said, standing as he did. “If this is a hostage situation, blink twice.”
“It is not a hostage situation. And that wasn’t serious.”
“Really seriously now. You aren’t having a crisis, are you?”
“I know what it’s like,” Sierra said, rising slowly and unsteadily. “That feeling of just being...lost. This—” she pointed to her stomach “—this is where that ends.”
His entire face felt like it had been pushed into a barrel of bees. “This is different. Lydia is a completely sensible choice.”
“And is that all marriage is to you? A sensible choice?” Sierra asked.
“Why else would you get married?”
Sierra practically flailed. “Love?”
“Not you,” he said, looking at Sierra, then to Maddy. “You. Why else would you get married?”
“I wouldn’t. So you’re on your own here.”
“But if you did...”
“Obviously it would be for money,” Maddy replied. “And a big penis.”
Sierra snorted. “Nice.”
“Thanks for that,” he said.
“If you can’t stand the heat, don’t come into my kitchen,” Maddy said. “Or something.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Look, I’m going to make time to come by and see Mom. Until then, don’t tell her anything.”
“Don’t you think the news is going to make it through the gossip chain?” asked Sierra.
“The odds are high. But you said Mom was catatonic, so I’m assuming she’s avoiding the garden club at the moment.”
“She’s avoiding anything that isn’t prescribed by her doctor at the moment,” said Maddy.
“That will probably buy me some time. Until I get a chance to sit down with her. And figure out how to spin this in a way that isn’t going to cause even more trouble.”
“And until then?” Maddy tilted her head to the side, her golden-brown ponytail swinging with the motion.
“Until then...I have to deal with my wife.”
* * *
LYDIA HAD JUST hung her purse on the peg in her office at the Chamber when Sadie Garrett burst through the door.
“So. I’m going to need to hear this entire story from the beginning, with no detail spared.” She plopped down into the seat across from Lydia’s desk, her blue eyes a little too keen for Lydia’s liking.
“Good morning to you, too,” Lydia said.
“The greeting was implied.”
“We couldn’t have done this over the phone?”
Over the past year and a half she and Sadie had become fairly close, which was surprising considering they had started out as romantic rivals. Okay, they hadn’t really been romantic rivals. That implied that Lydia had ever had a fighting chance with Sadie’s gorgeous sheriff.
All she’d ever done was pine. Without any subtlety. But she didn’t want to remember that whole chapter of her life.
She was happy with the way things had turned out. She needed a friend more than she needed a boyfriend.
“No,” Sadie said, her voice getting shrill. “We cannot discuss your hasty Vegas marriage over the phone.”
“It’s way too early in the morning to discuss my hasty Vegas marriage.”
“That’s why I brought coffee.” Sadie smiled broadly, pushing a large white cup halfway across Lydia’s desk. “It’s a peppermint mocha. Full fat. The good stuff.”
“With whipped cream?”
“I’m not an animal. There is both whipped cream and little candy cane pieces.”
Lydia sat down grudgingly, pulling the cup toward herself, curling her fingers around it. It was warm, and she hadn’t realized she was cold until the heat from the cup began to seep into her skin.
She lifted the cup to her lips, the minty sweetness exploding on her tongue. “Okay,” she said, swallowing her first sip, “you have earned details.”
“Excellent. When I say details I mean...below the belt details. Details about the interior of his pants.”
Lydia winced. “Sorry. I don’t have those.”
Sadie frowned. “What?” She tilted her head to the side. “Is this one of those moments where you tell me you’re too much of a lady to do this kind of back-and-forth? Because it occurs to me that we haven’t ever talked sexual details.”
Mostly because Lydia had not had any sexual details to share with Sadie over the time they’d been friends. But she didn’t want to admit that.
“No. I’m not too much of a lady. It’s just...in order to get married in Vegas I had to get blackout drunk. Which means...”
“You don’t remember.”
“No. I don’t remember. I don’t remember anything. I don’t even know what I was thinking. I don’t like Colton. I think he’s an arrogant son of a bitch.”
“Well, that’s because he always is to you.”
“I know!” Lydia took another sip of coffee. “But...when I was standing up there with all of the other bridesmaids, and the groomsmen, and there he was... I did feel bad for him. And...what was Natalie thinking? It was her wedding, for heaven’s sake. Everyone was there. The entire town. And she just...left him there.”
“I get pity sex, Lydia. Trust me, a guy in his position really needed some, but a pity marriage I get less.”
“It just started as pity shots. We went to Ace’s and started drinking. And one thing led to another.”
Sadie held up a hand. “Again, when most people say that, they mean they went back to his place and had sex. You two went to Vegas and got married.”
“I guess that’s what happens when the person you end up taking shots with is stupid rich.”
Sadie’s eyes went round. “Oh, that’s right. He is. I bet you he didn’t sign a prenup before this quickie marriage.”
“I don’t want his money. I don’t need his money. I earn my own. I don’t want to owe anyone anything, least of all Colton West. But I still kind of have to stay married to him.”
“Why?”
Lydia let out an exasperated sigh. “You can’t tell anybody. Because Colton is busily telling his family that this is the secret love match of the century.”
Sadie laughed, allowing a crack of sound in the small space. “And they’re going to believe that?”
“He seems to think so. But I know that you won’t believe it. You know too much.”
“I do. I’m extremely perceptive.”
“Not really so much that as I’ve told you a little too much about my feelings for Colton.”
“Fair enough. But you have to stay married to him... Why?”
“My campaign,” she said, tightening her hold on her cup. “Can you imagine? Lydia Carpenter goes to Las Vegas for a drunk quickie marriage, divorced already! It would be in the Copper Ridge Daily Tidings, and you know it.”
“Was that supposed to be the headline? Because that isn’t a good headline. It would have to be like Mayoral Candidate’s Marriage Didn’t Stay in Vegas!”
“Okay, that’s a cliché.”