by Kylie Scott
"Here," said Vaughan, draping a checked button-up shirt over my shoulders. "Put that on."
"I thought your luggage got delayed."
"Yeah. I lied. Didn't want you covering up."
"Ha." I smiled. Then I stopped. "I am sorry about all this."
He shrugged. "Had nothing else planned for tonight. What're they all up to?"
"Ah, well," I said. "Ray is on the phone to his lawyer trying to best assess how to destroy me while doing damage control to preserve the good Delaney family name. Samantha, meanwhile, is over there busily trying to push your friend, Officer Andy, into hauling me away in cuffs for assaulting her son."
"Shit."
Chris looked up, giving me a truly malevolent look. Hate filled his bloody face. To think I'd been about to marry the asshole. At any rate, no matter the provocation, the chances of him letting me get away with hitting him were nil to none. His pride would demand I be punished.
No, he was just letting me stew with this show of deliberation. Jerk.
To think I'd believed all of his sweetness and light for so long. I really needed to bang my head against a brick wall at the earliest opportunity. Try and knock some sense into myself.
Paul tugged on his arm and they returned to their intense heart-to-heart. They actually made a nice-looking couple, Chris with his dark hair and chiseled face, and Paul with his Nordic good looks. Pity about the general acts of bastardry surrounding the entire affair.
"Why hasn't he, do you think?" asked Vaughan, studying all the people standing in his front yard.
"I honestly have no idea."
"Hmm." He huffed out a breath. "You've got shit taste in men, Lydia."
"Understatement of the year, babe."
He gave me a half-smile. "How's your hand doing?"
"Swollen and sore." I turned it this way and that, letting him see. My knuckles were a delightful chunky blue-black. "But I think it's just bruised."
"Matches your cheek."
"Lovely."
He trudged down the front steps, hands in his jeans pockets.
I slipped my arms into Vaughan's shirt, doing my best to cover my womanly assets. Wondered if jail was anything like on TV. Guess I'd soon be finding out. A shame I hadn't kept the ring. Pawning it to pay for my legal defense would have been beautifully ironic. Whatever happened, I was done being the resident fool for the Delaney family. Dumb was never cute.
"Lydia." Ray stalked toward me, stopping at the bottom of the couple of stairs leading down off the small front patio. "You're fired, in case that wasn't clear."
Asshat. "Am I, Ray?"
He puffed himself up, preening. Lucky one of the buttons on his shirt didn't pop. "You punched a work colleague, Lydia. One who just so happens to be the boss's son. You do the math."
I nodded. "You're right, I did. Speaking of which, what do you think my chances would be of suing Chris for fraud and emotional distress? Guess I should talk to a lawyer too."
"What?"
"Goodness, what a scandal that'll be. The folks in this town are going to be talking about this mess for a good long time, aren't they?"
The lines around his mouth looked cavernous in the early evening light. "Are you trying to blackmail me?"
"You really want to start digging into the ethics of this situation? I don't know if that would be wise for any of us, Ray."
He growled into the phone for another minute. When he faced me again, he was not a happy camper. "Some sort of settlement might be reached if I was assured that video would never again be seen. It would also involve you keeping your mouth shut about anything to do with my family."
"I also want a reference reflecting my prior work history as opposed to today's unfortunate events."
"All right."
I tipped my chin. Accepted. "I'd also prefer it if your son chose not to press assault charges."
"I'll see what I can do." With a frown, Ray looked to his wife, not Chris. Big surprise who held the reins in that marriage. Not. His wife was a Harpy Queen of Darkness if I'd ever seen one. The chances of me not getting a criminal record tonight were slim.
At any rate, the Delaney's had oodles more money than me if it came down to duking it out in court with regards to my emotional distress, et cetera. Best just not to go there. Doubtless, Ray would destroy my reputation any other way he could. The doors of CDA's social elite would be closed to me now. They'd trash talk me all over town and I'd probably never find work.
However this went down, CDA and I were done. A pity, I'd liked it here. The town had a nice vibe and it was neither too big nor too small. What with the lake and the hills, the town was insanely beautiful. For me, it'd been just right.
Oh, well.
There was always my possible looming stint in jail for punching Chris to look forward to. I should try to be positive. Perhaps I'd just get community service or something, a fine. I wonder if I'd be deemed a flight risk and locked up regardless.
God, when I actually started thinking it over, my options were terrifying. The skin on my arms goose pimpled despite the warm evening air. One small tiny miniscule part of me even regretted punching Chris.
No. Never. I'd reclaimed what little remained of my pride by walloping the douche. My hand throbbed in agreement. Sometimes, violence and mayhem just were the answer.
CHAPTER SIX
"Oh good," said Vaughan in a dry voice. "You found tequila."
He and Officer Andy stood by the dining table. Both staring down at me with disapproving eyes. Little did they know how ridiculous and pompous they appeared. People, so blah. Especially men.
"Yeah, turns out we didn't have to go next door after all." I smiled. "There was some hiding at the back of your pantry."
"Was there?"
"Hope you don't mind."
"Not at all."
"You know, I was thinking about all those celebrity mugshots you see in the magazines where they're a hot mess," I said from my seat on the floor in the corner of the kitchen. "And it occurred to me that this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for me to really go all out there and experience the moment to its fullest."
"Really?" he drawled.
"Absolutely. Life is short, Vaughan." I grinned. "And short or not, I intend to get one."
"One what?"
"One life. Just the one. I'm not greedy."
"Right." The dude did not look convinced. Gosh, I liked him. He was so pretty. He and his cock were the highlights of my day. After a few more drinks I might even tell him in great rambling detail. What fun. Wonder if he'd let me take a picture for my wallet. Of his face, of course.
"I'll replace the booze," I said. "I promise."
"I'm more worried about your liver than the booze." He walked over, liberating the bottle from my hand and taking a sniff of the stuff. "Surprised it's still drinkable. My sister left it here years ago. It was cheap shit then, can't imagine it's improved."
"It's a little rough on the palate."
"And you're drinking straight from the bottle? Classy."
"I didn't want to put you out by dirtying a glass."
"Kind of you." He took a slug and winced, screwing his whole face up. "Christ, Lydia."
I sputtered out a laugh. "It's not that bad."
"It's fucking awful."
"The first few mouthfuls were the hardest, it's true. But after that, the lining of your throat goes numb. Or it's burned away," I hastily amended. "I'm not really sure which."
With a dubious look, Vaughan handed me back the bottle. Then he took up position standing beside me, legs crossed at the ankle, leaning his hip against the kitchen counter. Despite all of the people invading his house in their wedding finery, he'd remained relaxed. Bare feet, skin a couple of shades paler than his arms. Loose threads hanging from the bottoms of his old blue jeans.
For not the first time, I wondered about him and his dramas. If possible, I should help. God knows, he'd more than earned any and all assistance. Few people would have been so understanding.
Officer Andy shifted on his feet, running a hand over his military-short blond hair. Obviously getting impatient. It'd been a long day for everyone.
"When you're ready, ma'am," he said. "I'd like to explain to you the situation as it currently stands."
"Explain away." I sat up straight.
Officer Andy continued, "The good news is, Mr. Chris Delaney has decided not to press assault charges against you."
"What?" My whole body deflated, sagging back against the wooden cabinetry in relief. I'd have done a victory lap of the house had I been able. "He has?"
"Yes."
"Oh, sweet baby Jesus. Thank god for that." Down went the tequila. Down my throat, that is. Holy hell, the stuff was potent. I wheezed as delicately as possible, covering my mouth with a hand, tears flooding my eyes. "Why isn't he?"
"I discussed the situation with them thoroughly," he said, gaze serious. "With circumstances like this, it's not unusual for people in the heat of the moment to get carried away. Once they've had some time to reflect upon everything that's at stake, the full ramifications of the conflict, they often change their minds about taking any action."
"Huh."
"Yes, well, Vaughan also pointed out that pursuing charges against you would likely raise interest with local media," reported Andy, almost as an afterthought.
I looked up at Vaughan.
"Still got a few friends at the local radio station." One of his shoulders rose nonchalantly. "Would only take a call."
"Really?"
He reached down, seizing the bottle. "No big deal."
"No big deal? You kept me out of jail."
"Eh." He took another swig of tequila, cringing only slightly this time. "Couldn't have them carting you off to the big house. We've made plans to hang tonight."
"You're the best," I whispered to Vaughan, my hero.
He winked.
Officer Andy cleared his throat, sounding somewhat aggrieved. Over what, I had no idea. Honestly, I'd kind of forgotten he was still there.
"Seeing as the last thing they want is any more attention given to this situation," he said, "they decided to let it go."
I blew out a breath of relief.
"They will, however, be taking restraining orders out against you," said Andy "Restraining orders?" Wow. It almost made me sound dangerous, like some thug or something. Like I roamed the streets of Coeur d'Alene just looking for people to punch in the nose.
"Yes." Andy tucked his thumbs into his police officer Batman-thingy utility belt. "Under no conditions should you try to approach any of the family, or step foot on any of the family's properties, including any and all commercial interests. Understood?"
"It'll be entirely my pleasure to never set sight on those idiots again." And then some. "But what about my things? They're all over at the big house."
"Mrs. Delaney has assured me she'll see to the prompt delivery of your personal effects."
"How kind." My brows descended, my trust for Samantha in the negatives. My options, however, were nonexistent. So currently, I had my bridal lingerie and nothing more. Apart from Vaughan's shirt and goodwill, of course.
"I hate to impose further," I said, reaching up for the tequila to take another sip. "But would it be all right if I crashed on your couch tonight once we're done hanging?"
"Spare room's all yours."
"Thank you."
"And I told Ray he could send any paperwork here until you get something else sorted," said Vaughan, once more taking possession of his own liquor. This time he downed a whole mouthful, no problem. Impressive. Masculine, manly and stuff. He'd probably catch up to me in no time.
"Thank you for talking them down," I said.
Another chin tip.
"If that's all, ma'am, I better get a move on." Over by the table, Officer Andy stood tall, looking totes competent and stuff.
"Are they gone from out front?" Gah, I sounded so timid. "Not that I'm afraid of them. It's just, it's been a long day."
"They're gone." Vaughan handed me back the bottle with a smile. "Took your douche ex-fiance off to the emergency room to get his nose set."
"I broke it?"
"That's my bet." We exchanged grins.
With a deep breath, I relaxed for what seemed like the first time in days, resting my head back against the cabinet. "I have no home or job. But I have my liberty."
"I'll leave you two to celebrate," said Officer Andy.
"Thanks, Andy." The men started clapping each other good and hard on the shoulder as guys do. "Good to see you again."
"You too." He hesitated. "Damn shame about Nell and Pat."
"Yeah." The smile on Vaughan's face faded.
"You, ah, wouldn't know if she's dating again yet, would you?"
A long pause.
The happy on Vaughan's face had disappeared without a trace. So much for cool, calm, and collected. I wondered who Nell and Pat were. Obviously people important to him.
"See you later, Andy," he said in lieu of answering the question.
The message was delivered just fine. "Right. Night."
"Night." I waved. "And thank you."
He didn't respond. The officer got gone while Vaughan watched with eyes distinctly flat and unfriendly. Had it been me, facing his cold front, I'd have run. Instead, I attempted diversion.
"Thanks for not kicking me to the curb." I held out the bottle to him, shaking it gently.
Mouth still grim, he wandered back into the kitchen, sitting on the floor at my side. "You're welcome."
"I'll cook you breakfast."
"There's no food in the house."
"Damn. All right, if Samantha has delivered my purse by morning, I'll buy you breakfast."
"Deal."
We passed the bottle back and forth in silence for a while. My head grew progressively fuzzier, all of the emotion of the day's events softening to a "meh." For now, I was all humiliated, hurt, and raged out. The knuckles on my right hand stung like a bitch and if I started mentally picking apart all of the what-ifs and could-haves again I'd go insane.
The light over the dining table emitted a soft golden glow, leaving the rest of the house in shadow. It seemed even quieter and emptier as the night set in.
"How long has it been since you've been here?" I asked.
"We played at a small festival a few years back. Not since then."
"You're in a band?"
"I was. We broke up a couple of months back." He'd leaned his head against the kitchen cupboards, eyes closed. "We'd been together for ten years, based down in L.A. mostly."
"What instrument do you play?"
"Guitar."
"That's great." I could see it. It made sense. I shook my head in wonder, making the room turn lazy woozy circles, or my brain did. I'm not sure which. "Not about your band breaking up, I mean about you being a musician. Are you going to join another band or--"
He made a noise in his throat. "Been trying to put one together. Bass player from the old one's still on board, but we just haven't had any luck finding the right people."
"That sucks."
"It sure does."
"So that's your drama?"
He opened one eye. "Pretty much. Only came back to town to sell this place to my sister. Need to pay off the mortgage, get a little to live on while we find a new singer and drummer, get things sorted out."
"Your sister, is that Nell who Andy was asking about?"
"Yeah." His gaze darkened. "She split with her husband a little while back. Figure she'll be happy to buy the place, have somewhere of her own to live. She always loved this house."
"It's beautiful."
His face softened, relaxing into a smile. "You do love the old Arts and Crafts bungalows."
"Yes, I do." When he smiled at me like that ... whoa. Let's just say the house wasn't the only thing that was beautiful. "I'm sorry you've got drama."
"I'm sorry you've got drama too."
"And I'm sorry I dragged my drama into your h
ouse."
"I know." He covered my hand with his much larger one. Warm. He was so warm and lovely and stuff. If the shitty day and toxic tequila had left me with an iota more energy I'd run my no-strings-sex-between-new-friends idea past him. As it was, I'd save it up for tomorrow. At least I had my memories of him bare ass naked to keep me happy in the meantime. And trust me, there was real happiness to be had in having seen this man naked. My dreams had better be full of him, or I and my subconscious would be having a serious talk.
"What?" he asked.
"What, what?"
"You're looking at me funny."
"Am I?" My jaw cracked loud and proud on a yawn. What a day. I laid my head against his shoulder, getting comfortable, closing my eyes.
"You planning on crashing right there?" he asked.
"Mm-hmm."
"Okay."
All I could hear was the in and out of his breathing, the occasional sound of the tequila sloshing about in the bottle as he took a drink. All was calm. Peaceful. For now at least.
"You were a beautiful bride, Lydia."
I smiled, too close to sleep to speak.
"Beautiful."
CHAPTER SEVEN
Fucking Samantha. If the woman was on fire, I'd make s'mores.
After so gracefully passing out on the kitchen floor, I'd woken up on a bed in the spare room this morning. Everything hurt. I'd stumbled into the kitchen in search of water and seen the latest disaster through the glass doors. My almost-mother-in-law had been busy. Real busy.
With Vaughan's cool dude aviator sunglasses to guard against the brain-piercing morning glare, I searched the backyard for my belongings. A bra here, a pair of panties there. You never knew what you might find hidden in the long grass.
Why, it was just like a treasure hunt minus the map.
And the fun.
My green silk blouse hung high in a tree and it wasn't alone. God knows how she'd gotten it all up there. Unleashed her flying monkeys, perhaps? Wicked witch was about right.
A box of books and another filled with personal mementos had been dumped straight over the fence as if they were garbage. I didn't have the heart to look inside and see what was broken. Every muscle in my jaw ached. I wanted to scream and rage, to let it all out. Again. Only if I started, I wasn't sure I'd be able to stop.