Falling for the Rebound Bride

by Karen Templeton

  Apparently unaware of his sudden awkwardness, Emily took a sip of her soda as she gazed out over the crowd. “I hope you realize how awesome your family is.”

  He felt his face warm. “I do. I always have.”

  “But...?”

  “I’m just wired differently. That’s all.”

  “I can understand that,” she said. “Boy, can I understand that.” Then she laughed when the dog twisted to nibble at her chin. “Yes, I know, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you.” The puppy yipped and she tilted her head toward Colin. “Have you named him yet?”

  He jerked. “No. Since I’m not keeping him. Since I can’t keep him,” he said to her pursed lips. “Can’t exactly haul a dog around the world with me. And having to board him all the time...no. You could take him, though.”

  “Actually...that might be possible now. As soon as I find my own place, that is.”

  Colin frowned at her. “What?”

  She smiled at him, clearly delighted. “The permanent job came through. I’ll be working at the gallery during the summer before that, but...” The grin got bigger. “You’re looking at Whispering Pines’s newest kindergarten teacher.”

  “Oh. Wow. That’s great.”

  “Thanks. Cannot tell you what a relief that is, since returning to DC would feel like going backward, frankly. And anyway, after what I said to Dad, not to mention my mother...” She pulled a face. “I’m just burning bridges right and left here.”

  “You don’t sound too torn up about that.”

  “Probably because I’m trying not to think about it too hard. Frankly I pretty much suck at this cutting-the-cord stuff.”

  He took a sip of his beer. “Got news for you—everyone does.”

  “Still. I probably could’ve finessed things with both of them a little better, maybe. However. What’s done is done. No place to go from here but up, I suppose.” She toyed with the puppy’s ears for a moment, then chuckled. “What do you think of Spud?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “As a name.” She lifted the dog to face her, chuckling at his rapid-fire darting tongue. “Because you look like a little potato.”

  Despite the roiling in his head, Colin pushed out a laugh. “You do realize he’s not gonna stay that size, right?”

  “Which will make the name even funnier. But only if you approve.”

  “Me?”

  “Sure. Since he’s your dog, too.”

  “Spud’s fine,” he said, not looking at her. Then she released a huge sigh. “What was that for?”

  “Now that I’m going to be a doggy mama again, it’s made me think even more about my own parents. Our strange relationship. I mean, I know they want the best for me. But that’s not necessarily what is best for me, if you know what I mean.”

  “I do, actually. Although I’m not sure which is scarier—how your brain works, or that I get how your brain works.”

  Emily laughed, then took a sip of her soda. “Love is such a strange thing, isn’t it? I thought I loved my parents, because that’s what you do, isn’t it? And it’s not as if they were ever actually mean to me or beat me or anything. So why wouldn’t I love them? Like I thought I loved Michael.”

  “So you’re really over him?”

  Cuddling the dog, she shrugged, a gesture that came across a lot sadder than she probably thought it did. “I’ve accepted that what I thought we had wasn’t real. Is that the same as being over him? I’m not entirely sure.”

  And he knew all about that, didn’t he? How rarely logic and emotions saw eye to eye? Suddenly fury roared through Colin, that this sweet, crazy-good person hadn’t been loved the way she deserved to be loved. And he wished...

  No. You don’t.

  Because let’s listen to the logical side, shall we? That the woman who’d just admitted she wasn’t entirely sure she was over her ex didn’t need...complications.

  As in, him.

  “For what it’s worth?” he said softly. “I have complete faith in you, that you’ll figure it all out.”

  She turned to him, and what he saw in those pretty blue eyes, that smile, knotted him up inside so badly he could barely breathe. “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  Nodding, she turned away, nuzzling the pup again. “I’d love to see the book. If you’re good with that, I mean.”

  And wasn’t it strange that, despite the fact that a whole bunch of people would see it eventually, the thought of her seeing it gave him the willies? Because none of those people—editors and marketing people and the like—knew him. None of those people, he didn’t think, would read between the lines like he strongly suspected Emily would.

  Would see through the thin veneer that separated his public persona from his soul. What passed for his soul, anyway.

  “Not sure how much there is to see. That makes sense, anyway. It’s mostly a bunch of essays to go with the pics on my computer. The production team will make it all pretty.”

  “So that’s a no?” she said, humor shimmering through her words.

  There. She’d offered him the perfect out. All he had to do was accept it—

  “It’s a... Don’t expect a finished product.”

  “I won’t.” She awkwardly lowered the pup to the ground, where he raised his nose to the fragrant breeze...and promptly piddled. Chuckling, Emily lifted her gaze, tilting her can toward Zach and Mallory. “Those two are so cute together it almost hurts to watch.”

  “Truth,” he said, and she laughed again, then sobered.

  “This was supposed to be my wedding day, too.”

  His head snapped around to her, although she wasn’t looking at him. “Oh, hell...”

  “No, it’s okay, I’m fine. Especially when I remind myself how horrible it would’ve been to have found out the truth after we’d gotten married. Maybe after we’d had a kid or two. So no regrets here,” she said, lifting the can in a toast to no one in particular. “Believe me.”

  “And why am I tempted to sniff that can to see what’s really in it?”

  Emily snorted another little laugh. But again, he heard the sadness. Regret? Perhaps not. Not for him to say, at least. But something he recognized all too well. Then she set the can on the table before leaning back to rest her palms behind her, a move that stretched the lightweight material across her breasts, her thighs, a belly that was all the more enticing for not being completely flat, and he thought at this rate his libido was going to have a stroke. In spite—or maybe because—of the way her expression mellowed.

  “You’re really at peace here, aren’t you?” he asked.

  The kindness, the genuineness in her expression when her eyes met his made him ache. More. “I really am. Or at least I’m pretty sure here is where I’ll find it.” She arched her neck to look up at the sky, and every drop of spit in his mouth evaporated. Especially when a strand of hair toyed with her throat. “But let me guess...” Sitting up again, she linked her hands around her knees. “You’re absolutely itching to get away again.”

  Perhaps itch wasn’t the best word to bring up right now, when at the moment it applied equally to two entirely conflicting needs. Once more he angled away from that trenchant gaze. “Something like that.”

  But not for the reasons she thought. Although at least he could be grateful that nobody knew what he’d been considering. Now, however, with Emily staying...

  “It must be nice, to be able to go with the flow like that,” she said. A gentle laugh washed over him. “I actually envy your sense of adventure.”

  “Don’t,” he said, startling himself. “It’s not always that great.”

  He could feel her gaze on the side of his face before she reached for her drink again and took a long swallow. “You mean, because of what you’ve seen?”

  He paused. “
Yes.”

  She jiggled the soda, making the fizzing carbonation ping against the inside of the can. “Thank you.”

  His brows crashed together as he faced her again. “For what?”

  “For trusting me enough to admit that.” The space between her own brows creased before her gaze caressed his, a blush sweeping across her cheeks. “I’m just putting this out there, okay? Since I know how hard it can be to talk to the people who know you too well. Or think they do, anyway. Because that opens the door to all this advice. Or judgment. Whatever. However...”

  Her fingers on his wrist were smooth. Warm. “I also know how crappy it is keeping stuff inside. How it sits there, festering, becoming worse and worse the more you think about it. So if you need someone to talk to...”

  “I don’t.”

  She removed her hand, and Colin had to force himself not to grab it back. “Fine. But if you change your mind, I can promise you, no advice. And certainly no judgment.”

  A frown biting into his forehead, Colin let his gaze swing back to her profile. “Why?”

  “Because...because in the past few weeks you’ve let me be me more than anyone else ever has. Except Dee, maybe. But that’s different. You didn’t have to. Seems only fair to return the favor. And the best part?” Smiling, she met his eyes again, and he could have sworn he saw something in them that had nothing to do with what she was actually saying. Although that could have been wishful thinking on his part. “Once we go back to our lives, we’ll probably never see each other again. So there’s that. But even, um, a momentary connection is better than nothing.”

  That last sentence had been spoken so softly, so gently, Colin almost wondered if he’d imagined it. He looked back out over the yard, at the kids running around, the smoke curling up from the giant grill, the normalcy blanketing a moment that he had a strong suspicion had just zoomed so far past normal it wasn’t even recognizable anymore.

  Except it was. If you knew what you were looking for.

  “Are we still talking about...talking?”

  Another laugh slapped his libido clear into the next week. Then Emily slid off the table, the move shifting her hem so he got a good long glimpse of gorgeous long leg before she faced him again.

  “This is me going with the flow.” Her breasts rose with her deep breath. “Seizing a moment.”

  “Being reckless.”

  “That, too. But the great thing about knowing what the possibilities are—or aren’t—from the get-go, is that there are no expectations. So you can relax and enjoy that moment.”

  By this point Colin’s blood was pumping so hard he could barely hear her. Then he frowned. “Were you... Did you have this in mind when you came out here?”

  Her mouth twitched. “Maybe.”

  He punched out a breath. “Emily... I can’t take advantage of you.”

  “Not asking you to. But, hey, if you don’t want to—”

  “Want has nothing to do with it.”

  She glanced away, then back at him. “Actually, it has everything to do with it. With...whatever’s in your eyes. The stuff you’re not telling me. That I’m not asking you to.” A half smile curved her mouth. “I can keep your secrets, Colin,” she said, her gaze hooked in his. “But I’m good with you keeping them, too.”

  Then she walked away, that stupid, shapeless dress leaving everything to his imagination.

  Which had taken flight like nobody’s business.

  Chapter Nine

  Emily could feel Colin’s gaze on her back, five times hotter than the setting sun slicing across the vast yard. And almost hotter than the blush searing her cheeks at what’d just happened.

  That she’d come on to a man. With reasonable grace, even.

  Although knowing there was no future for them actually made it easier to consider the one thing she’d never before considered in her life—sex simply for fun. For now. Because for so many months the implication had been that it’d be some sort of prize for after the wedding, which she’d gone along with because she’d thought the real prize was worth the wait.

  How wrong she’d been. How very, very wrong.

  Oddly—or maybe not—Colin stayed out of her way for the rest of the evening. Although whether because he didn’t want his family playing any guessing games, or because he’d found her suggestion utterly abhorrent, she had no idea. Since he hadn’t exactly leaped at the opportunity, had he? Still. Nothing ventured, nothing gained and all that. She was hardly going to get her panties in a wad over something that had been a huge gamble to begin with.

  Which did not mean her heart didn’t whomp up against her ribs like a boss when she got a text from him the next evening, as she sat outside on the Vista’s veranda, cocooned against the evening chill in some old shawl of Dee’s.

  Okay.

  Man of few words, that one. Although she might feel a teensy bit more confident with a little expansion. Especially since it had been more than twenty-four hours since she’d tossed down the gauntlet.

  Okay, what?

  To your suggestion.

  Her heart thudded again. She took a deep, deep breath in some lame attempt to steady it, then texted.

  You sure?

  Roughly a million years later, her phone dinged.

  Are you?

  And, a second after that:

  And yes, I’m giving you an out.

  Holy hell. Never, ever in her life had she done anything like this. Or wanted to. Then again, she’d never been in a situation like this before, had she?

  I’ll be over in a minute, she texted, then slipped her phone into her jeans pocket before he could respond.

  She found Dee and Josh in the great room, cuddled together on one of the couches watching TV. Both kids had zonked out some time ago, their parents’ relief obvious on their faces.

  “Colin just texted. He says the pup’s acting weird. He wants me to come take a look.”

  Amazing, how easily the lie slid right off her tongue.

  Josh glanced up, the light from the screen flickering across his face. “Maybe I should come, too,” he said, starting to rise. “Make sure it’s nothing serious—”

  “And Em can let you know if it is,” Dee said, clamping one hand around her husband’s forearm and giving Emily a knowing look. Because she was no good whatsoever at this clandestine stuff.

  Although Josh, bless his heart, was clearly clueless. “Okay. But I’m here if you need me.”

  “Thanks.” Then she boot-scooted out of there before anyone could see her burning face.

  Wrapped more tightly in the shawl, she clomped across the wooden porch, the sound then muffled in the dirt as she made her way past the paddock to the foreman’s cabin. The clear, starry night was silent and still, save for the thrum of crickets’ chirping, the distant howl of a coyote. The cabin’s front door swung open before she reached Colin’s porch, a spear of light guiding her way. And with that, the full ramification of what she was doing—or about to do, anyway—slammed into her.

  But she had no idea what it might mean to Colin, she thought as his broad-shouldered silhouette filled the doorway, fragmenting the light. Maybe nothing, really—oh, hell, her heart was about to pound right out of her chest, since men were much more adept at these things than women. Weren’t they?

  Spudsy scampered out onto the porch from behind Colin’s feet, wriggling up a storm when he saw her, and Emily’s heart stopped its whomping long enough to squeeze at the sight of the bundle of furry joy she’d come to love.

  At least she’d be able to keep the dog, she thought as she scooped up the little dog to bury her face in his ruff, trying to ignore Colin’s piercing gaze.

  Oh, hell. That whole sex-as-fun thing? Who was she kidding? That wasn’t her. Never had been. What on earth had made her think a single ev
ent would change her?

  Although this one just might.

  “I made a fire,” Colin said quietly. Carefully. As though afraid she might spook. Never mind this had been her idea.

  “That’s nice.”

  Ergh.

  Something like a smile ghosted around his mouth. “We can always just talk. No expectations. Isn’t that what you said?” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “You’re safe, honey. With me.” His lips curved. “From me.”

  Still cuddling the puppy, she came up onto the porch. Closer. Too close. But not so close that she couldn’t, if she were so inclined, still grab common sense by the hand and run like hell.

  “And from myself?”

  “That, I can’t help you with.”

  Another step closer. Then another, each one a little farther away from common sense, whimpering in the dust behind her. “Kiss me,” she whispered.

  There was so much ambivalence in his smile she almost withdrew her request.

  Almost.

  * * *

  Her mouth was soft and sweet and giving under his, as Colin threaded his fingers through all that shiny, slippery hair to still her trembling. Or maybe to still his—right now he couldn’t tell. Her lips parted, trusting; he cautiously accepted her invitation, not wanting to lose that trust. He still wasn’t sure of her motivation, but he damn well knew she was still hurting. If he could, even in some small way, ease that ache, even if only a little...

  Even if for only a little while...

  The dog yipped between them, making them laugh, breaking the tension.

  “That was nice,” he said, and she smiled.

  “Very,” she said, that twinkle he’d come to like so much reappearing in her eyes, almost but not quite banishing her obvious uncertainty.

  He brushed a kiss across her temple, her sigh making his shudder. “What do you want? Really?”

  She angled her head to meet his gaze, her pale neck tempting. “You,” she said. “This. Now.”

  “You sure?”