times. But it was the worst of times now, and he was halfway to wasted. That combination made it something else entirely.
âDo you feel sorry for me?â he asked.
âWell, kind of. But really, only a cold-hearted jerk wouldnât.â
âFeel guilty for anything?â
âWhat?â she asked.
âDid you have any idea she was going to do this?â
âNo,â Lydia said. âShe never said anything to me. And I had absolutely no idea she was going to stand you up.â
âYou sound upset.â
âI am. No one deserves that. I know that we donâtââ She took a deep breath. âI know that we havenât always seen eye to eye. Or ever seen eye to eye. But that doesnât mean I thought she should leave you like that.â
âAnd thatâs why you told me to ditch the reception? Why you came out after me? Out of...all of the people at the wedding, youâre the one who came?â
âI couldnât stop thinking about how bad you must feel.â The words made his stomach bottom out. She frowned. âDo not let that go to your head. I also canât stop thinking about those ASPCA commercials with sad dogs.â
âSo this is all because of your overdeveloped sense of pity?â
She tucked her hair behind her ear, her shoulder brushing his, sending an unwelcome bolt of lightning straight through him. âMostly, I just think people shouldnât be left alone when theyâre sad.â
âIf you expect me to cry youâre going to be sadly disappointed. I intend to get hammered.â He picked up the shot glass in front of him and held it out toward her. âIf you want to join me in that, youâre welcome to.â
She hesitated. He expected her to get that pinched look on her face. To lecture him.
Instead, she reached out, grabbing hold of the shot glass. Her fingers brushed his, and he felt that all the way down to his dick.
Then she put the glass to her lips, her tongue touching the rim. He felt that, too.
She tilted it back, taking a long swallow, gasping when she set it back down on the counter. âAll right,â she said. âLetâs do it.â
He was supposed to be a married man tonight. Committed and firmly arrived at the place his straight-and-narrow path had been leading him.
But his intended bride hadnât showed up.
Suddenly all of the tension heâd felt from the first time heâd met Lydia Carpenter exploded inside of him. He wanted her fingers on him. Wanted her tongue on him.
Tonight was supposed to be the finish line. But it hadnât been.
Now he wanted to make it something else entirely.
That was when the memory got fuzzy. His night to remember, his night of rebellion, had turned into a completely forgotten night with far-reaching consequences.
That figured.
âBack to the topic at hand,â she said, her tone authoritarian, arch, as though she had been reading his thoughts, âwhy exactly do you need me to join you for lunch with your mother?â
âBecause. Iâm not going to tell her that we got married over the phone. And I need to tell her before it makes it back to her through the rumor mill. Because it will.â
âAll right. Though Iâm not sure how it hasnât already.â
âIâm not, either. Mainly, I imagine itâs because she hasnât left the house in a few days. Itâs possible my dad knows, but even if he does, he might not have gotten around to telling her. I donât think they talk much.â
âHad I known that this was how the West family conducted their marriages I might have gotten on board with this sooner. It sounds exactly like the kind of marriage the two of us could have. Never speaking. Never touching.â
Touching . That word pushed to the back of his mind. Ruffled the gauzy veil that had been drawn over the night they had spent in Las Vegas.
He could feel it. Thatâs how
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