One Hundred Promises

by Kelly Collins

  Stripped down, he entered the shower and let the jets work their magic on his tense muscles while his good hand worked out the strain between his legs. He closed his eyes and his imagination conjured up the perfect woman. The only problem was she looked a hell of a lot like Lydia. Only this girl’s eyes smiled when she did. Wes decided on his new mission. If he could turn an old house into a masterpiece, why couldn’t he make a miserable woman happy?

  Standing in front of the mirror with only a towel wrapped around his waist, he heard a light tap coming from her door.

  “Are you decent?”

  He looked down at the towel. “Depends on what you’d call decent, but you can come in. I’m not showing anything you haven’t seen already.”

  The door opened slowly. Lydia entered the bathroom wearing a short flowery skirt and a white shirt that covered nothing but her boobs. On her feet was a pair of sandals.

  “Hell, I’m wearing more than you.” Wes took her in. He didn’t think it was possible for her to be any sexier than she was in her nightshirt and boxer shorts. Shorts he hoped didn’t belong to that asshole Adam. Standing in front of him was Lydia the woman, and she put Lydia the doctor to shame.

  “Too much?”

  “You want to wear less?” The twitch between his legs made him press his body against the cold edge of the sink. The last thing he needed was to embarrass himself further by standing in front of her like a teenage boy after seeing his first girly magazine.

  “I mean, is this not appropriate?”

  The uncertainty in her eyes broke him. “You look perfect, Lydia. Sexy as hell.”

  When she blushed and smiled, a little sparkle lit up her eyes. “Thank you.” She walked forward and leaned her head against his chest. The natural thing for him to do was hug her. Having her in his arms spurred on the next natural reaction, which no doubt she felt pressed against her stomach, but it was too late. What was done was done.

  When her hands rested on his chest, the moment was perfect until he remembered this wasn’t real. Unless Lydia did a full one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn, she could never be his. Her options might be limited, but she kept one foot facing each direction, waiting to sprint to the side that offered the best deal. The scales weren’t tipped in his favor, but he’d work on that. Maybe she’d see everything she could want or need was right here in Aspen Cove.

  “I’m going to get dressed while you do whatever it is you think you need to do in here. I’ll tell you you’re perfect the way you are.”

  She stepped away and looked at his tented towel. “You’re perfect too.”

  He wanted to laugh because compared to her last three-inch asshole, Wes had so much more to offer.

  He beat her downstairs. Since he’d promised Sarge a trip to the bar, Wes leashed him up and loaded him into the truck. When he got back to the house, Lydia was waiting in the kitchen. Her hair shone like spun gold. Her eyes popped with a little sparkly shadow and long black lashes, but it was her shiny ripe red lips that got him. When she flicked her tongue out to taste the gloss, he got jealous.

  “What flavor is that?”

  She ringed her lips with her tongue. “Watermelon. Samantha gave each of us girls a tube the last time I was here.”

  Wes wet his lips. Even though he couldn’t taste it, he could imagine how sweet a kiss from Lydia would be. If he didn’t get her in the truck and on the road, he knew he’d do just about anything to get a taste.

  “Ready?”

  She lifted her shoulders. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  Minutes later, he parked the truck in front of Bishop’s Brewhouse and raced around to let Lydia out. Sarge jumped across her lap and took off for the door. “Sorry about that. It’s hard to control him when he knows what he wants. He’s got a soft spot for your sister’s dog.”

  “Otis has a way with everyone. He’s friends with the cat. You can’t account for taste.”

  “It’s strange how happiness is found in the unlikeliest of places with unexpected companions.”

  “Yeah, yeah, are we talking lemons again?”

  “No, we’re talking lemonade. Let’s go, beautiful. The world awaits your greatness.”

  He opened the door for her and entered the already full bar. In the corner was one empty stool. Wes rushed forward to save it for Lydia.

  “Have a seat. What would you like?” Cannon walked over with a stout and a glass of white wine.

  “Look, I’m already a regular.” She held up her glass and tapped his mug. “Here’s to hot men in bath towels.” When she winked, a warm heat washed over him.

  “Any particular man in a towel you’re referring too?”

  She looked around the bar which had men outnumbering women three to one. “Keeping my options open.”

  “The odds are in your favor.”

  “It would seem, but honestly the odds never fall in my favor.”

  “Today is the first day of the rest of your life. Make different choices and see what happens.”

  Sheriff Cooper tapped the mic. “Drink responsibly and don’t drive intoxicated.”

  Everyone lifted their drinks to toast. One of the new guys said he’d only drink until he was influenced.

  “I’ll be seeing you later,” the sheriff said. “I’ve got a room ready.”

  Karaoke started with Katie, who arrived with a tray of leftover muffins that were devoured in seconds.

  She handed the mic to Bayden Lockhart, who’d showed up only minutes before with his brothers.

  “Now that would have been my type,” Lydia said.

  “Bayden?”

  “Is that Mr. Dark and Dangerous’s name?”

  “Yep.” Wes didn’t like that she had a type. Liked it less because it was opposite of him. Couldn’t figure out why it mattered to him. “You met him last night with his brothers.”

  She leaned against the bar with her elbows back, her breasts jutted forward. He wasn’t the only one to notice.

  “He looked familiar but I couldn’t place him.”

  A smile broke free. Bayden might be her type, but he wasn’t memorable. He sang a song and passed the mic to someone else. The night went by quickly. By nine o’clock only the jukebox sang.

  A few brave men approached Lydia and asked her to dance. Blind was more like it because the ones who caught Wes’s glare turned and walked away. She took to the tiny dance floor a few times, but her eyes found his no matter where she was or who she was with.

  On her fourth glass of wine she wasn’t exactly stable on her feet. When some guy asked her to dance, she followed him. All the while she looked over her shoulder to Wes. He wasn’t much of a dancer but when the asshole cupped her ass and wouldn’t let her get away, he rushed to her side. “You need to drop your hand, asshole, or you’ll lose it, and she’s the only qualified physician capable of reattaching it.”

  The guy raised his hand in surrender and stepped away. “Didn’t know she was taken. She said yes.”

  “To the dance, not to pawing her to death.” Wes pulled Lydia to his chest and swayed to the music.

  “I thought you’d never dance with me.”

  “Is that what you wanted?” His hands rested on her hips.

  Her cheek pressed to his chest. Could she hear the way his heart raced?

  “I thought it would be nice.” Air whooshed from her in a contented sigh.

  “You’ll never get what you want if you don’t ask for it.”

  “What if I wanted to kiss you?” She stared up at him with desire in her eyes.

  He pressed his lips to her forehead. “I’d tell you to wait until you were sober and then ask me.”

  “Figures.” She stepped away.

  “Is this where you get mad at me again and tell me I’m not cute?” The music ended, and he walked her back to the bar where Cannon had another glass of wine waiting. Since Wes was the designated driver, she could drink as much as she wanted. He’d switched to water two hours ago.

  “No, this is where I tell y
ou thank you for being such a stand-up guy right before I tell you what an idiot you are to not take me up on my offer. I’m a damn good kisser.”

  She reached across the bar and tugged on her sister’s sleeve. “Tell him I’m a good kisser.”

  Sage’s eyes shot wide. “Someone’s had enough wine.” She mouthed the word, “Sorry.”

  “Tell him,” Lydia begged.

  “I can’t say firsthand, but she’s a Nichols and we have lips that taste like honey.” She tapped Cannon. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

  Cannon turned around. “Isn’t what right?”

  Sage lifted on tiptoes and kissed him. “Just agree, baby, it’s the safest response.”

  “Anything Sage says is true,” he replied.

  “Smart man,” Wes tossed back. “I think it’s time I got your sister back to the house.”

  Lydia had gulped down her wine and laid her head on the bar.

  “Are you sure you can handle her? I can take her to our place. We’ve got a couch with her name on it.” The concern in Sage’s eyes was obvious. She loved her sister without reservation.

  “No, I’ll take her home and put her in my bed.”

  Cannon and Sage looked at him.

  “See,” Lydia slurred. “He’ll take me to bed, but won’t give me a kiss.”

  “I meant I’ll take her to her room and put her to sleep. She’ll be fine.” Lord, how he wished the other scenario was true, but if Lydia ever made it to his bed it would be when she was sober.

  “Let me take you home.” He guided her outside. Sarge followed behind. She stumbled a few times on her way to the truck, but she got there intact.

  During the short drive home, she fell asleep.

  In his arms, he carried her upstairs and placed her on top of the bed covers. Her eyes fluttered open when he removed her shoes and pulled the covers from beneath her body.

  “I really wanted you to kiss me,” she murmured.

  He sat on the edge of her bed and tugged the comforter over her body. “You want to know a secret?”

  She leaned forward and nodded.

  “I really wanted to kiss you too.” He pressed his lips to hers in a gentle chaste kiss. “Love that watermelon.”

  She was asleep before he closed the door.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Oh Lord.” A sliver of light filtered through the blinds and poked Lydia straight in the eye. She covered her face and groaned. Next to her the furry beast stretched and kicked, nearly pushing her off the bed. If waking up with a bass drum beating inside her head and a seventy-pound canine beating her body wasn’t bad enough, her mouth had traversed the desert all night. Cottonmouth didn’t begin to describe the arid landscape of her tongue.

  Tossing off the blanket revealed she’d slept in her clothes. The same clothes she’d worn to the bar. The pounding in her head increased when she sat up and looked around. On the nightstand was a glass of water and two painkillers.

  Her heart beat in time with the percussion thumping inside her brain. What the hell did I do? The small tablets stuck to her tongue until the rush of water washed them down.

  Oh hell. Lydia knew wine was the worst panacea for disappointment. The artificial high never lasted long enough to get through the reality of the low. She slipped off the bed onto her bare feet and walked past her sandals sitting neatly against the wall.

  Between the painful beats she tried to get a clear picture of last night. There had been the message, the wine, the bar and Wes. He’d danced with her once.

  She walked into the steamy bathroom and stood in front of the sink. With the hand towel she found on the counter, she wiped the fog from the mirror and groaned. After a splash of cold water she realized all was not right in her world.

  In the mirror’s reflection was a very naked Wes leaning against the shower wall as the jets massaged his body. The right thing to do would be to turn around and leave, but that was not what she did. She watched him through the foggy veil floating around his body. Broad shoulders angled to narrow hips that ended at an ass carved by the gods. Perfect stonelike globes led to strong thighs that could no doubt crack coconuts with a single squeeze.

  Wes Covington was a sight to behold. He was a construction worker fantasy come to life. It got better when he turned and Lydia got a glimpse of his hammer. Heavy and thick in his hand, she knew without a doubt he’d be able to hit all the right spots with his tool.

  When her eyes slid up his body, she found him looking at her.

  “See something interesting?”

  Oh God. She was caught in the act. It was bad enough to get drunk and be put to bed last night but getting caught looking at him was too much. All she wanted to do was melt into the floorboards.

  Lydia took another long look before she straightened her shoulders and put a mask of indifference on her face.

  “Basic equipment. Anatomy 101.” She turned around and faced the mirror as if it was a normal occurrence to have a sexy, naked man showering behind her. She reached for her toothbrush while he stepped out of the shower and stretched for a towel.

  The mist circled his body like a blanket. Water droplets dripped to the tile floor. With inches separating them, he leaned in and said, “Oh, sweetheart, if you think this is basic equipment you need a refresher course.” He wrapped the towel over his shoulders, leaving his body exposed. Wes didn’t have an ounce of self-consciousness. Then again, with a body like Zeus and a hammer like Thor, what was there to hide?

  “Have you no shame?” Lydia stood back. No matter how hard she tried to not look, she took him in like a cat watching a mouse.

  “What’s there to be ashamed of? I’m not the voyeur.”

  That was the indisputable truth. She was the trespasser. The creeper peeper. The shower stalker. After one last glance at his perfection, she turned on the water and put a line of toothpaste on her brush.

  “Sorry, I didn’t hear or see you showering. All I could hear when I entered was the drum line in my head. All I saw was the need to brush my teeth.”

  Wes chuckled. “That’s not all you saw.” He looked down at his heavy, hanging length.

  Damn the man for making her look again. “What the hell am I doing?” She set her readied toothbrush on the sink and turned toward her room. “I’ll come back when the bathroom isn’t occupied.” She wanted to look over her shoulder but didn’t for fear her feet would be glued to the floor and her eyes stuck on him.

  “You don’t have to leave, Lydia, we’re grown-ups. Surely we can share a bathroom.”

  It took everything in her to walk into her room and close the door. Somehow the ache in her head had descended to the space between her thighs. She wasn’t sure which was more painful.

  She climbed back into bed and waited for a sign that Wes had finished in the bathroom. She knew as soon as Sarge leaped from the bed it was safe for her to enter.

  The fog had lifted, and the mirror cleared. Staring back at her were dark baggy eyes, bedhead, and a sallow complexion. It was a wonder that Wes hadn’t seen her and run from the bathroom. She looked at the connecting door and almost locked it but didn’t. Wes would probably never enter but a thrill raced through her knowing he could.

  Thirty minutes later she walked down the stairs to the kitchen, where he sat at the table talking on the phone.

  “Glad it’s going great.”

  Lydia heard only his side of the conversation, but his voice was pleasant and positive.

  “No need to come by. Enjoy the visit with your parents.”

  At the coffeepot, she poured herself a mug and turned around to see Wes staring at her. He lifted a Pop-Tart and pointed to the cupboard.

  There were worse things to put in her body. The most recent that came to mind was wine. Last night was a blur. She walked to the cabinet she’d alphabetized and worked her way to the shelf that held P items. Maybe she should have shelved them by flavor.

  She plopped two cinnamon tarts into the toaster and leaned against the counter.
>
  “Unnecessary. Really, stay in Vail. I won’t be around, anyway. We have the grand opening of the park today.” Wes sipped his coffee. “Yep, talk to you later.” He set his phone down and looked at her. “Feeling better? How’s that ache?”

  “What?” No way could he be talking about the throbbing in her core.

  The toaster buzzed and the Pop-Tarts rose. She pinched one between her fingers and lifted it to a waiting plate.

  “Your headache?”

  “Oh, it’s getting better.” How was it she’d just seen the man naked, and he was sitting at the table as if nothing happened? Nothing happened. “Did you put me into bed last night?”

  A sly smile lifted the corners of his lush lips. “I did. You don’t remember?”

  A feeling of dread seeped deep into her bones. She was fairly bold when she was sober. Give her a drink or two and she had no filter or fear.

  She pulled her lower lip between her teeth. Gnawed on it until it turned numb. “I’ve got nothin’.” She really had no recollection past… Oh shit. I asked him to kiss me. “Oh boy. I may have asked you to kiss me. Was that a dream?”

  Wes rose from his seat and walked to the coffeepot for a refill before he returned, which meant he was staying longer. Hard enough to get through what she did this morning and now she had to relive last night.

  “I’ve got no idea what you dreamed, but I’d love to be inside your head and watch.”

  She picked up the pastry and nibbled around the edges. It was a habit of hers to eat the outside crust before the filling. Sometimes you had to make it through the less exciting stuff to get to the good parts. The problem with this situation was she remembered none of the parts.

  “You didn’t answer the question?”

  “Did I kiss you?”

  She let out a frustrated breath. “Yes, Wes, did you kiss me?”

  He appeared to enjoy her discomfort. “Well, as a matter of fact, I did.”

  Ba boom, ba boom, ba boom her heart raced until it became boom boom boom boom.

  She dropped her breakfast to the plate and buried her face in her hands. “I’m so embarrassed.”