tensed in high relief as she brought him to the edge over and over, he was the most perfect man she’d ever seen. Certainly the most perfect man she’d ever been with.

It had been such a thrill to have such a powerful man give himself over that way and to watch the intense pleasure he experienced. With her.

Or had he been thinking of Chloe all along? Was Lydia that foolish? Frowning, she supposed it was possible. He had just broken up with the woman less than a day before. He admitted that he hadn’t been thinking straight at the time.

She shook her head in disgust, walking away from the window. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours and she was already trying to find ways to renege on their agreement. She recited to herself, again, all of the reasons this couldn’t happen. But in her heart, she would be amazed if either of them lasted the week.

5

L
ATER
THAT
AFTERNOON
,
when they had finally finished clearing the snow, Lydia couldn’t help but notice that Ely looked like he was having the best time of his life.

“I think I have time to get into town. Still mind if I borrow your keys?” he asked.

“Actually, would it be okay if I go into town with you? I need to pick up some supplies.”

“No problem. I’ll heat up the car.”

She handed him her keys and their fingers touched without them bursting into spontaneous flames. See, they could be friends, right? They just had to get through this awkward stage. The moment in the shower had just been...well, a moment.

It didn’t mean anything she didn’t want it to mean.

Once they got to town, they went their separate ways. And Lydia tried to focus on what she needed to buy for the ranch.

She walked to the small grocery store, figuring she would start there. But as she made her way down the aisles, feeling again like she was out of place, worried that she would bump into someone who would know her, she forgot the list in her hand and found herself staring at a display, lost in another one of the time warps she seemed to be suffering since she’d returned to Clear River. She even heard someone saying her name.

“Lydia Hamilton,” the guy said again, and she turned around slowly, grabbing one package of paper towels from the shelf and tossing them in the basket. She didn’t look up, facing him, though the second time he’d spoken, she recognized his voice.

“Loyal,” she said with a quick stretch of her mouth that didn’t quite approach a smile. “Long time.”

Loyal Slater. Football star, high-school hunk, and her first kiss in their freshman year of high school. His parents owned the ranch bordering her family’s land. That kiss had been the beginning and end of their relationship, since Loyal was anything but.

“We heard you went off and became a big-city girl,” he said. “Sorry about your mom, by the way.”

“Thanks,” she said with a nod, anxious to finish her shopping and leave.

She hated coming into town like this. The fewer people she ran into in the process, the better. Strolls down memory lane with old boyfriends were a case in point.

Loyal was all grown up and still as handsome as ever. He kept staring at her piercings like he hadn’t seen anything like them before, but she’d passed two tat shops in Billings, and knew that Montana wasn’t that removed from the ways of the world.

Still, her winter clothes covered the majority of her designs, which often drew attention even back in the city. Lydia considered it good advertising. When people asked her about her ink, she often talked them into visiting her shop, and she had found a lot of customers that way.

“Hey, listen, if you need any help with anything at the house, let us know,” Loyal offered. “Old times and all,” he added awkwardly as she stared at him, silent, unsure what to say.

“Thanks, but I’m good,” she settled on, starting to turn away.

“Merry Christmas, anyway,” he said.

“Yeah, uh, you, too,” she mumbled, anxious to get back to her list, but as she turned the corner of the aisle, Lydia felt as if she were caught in
A Christmas Carol,
facing the ghost of Christmas past.

“Ginny,” she said on a sharp intake of breath, facing the one person she had hoped to avoid.

“Lydia,” the woman in the wheelchair, facing her in front of the display of Christmas candy, said, looking apprehensive and just as surprised as Lydia was.

“I heard you were back,” Ginny said.

Lydia felt as if her throat was closing, and all she wanted to do was throw her basket and run, but she managed to nod.

“I need to take care of Mom’s place,” she said stiffly, looking away, her eyes landing on the Christmas candy but not really seeing it.

“You’re selling?”

“Um, yeah,” she said, looking back at the rubber tires of the chair, and Ginny’s pink boots, planted on the foot holders. Ginny had always loved everything pink. Lydia had once, too.

“I, um,” Lydia stuttered, looking for words, and saw the ice slide over her former friend’s gaze as someone else walked up to join them. A man unloaded some things into a cart, and shifted to face Ginny with a smile.

“I think that’s it, darlin’,” he said affectionately, and then turned a smile in Lydia’s direction. “Hi, there.”

Lydia nodded, taking in the guy’s handsome face, and his business-casual dress. A wool coat, nice leather boots. A businessman, not a ranch worker.

“And you are?” he asked.

“This is Lydia Hamilton, my best friend from high school,” Ginny said bitterly, her eyes pinning Lydia to the spot. “Lydia, this is my husband, Charles.”

Husband. Lydia had known that, her mother had told her that Ginny had gotten married somewhere along the line. But she remained speechless.

“Why are you bothering my wife?” her husband asked, his smile fading. “Why are you even here? You leave us alone,” he warned darkly, sending Lydia another look as he put a hand on Ginny’s shoulder.

Lydia opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. She met Ginny’s eyes, wishing there was something that could be said, but clearly her friend didn’t want to hear any of it, and Lydia couldn’t blame her. The resentment and accusation in her eyes and tone were all that Lydia could expect.

“Take care of yourself, Lydia. It is what you do best,” Ginny said coldly, spinning her chair and following her husband to the register.

Lydia’s knees were shaking, and it was all she could do to stand up. Abandoning her basket of items, she made her way to the door and out, needing air. Needing to escape.

Her mother had told her she should confront her past. That Ginny had moved on with her life—which was clear—and that Lydia needed to make peace with it, too. But that was clearly impossible.

Lydia knew her mother was wrong; she didn’t expect forgiveness. It wasn’t even possible. She deserved their rebuff, and worse. She had been wrong to avoid them, however. Maybe allowing them to say what they’d said was only fair. She’d never given Ginny that chance before.

Everyone thought Lydia was so cool, so brave. She was the most cowardly person she knew, she thought miserably. Leaning into the car, her face fell into her hands, the cold air helping her to settle down a bit.

“Hey, what’s going on—are you okay?”

Lydia jumped at the sound of Ely’s voice. In her shock and upset, she had completely forgotten about him.

“Um, I just have a really bad headache,” she said.

“You’re white as a sheet. Get in the car,” he said, opening the door and ushering her in before he went around to the other side to climb in. He turned the heat on full blast and took her freezing hands between his, warming him.

“Are you sick? Or did something else happen?” he asked, his gaze severe and concerned all at once.

Lydia couldn’t talk about it, least of all with him. What would Ely think, or Tessa, or anyone, if they knew what she’d done? Maybe they deserved to know, too, but she couldn’t do it. Not now.

“The headache just got to me. That’s all,” she hedged, and could see in his face that he wasn’t buying it, but he nodded.

“Okay. Did you get your groceries?”

“No.” Her eyes burned and she cursed, not wanting to cry in front of anyone, especially Ely. Biting down, she swallowed hard, and took a breath, straightening her spine. Looking up, she watched as Ginny and her husband left the store and made their way to their truck.

“This store didn’t have what we needed,” she fibbed. “Maybe if we try the one in Billings? They have the larger places to shop.”

Ely nodded. “Sure. We can do that, but are you sure you feel well enough?”

“I’m fine. Really. Just tired, and a headache, but I’ll be okay. Let’s go?” she said, anxious to escape.

Nodding, he put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb. Lydia focused out the window, getting a hold on herself, trying to focus away from the nauseous feeling that hadn’t quite passed. She was running away again, and she knew it. But what did confronting anything do—it just made everyone unhappy.

She would see Ginny’s unhappy face in front of her for the rest of her life, and maybe that was as it should be. The only solution was to wrap things up here and leave as soon as she could, after Christmas, as her mother’s will provided. Then she could go back home and try to bury it all in the past, for good.

* * *

E
LY
WAS
ABLE
TO
get his truck out of the snowbank the next day, and was in the sheriff’s office, waiting to see the man himself. It was the one thing he was unable to do the day before when Lydia had come into town with him, though he still hadn’t been able to get that out of his mind.

On the way to the city and back, she had been quiet, pale, and not entirely like herself. He knew it was more than a simple headache that had set her off. When he’d found her by the car, she had been shattered—he had actually been afraid for her until she seemed to calm down.

She didn’t say another word about it during their entire drive and had gone to bed after they finished putting away the supplies. Ely had a feeling she had a scare of some sort, and he wasn’t going to just sit by and do nothing.

A group of sullen teenage boys slouched on the bench in the corner, looking like they didn’t care about anything, but their clenched fingers, tapping feet and sidelong glances betrayed their worry. Ely caught the eye of one who looked like the youngest of the four and leaned forward.

“What ya in for?” he said with a conspiratorial wink.

The kid started to say something when the older boy next to him elbowed him in the ribs.

“Shut up, doofus. He’s trying to get you to confess.”

Ely’s eyebrows rose. “Confess? Nah, I’m just making conversation,” he said.

The older boy snorted in disbelief, crossing his arms over his middle.

“But if I had to guess,” Ely continued. “I’d say you were caught—during school hours—smoking something down behind someone’s barn, yeah?” They reeked of pot, whether they realized it or not.

“We weren’t behind a barn, we were—”

Another elbow to the ribs got the two boys into a small scuffle, and Ely had to hide a smile. They thought they were so tough.

The door to Sheriff Granger’s office opened, and he emerged, walking over to the boys. They didn’t quite meet his eyes as he towered over them, a big man, not too much older than Ely.

“I just got off the phone with each of your parents. They’ll be down to get you soon, and in exchange for not charging you and locking you up for the weekend, they agreed that you all should spend the next week cleaning out Mr. Mason’s barn.”

All four heads snapped up. “Are you kidding?” the older one said. “That place is a dump. It’ll take forever.”

“That’s right. Added to that, you’ll be in school, and I’ll be making spot phone calls to make sure you are. If any of you do this again, you won’t get a second chance, got it? I’ll put you in the tank, and if we don’t have room for you here, since it can get a little crowded over Christmas, we’ll send you over to Powell, you got it?”

“You can’t do that,” the belligerent older boy asserted, standing. “We’re minors, and it was just some weed,” he said, and then frowned as he realized what he’d just confessed aloud.

“Good going, Rog,” the kid next to him taunted.

The sheriff leaned in close. “You want to make a bet on what I can do, Roger? Push your luck, and you’ll see how far I’m willing to go to make sure you aren’t bringing that kind of trouble into this town, to these kids,” the sheriff said in his best Dirty Harry–type voice, which Ely thought he pulled off pretty well.

The boy sneered, but backed down, sitting back on the bench.

“Yeah, shut up, Rog, before you get us into more trouble,” the younger one said, earning a punch in the arm.

“Cut it out,” Sheriff Granger barked, and the boys went quiet and still. “You’ll report to Mr. Mason directly after school. I’ll have a deputy stop by and make sure you’re there. Your parents will pick you up when you’re done and bring you home. Got it? You won’t be finished with the job until I go to inspect that barn and say you’re done.”

The boys nodded glumly.

“Think about it the next time you decide to skip school to do something illegal,” the sheriff said. He proceeded to tell the receptionist something and then turned to Ely.

“Can I help you? Stella says you’ve been waiting to see me?”

Ely stood, put his hand out. “I’d appreciate a few minutes, if you have the time.”

“Sure. Now that I’ve got the Wild Bunch here all settled,” he said, sliding a look at the boys again as he led Ely into his office.

“My brothers and I got into trouble quite a bit at about that age, too. Never drugs, but other stuff we were too stupid to avoid. Compared to what our father made us do, those guys got off easy.”

Sheriff Granger laughed. “I don’t know about that. Hank Mason is kind of the town eccentric—one of those TV shows might call him a hoarder of sorts. That barn is a fire hazard. Hank finally agreed to have it cleaned out, so this works out well on all sides. I don’t even want to think about the crap those kids are going to have to dig through,” the sheriff said with a grin. “I should probably get them hazmat suits.”

Ely laughed. “I bet they’ll learn their lesson, then.”

“The young ones, yeah. The older one, Roger, he’s had some problems since his parents split up. He’s heading down a bad path, and we’re just trying to keep him from taking his younger friends down with him.”

Ely nodded. “Nice thing about a town like this is that you can give them that kind of attention.”

There were so many kids in the city that went unnoticed, and ended up lost for good. Jonas had been a cop for several years, and some of the stories he told from those days painted a sad, dark picture of the inner city.

“Don’t kid yourself. We try, but the problems get more serious here all the time. Meth labs, illegals, domestic violence. It’s a small town, but we have the same challenges some of the cities have, and fewer people to cover them. Anyway...you are?”

BOOK: Hers for the Holidays
7.26Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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