Tough Luck Hero by Maisey Yates Page A

strong it was. Could feel delicate fingertips wrapping around him. It hit him hard, left him breathless.
    â€œNot never,” he said, his voice sounding rough to his own ears.
    â€œAre you going to be a lecherous tool bag when we have lunch with your mother?”
    â€œIf she takes enough pills before we order she won’t notice if I am.” He nearly winced at his own words. He was just being an ass now.
    Lydia frowned. “I’ve met your mother at different fund-raising luncheons. She seems...nice.”
    â€œI’m not sure that’s the word I would use. But I love my mother. She’s been through enough. And yeah, it’s easy for me to make dry comments about how she does and doesn’t cope, but the truth is it worries me.”
    â€œI’m sure finding out that your father had an illegitimate child with someone was hard on her.”
    He leaned back, closing his eyes and resting his head on the back of the couch. “That was just the latest hard thing.”
    â€œOh.”
    â€œI have a brother.” He opened his eyes again, just so he could get a look at her expression.
    â€œOh,” she said, her hands clasped in front of her, twitching nervously. “I didn’t know that.”
    â€œI figured you didn’t. Most people do, since they’ve lived here their whole lives. You’re that rare outsider.”
    That made her frown. “I’m not an outsider.”
    Yet again, he’d managed to divert her right when he’d cut open a vein of ancient West history. And again, he was going to go with it rather than continuing to talk about family stuff. “You aren’t really a local.”
    Color flooded her cheeks, except this time, it was angry. “This is my home. I have lived here for the past eight years. And I damn sure am a local, Colton West. I’m running for mayor. I don’t think you can be more...Copper Ridgian than that.”
    â€œThat doesn’t make you a local. Being a local makes you a local.”
    â€œWhy are you so invested in this?”
    â€œWhy are you ?”
    She frowned. “That isn’t your business. We might be sharing space, but we don’t have to share secrets and braid each other’s hair.”
    â€œThe only kind of slumber party we’re going to have is a repeat performance of our wedding night, Lydia, so I would be careful what you suggest.”
    The moment the words left his lips, he regretted them. He had no intention of ever touching her again. He just wanted to get a rise out of her.
    â€œI would be careful what you said, Colton,” she returned, her words clipped. “Unless of course you want to get punched in the face.”
    â€œAre you resorting to playground tactics? Are you going to steal my jacket and make me chase you to get it back next?” He pushed up from the couch, taking a step toward her. “All to get me to pay attention to you?”
    â€œPlease,” she said, the word coming out a disbelieving laugh. “I do not want you to chase me.”
    â€œFine. Lunch. Tomorrow. Don’t make me chase you.”
    Those eyes, brown, shot through with gold, glistening like whiskey in a shot glass, gazed straight into him as though they were wishing him a swift and painful death. “Fine,” she parroted him, her tone so crystal he thought it might cut him. “I’ll see you then. Beaches. Noon.”
    â€œYou’ll probably see me before then.”
    â€œI’m tired. I’m probably going to go to bed.”
    â€œIt’s eight o’clock.”
    She crossed her arms, straightening her posture. “So I may not have demonstrated this over the course of the past few days, but I am actually a very responsible person. Early to bed. Early to rise.”
    â€œI think I might have heard my grandmother say that once.”
    â€œShe was a wise woman. Good night.”
    And Lydia turned on her heel and walked out of the