A Winter Wedding

“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.”

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