A Winter Wedding (Whiskey Creek)

by Brenda Novak

  Then he saw the note on the table. He’d just set down the wine he’d brought home and was reaching for it when she said, “Your ex stopped by.”

  “My ex?” he said. “Why?”

  Lourdes shrugged. “According to what she wrote on that note, she feels she owes you something.”

  He turned to face her. “You read what she wrote?”

  She looked at him with a sheepish expression. “She’s an interesting person. Definitely aroused my curiosity.”

  “She’s obsessive. I can’t escape her.”

  “You’re saying you have a small-town stalker?”

  “It’s beginning to feel that way.”

  “Then you might want to get your house key from her.”

  Kyle frowned. “What are you talking about? She doesn’t have a key to my house.”

  “She let herself in somehow,” Lourdes said. “I was in my bedroom when I heard her out here, arranging all this stuff.”

  Anger shot through him like a bullet. “Are you kidding me?”

  “No. She asked me to say that I let her in, but I owe you more loyalty than I do her.”

  “Where could she have gotten a key?” He said this more to himself than he did her. He was searching his memory for any time he might’ve given Noelle one, but he couldn’t recall even speaking with her about it.

  “She lived here when you were married, didn’t she?” Lourdes said. “You gave me that impression when we were talking the other night.”

  “It was a different house, but...I kept all the spare keys in a drawer.”

  “She must’ve helped herself.”

  “I should’ve had the locks changed on everything. But her uncle’s the locksmith in town. I didn’t want her family to think I was suggesting she was dangerous. She was already upset that I’d made her sign a prenup before we got married, and she didn’t get half my assets. I was trying to keep the breakup as amicable as I could. So I just insisted she return the key for the house we lived in together.”

  “She probably had a copy made of that one, too.”

  He wouldn’t put it past her. And yet he’d thought she was as eager to get rid of him as he was her. They’d fought so much during their short marriage; she’d called him names he wouldn’t have called his worst enemy. But considering how she’d behaved since, as if she was hoping to reconcile, maybe she had hung on to various keys.

  How many times had she let herself into his house and gone through his things?

  He hated to contemplate the answer to that question. “I’m changing the locks.”

  “That should solve the problem.” She frowned at the dinner table. “Thank goodness there’ll be no more meals appearing out of nowhere!”

  He could tell she was being facetious. But when he looked more closely, he noticed the blush on her cheeks and the glassiness of her eyes and decided she was also a little drunk. “Did you break into the wine?”

  “I didn’t think you’d mind, since you promised to bring more. It helps to focus on something other than my own misery.”

  “Like alcohol? What happened after I left? Did you hear from Derrick?”

  Tears filled her eyes as she shook her head.

  “It’s his loss, Lourdes.”

  She blinked quickly. “Right. That’s what I’m supposed to tell myself.”

  “In this case, I’m convinced it’s true. You seem like a really nice person.”

  “So do you. You obviously are a nice person—taking me in.”

  “Don’t give me too much credit. I was supposed to have that rental ready for occupancy, wasn’t I?”

  She cleared her throat, somehow managing to avert her tears. “You tried. But...tell me this. Do you wish I wasn’t here?”

  He remembered how hard he’d searched for a contractor to get the heating unit fixed so she could leave. But it wasn’t because she was bothering him. “Not at all,” he said.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Positive.” He rested his hands on the back of a kitchen chair. “Did Noelle recognize you when she saw you?”

  “Not at first. Eventually.”

  “I bet she flipped out.”

  “She said she couldn’t wait to tell everyone at work. I guess she’s a server at some honky-tonk where they play my music?”

  “Sexy Sadie’s.”

  “I asked her not to mention my being in town to anyone.”

  “That won’t change anything. I hate to say this, but you should brace yourself. She’ll spread the news all over town.”

  Lourdes covered her face, rubbed her eyes and then dropped her hands. “Just what I need. Everyone wants to be gawked at when they’re at their most vulnerable.”

  “I won’t let that happen,” he said. “You’ll be fine as long as you’re here.”

  “And when I move back to the farmhouse?”

  There wasn’t much he’d be able to do then. He’d be her neighbor, but he wouldn’t be next door. “We’ll figure something out.”

  Lourdes jerked her head toward the note he’d tossed aside. “What’d you do to help Noelle?”

  “Gave her a used water heater.”

  “That’s romantic.”

  He grinned at her sarcasm. “It wasn’t meant to be.”

  “So she believes what she wants to believe.”

  “She looks for any reason to bug me. And this has been going on since the divorce. She’ll make a concerted effort, I won’t respond, and she’ll give up. Until she decides to try again. Sometimes I’ll catch a break when she starts seeing someone else. But when the relationship fails—and they always do—she gets lonely, and the next thing I know, she’s set her sights on me all over again.”

  “Because there’s no one else in your life,” Lourdes pointed out. “She doesn’t see why it can’t be her, especially since it was before.”

  He shrugged. “There’s not much I can do about that.”

  “Maybe not. But you could quit giving her things, even water heaters, if you really want her to leave you alone.”

  “Trust me, I’ve tried. She drives me so crazy, I finally give in just to get rid of her.”

  “This isn’t an accusation—and I’m not digging for information—but...if you’re still sleeping with her, you may never get rid of her.”

  He stood up straight. “I’m not sleeping with her!”

  “Well, she’s offering.” She gestured at the food. “That’s what this means.”

  “I’m not interested.”

  “How long has it been?”

  “Since we slept together?”

  She nodded.

  “Before the divorce.”

  “Has there been anyone since—for you?”

  He nearly laughed. “Are you asking me the last time I’ve had sex?”

  She waved a hand. “Sorry. You don’t have to answer that. My curiosity’s getting the better of me again.”

  Curiosity and too much alcohol. But Lourdes didn’t live in Whiskey Creek and wouldn’t be staying long—certainly not long enough to encounter many people in town. So he didn’t have to be guarded with her. “A little over three years,” he said.

  She rubbed her palms on her sweats. “Wow. It’s only been a month for me, and even that feels like forever.”

  “You haven’t been with Derrick in a month?”

  “We’ve been having problems. What’s your excuse?”

  “I live in a small town. That doesn’t present a lot of sexual options, if you know what I mean. Out here, a relationship has to be serious before it gets...serious.”

  “And there’s that old flame who’s standing in the way. What’s her name?”

  He wished he’d never mentioned Olivia. Maybe if he stopped acknowledging how he felt
about her—even to himself—he’d stop missing her, wanting her. “There’s no one else.”

  “I’m talking about the one who’s married to your stepbrother,” she said.

  “I know. Let’s forget about her.”

  “Sure. No problem. And I understand what you’re saying about options. I come from a small town, too, remember? Angel’s Camp isn’t all that different from Whiskey Creek. But three years...” She whistled. “Go to a bigger place every once in a while, why don’t you?”

  “Maybe if I were in my twenties, I would. At thirty-eight? Don’t you think going out just to get laid would be a little...shallow?”

  “Yeah. Don’t listen to me,” she said. “I’m drunk.”

  “Precisely why I’m not taking anything you say to heart. Besides, it’s not only because of Olivia that I don’t do more about that area of my life. I don’t like putting myself in uncomfortable situations.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Sex makes you uncomfortable? I wouldn’t have guessed that.”

  He rolled his eyes. “No. It’s expectations that make me uncomfortable, and nothing creates expectations like sex. The last girl I was with—in that way—”

  “Three years ago,” she broke in.

  “Yes. We’ve established that.”

  She shook her head. “It’s just hard to believe.”

  He ignored that. “Anyway, this woman tattooed my name on her arm after we’d been seeing each other for only two weeks.”

  “You must be good,” she said with a laugh.

  “She couldn’t have been all there.”

  Lourdes made a clicking sound with her tongue. “You seem to bring out the crazy in a woman.”

  “Fortunately there’s no danger of bringing out the crazy in you.”

  “True.” She grimaced. “Derrick’s already done that.”

  Although he wasn’t pleased that Noelle had gone inside his house when he wasn’t home, he was hungry, and the food smelled good...

  “There’s lemon chicken in the oven,” Lourdes said when she noticed that his attention had shifted to the food.

  “I love lemon chicken.”

  “She made all your favorites.”

  That softened the blow of knowing she had access to his house, as it was probably intended to do, since Noelle hadn’t gone to any great pains to hide it. How would she have explained being able to get the food inside had Lourdes not been staying with him?

  She’d say he’d forgotten to lock the door, which he occasionally did, since he worked close by and there was so little crime in the area. “I should package this up and drop it off at her place,” he said. “Eating it will only encourage her to do this again.”

  “But it saves you from cooking, doesn’t it? And maybe she’ll just think you’re even. You helped her, and she repaid you.”

  “That’s a positive way to look at it.”

  “We shouldn’t let this go to waste.”

  She was hungry—and so was he. “You have a point,” he said. “I rarely get any home cooking these days.” And he got even less now that he was avoiding Sunday dinners with his family. “Should we dive in?”

  She rounded the table and pulled out a chair. “I was afraid you’d never ask.”

  He chuckled. “You read a private note and nearly polished off the wine, but you didn’t feel you could eat without me?”

  “I didn’t want to go too far,” she said with an impish grin.

  She was cute in spite of her dishevelment. Derrick had to be a fool, Kyle thought as he got the lemon chicken out of the oven. Lourdes had said Derrick was forty. What could twenty-three-year-old Crystal possibly have to say that he’d find interesting?

  “Do you have any plans tonight?” she asked.

  He’d hoped to go out and do something, even if he had to do it alone. He hesitated to spend too much time with Lourdes. But she didn’t seem to be in the best shape...

  “No, I’ll stay here and drink with you.”

  “Great,” she said. “Pour me another glass.”

  * * *

  By ten, they were both drunk. And laughing. Kyle wasn’t sure why everything seemed to be so funny, but he hadn’t let go like this in ages. They challenged each other to card games like Speed and War. They played beer pong. They even competed in feats of strength, including arm wrestling, which she’d insisted, for some strange reason, that she could win, which was laughable, since she couldn’t even put up much of a fight. Kyle couldn’t remember when, exactly, they’d put on a movie, but when he woke up, it was almost three in the morning, they were lying on the floor with a pillow and a blanket—and Lourdes was asleep on his shoulder.

  He felt a jolt of panic when he found her in his arms—until he realized they were still dressed.

  “Hey,” Kyle said, waking her. “It’s late. We’d better get to bed.”

  When she looked up at him, he felt an unexpected tenderness. For someone so famous, she wasn’t remotely arrogant. And, even though her hair was a mess and he hadn’t seen her in anything more stylish than her baggy sweats, he found her no less attractive than when she’d gotten out of her rental car that first day.

  “What’d you say?” she murmured, still half-asleep.

  “I said we’d better get into our beds.”

  She lifted her head to look at the TV, which was playing an infomercial on some diet drug. “Did Derrick call?”

  “I don’t know,” Kyle replied. “I don’t think you’ve checked your phone.”

  “Well, that’s saying something,” she said. “I can probably make it through the next few months—when our breakup hits the tabloids and pictures of him and Crystal begin to show up—if I continue to soak my brain in alcohol.”

  He assumed she was joking. “I doubt that’s the direction you want to go.”

  “What are the drawbacks again?”

  Now he knew she was joking, but he answered as though she’d asked a serious question. “You’re planning to write an album. Being drunk would interfere with that. Besides, there’d be no sweeter revenge than reclaiming your success—without him.”

  This elicited a thoughtful expression. “True. I’d love nothing more. But losing him will make my comeback that much harder. I’ll have to find a new manager, and it’s easier to find a new manager when you’re on the rise. No one who’s any good will be excited about taking me on at this point.”

  “Never assume rejection. Anyway, it’s the weekend. Use the next two days to get back on your feet, then make some calls on Monday.”

  She pulled her phone from her pocket and squinted at it. “He hasn’t tried to contact me. I can’t believe it.”

  Kyle couldn’t believe she hadn’t moved out of reach. They were cuddled up as if...as if they knew each other a lot better than they did. “Maybe he’s taking some time to make a decision.”

  “If he has to think that hard about whether or not he wants me, I don’t want him.”

  He smoothed her hair off her face. “You don’t need him.”

  She didn’t respond. He almost said they should turn in for the night, but he’d made that suggestion once, and she hadn’t acted on it. He got the feeling she needed to be held.

  “Why couldn’t I have fallen for a nice guy like you?” she asked.

  He felt his groin tighten. The way she was staring at him, it was almost as though she was asking him to kiss her. But he had to be wrong about that. Even if he was right, he knew it would make their situation awkward tomorrow. “Because you’d never be happy in a small town like this,” he replied. “You’re meant for bigger things.”

  “The next year will be lonely...”

  Was she hoping he could change that? He could feel the sudden tension between them, knew what it meant. And the skin on her neck tempted him. “But yo
ur heart will heal eventually,” he said. “And you’ll meet someone else.”

  “You mean I’ll get over him like you’ve gotten over Olivia?”

  She had him there.

  “Are you even dating?” she asked.

  “I go out every now and then.”

  “You can’t be dating often if you haven’t slept with anyone in three years.”

  “I haven’t met the right woman.”

  “Maybe you need to look for her.” She grinned. “Have you ever thought of that?”

  At the moment he couldn’t think of anything except the attraction he felt to her. “I’ve been busy.”

  “That’s an excuse. Not a reason.”

  He couldn’t fault her logic. So he said nothing, and they continued to stare at each other, almost as if they were held in suspended animation.

  “Never mind,” she said at length, turning away. “I don’t want to give you a hard time. It’s wonderful to have found a friend here. I thought I wanted to be alone to work, but now I realize just how terrible being alone would be at this stage of my life. So thank you.”

  A friend here... Was she trying to tell him something? That what her body wanted and what her head wanted were two different things? He didn’t plan to take advantage of the conflict, would hate to make her situation any worse. “It’s not as if you’re hard to put up with.”

  She pulled far enough away to lean on one elbow. “I’m going to do you a favor,” she announced.

  His hands now free, he covered a yawn. “What’s that?”

  “Before I leave, I’m going to find you the perfect woman. I’ll make sure you forget about Olivia.”

  Since nothing he’d tried had worked, he wasn’t convinced it was possible. “Knock yourself out,” he said. But he had no idea where that simple exchange would lead—until the following morning.

  8

  “Can I get a good picture of you?”

  Kyle was surprised to find Lourdes already up and in the kitchen. They hadn’t gotten much sleep, and it was barely ten. He could’ve understood why she might not have been able to sleep if she’d been crying again. But he saw no evidence of that. She looked...better. She’d even showered and was wearing a pale blue sweat suit that fit far more snugly than the less-appealing sweats of before.