Colton by Marriage Read online

  Nothing was every going to be the same again.

  And Susan knew without being told that for a long time to come, she was going reach for the phone, beginning calls she wouldn’t complete, driven by a desire to share things with someone she couldn’t share anything with any longer.

  God, she was going to miss Miranda. Miss sharing secrets and laughing and talking until the wee hours of the morning.

  More tears came. She felt drained and still they came.

  Susan lost track of time.

  She had no idea how long she’d been sitting on that bench, sobbing like that. All she knew was that she felt almost completely dehydrated. Like a sponge that had been wrung out.

  She should get up and go home before everyone began to wonder what had happened to her. She had a wedding to cater tomorrow. Or maybe it was a birthday party. She couldn’t remember. But there was work to do, menus to arrange.

  And God knew she didn’t want to worry her parents. She’d told them that she was only leaving for an hour or so. Since she worked at the family restaurant and still lived at home, or at least, in the guesthouse on the estate, her parents kept closer track of her than they might have had she been out somewhere on her own.

  Her fault.

  Everything was her fault, Susan thought, upbraiding herself.

  If she’d insisted that Miranda go see the doctor when her friend had started feeling sick and began complaining of bouts of nausea coupled with pain, maybe Miranda would still be alive today instead of…

  Susan exhaled a shaky breath.

  What was the point? Going over the terrain again wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t bring Miranda back. Miranda was gone and life had suddenly taken on a more temporary, fragile bearing. There was no more “forever” on the horizon. Infinity had become finite.

  Susan glanced up abruptly, feeling as if she was being watched. When she raised her eyes, she was more than slightly prepared to see Linc looking back at her. It wouldn’t be that unusual for him to come looking for her if he thought she wasn’t where she was supposed to be. He’d appointed himself her keeper and while she really did value his friendship, there was a part of her that was beginning to feel smothered by his continuous closeness.

  But when she looked up, it wasn’t Linc’s eyes looking back at her. Nor were they eyes belonging to some passing stranger whose attention had been momentarily captured by the sight of a woman sobbing her heart out.

  The eyes she was looking up into were green.

  Intensely green, even with all that distance between them. Green eyes she couldn’t fathom, Susan thought. The expression on the man’s face, however, was not a mystery. It was frowning. In disapproval for her semi-public display of grief?

  Or was it just in judgment of her?

  Duke was wearing something a little more intense than his usual frown. Try as she might, Susan couldn’t recall the brooding rancher with the aura of raw sexuality about him ever really smiling. It was actually hard even to summon a memory of the man that contained a neutral expression on his face.

  It seemed to her that Duke always appeared to be annoyed. More than annoyed, a good deal of the time he looked angry. Not that she could really blame him. He was angry at his twin for having done what he’d done and bringing dishonor to the family name.

  Or, at least that was what she assumed his scowl and anger were all about.

  Embarrassed at being observed, Susan quickly wiped away her tears with the back of her hand. She had no tissues or handkerchief with her, although she knew she should have had the presence of mind to bring one or the other with her, given the situation she knew she might be facing.

  Maybe she hadn’t because she’d secretly hoped that if she didn’t bring either a handkerchief or tissues, there wouldn’t be anything to cry about.

  For a moment, she was almost positive that Duke was going to turn and walk away, his look of what was now beginning to resemble abject disgust remaining on his face.

  But then, instead of walking away, he began walking toward her.

  Her stomach fluttered ever so slightly. Susan straightened her shoulders and sat up a little more rigidly. For some unknown reason, she could feel her mouth going dry.

  Probably because you’re completely dehydrated. How much water do you think you’ve got left in you?

  She would have risen to her feet and started to walk away if she could have, but her legs felt oddly weak and disjointed, as if they didn’t quite belong to her. Susan was actually afraid that if she tried to stand up, her knees would give way beneath her and she would collapse back onto the bench. Then Duke would really look contemptuously at her, and she didn’t think she was up to that.

  Not that it should matter to her what Duke Colton thought, or didn’t think, of her, she silently told herself in the next breath. She just didn’t want to look like a complete idiot, that was all. Her nose was probably already red and her eyes had to be exceedingly puffy by now.

  Crossing to her, still not uttering a single word in acknowledgment of her present state or even so much as a greeting, Duke abruptly shoved his hand into his pocket, extracted something and held it out to her.

  Susan blinked. Duke was holding out a surprisingly neatly folded white handkerchief.

  When she made no move to take it from him, he all but growled, “Here, you seem to need this a lot more than I do.”

  Embarrassment colored her cheeks, making her complexion entirely pink at this point. “No, that’s all right,” she sniffed, again vainly trying to brush away what amounted to a sheet’s worth of tears with the back of her hand.

  “Take it.” This time he did growl and it was an unmistakable command that left no room for refusal or even wavering debate.

  Sniffing again, Susan took the handkerchief from him and murmured a barely audible, “Thank you.”

  He said nothing for a moment, only watched her as she slid the material along first one cheek and then the other, drying the tear stains from her skin.

  When she stopped, he coaxed her on further, saying, “You can blow your nose with it. It won’t rip. I’ve used it myself. Not this time,” he corrected uncomfortably. “It’s been washed since then.”

  A glimmer of a smile of amusement flittered across her lips. Susan couldn’t begin to explain why, but she felt better. A lot better. As if the pain that had been growing inside of her had suddenly abated and begun shrinking back down to a manageable size.

  She was about to say something to him about his kindness and about his riding to the rescue—something that seemed to suit his tall, dark, closed-mouth demeanor—when she heard someone calling out her name.

  Linc. She’d know his voice anywhere. Even when it had an impatient edge to it.

  The next moment, Linc was next to her, enveloping her in a hug. Without meaning to, she felt herself stiffening. She didn’t want to be hugged. She didn’t want to be pitied or treated like some fragile child who’d been bruised and needed protection.

  If he noticed her reaction, Linc gave no indication that it registered. Instead, leaving the embrace, he slipped his arm around her shoulders, still offering protection.

  “There you are, Susan. Everyone’s worried about you,” he said, as if he was part of her family. “I came to bring you home,” he announced a bit louder than he needed to. And then his voice took on an affectionate, scolding tone. “I told you that you shouldn’t have come here without me.” Still holding her to him, he brushed aside a tear that she must have missed. “C’mon, honey, let’s get you out of here.”

  A while back, she’d allowed their friendship to drift toward something more. But it had been a mistake. She didn’t feel that way about Linc. She’d tried to let him down gently, to let him know politely that it was his friendship she valued, that there was never going to be anything else between them. But Linc seemed not to get the message. He seemed very comfortable with the notion of taking control of her life.

  She found herself chafing against that notion and
feeling restless.

  He was being rude and completely ignoring Duke, she thought. Duke might not care, but she did.

  Susan turned to say something to the rancher, to thank him for his handkerchief and his thoughtfulness, but when she looked where he’d just been, he was gone.

  He’d left without saying another word to her.

  The next moment, Linc was ushering her away, leading her toward the parking lot. She heard him talking to her, saying something about how relieved he was, or words to that effect.

  But her mind was elsewhere.

  Chapter 2

  “You really shouldn’t try to face these kinds of things alone, Susan,” Linc quietly chided her as he guided Susan to his car. Once beside the shiny silver convertible, he stopped walking. “I’m here for you, you know that. And I’ll always be here for you,” he told her with firm enthusiasm.

  “Yes, I know that.” Fidgeting inside, Susan looked around the lot, trying to remember where she’d parked her own car. Linc meant well, but she really wanted to be by herself right now. “And I appreciate everything you’re trying to do, Linc, but—”

  Her voice trailed off for a moment. How did she tell him that he was crowding her without sounding as if she was being completely ungrateful? He was only trying to be kind, to second-guess her needs, she knew all that. But despite all that, despite his good intentions and her understanding, it still felt as if he was sucking up all the oxygen around her and she just couldn’t put up with that right now.

  Maybe later, when things settled down and fell into place she could appreciate Linc for what he was trying to do, but right now, she felt as if she desperately needed her space, needed to somehow make peace with this sorrow that kept insisting on finding her no matter which way she turned.

  Linc opened the passenger door, but she continued to stand there, scanning the lot. He frowned. “What are you looking for?”

  “My car.” Even as she said it, Susan spotted her silver-blue four-door sedan. She breathed a sigh of relief.

  He opened the passenger door wider, silently insisting that she get inside. “You’re not up to driving, Susan. I’ll take you home.”

  Her eyes met his. Susan did her best to keep her voice on an even keel, even though her temper felt suddenly very brittle.

  “Don’t tell me what I can or can’t do, Linc. I can drive. I want to drive my car,” she told him with emphasis.

  He pantomimed pressing something down with both hands. Her temper? Was that what he was insinuating? She felt her temper flaring.

  “Don’t get hysterical, Susan,” he warned.

  The words, not to mention the action, were tantamount to waving a red flag in front of her. If the words were meant to subdue her, they achieved the exact opposite effect. “I am not hysterical, Linc,” she informed him firmly, “I just want to be alone for a while.”

  “You didn’t look very alone a couple of minutes ago.” For a moment she thought he was going to pout, then abruptly his expression changed, as if he’d suddenly come up with an answer that satisfied him. “Was he bothering you?”

  Susan stared at Linc, confused and wondering how he’d come to that kind of conclusion. Based on what? “Who?” she wanted to know.

  “That Colton guy. You know who I mean. His brother killed Lucy Walsh’s father,” he said impatiently, trying to remember the man’s name. “Duke,” he finally recalled, then asked again as he peered at her face, “Was he bothering you?”

  She felt as if Linc was suddenly interrogating her. Not only that, but she felt rather defensive for Duke, although she really hadn’t a clue as to why. She’d had a crush on him when she was a teenager, but that was years in the past.

  Still, he’d stopped and given her a handkerchief when he didn’t have to.

  “No, what makes you say that?”

  Linc’s shoulders rose and fell in a spasmodic shrug. “Well, you just said you wanted to be alone, and when I found you, he was in your face—”

  Susan was quick to interrupt him. Linc had a tendency to get carried away. “He wasn’t in my face, Linc. He hardly said a whole sentence.”

  Linc’s expression told her that it hadn’t looked that way from where he was standing. “Then he was just staring at you?”

  Susan didn’t like the tone that Linc was taking with her. He was invading her private space, going where he had no business venturing. He was her friend, not her father or her husband. And even then he wouldn’t have the right to act this way.

  “In part,” she finally said. “Look, he saw I was crying and he gave me his handkerchief. No questions, nothing, just his handkerchief.”

  Linc snorted. “Lucky for you he didn’t try strangling you with it.”

  It was a blatant reference to one of the theories surrounding Mark Walsh’s death. The county coroner had said that it appeared Mark Walsh had been strangled, among other things, before his face was bashed in, the latter being the final blow that had ushered death in.

  Susan just wanted to get away, to mourn her best friend’s passing in peace, not be subjected to this cross-examination that Linc seemed determined to conduct. She lifted her chin stubbornly. “Duke’s not Damien,” she pointed out.

  The look on Linc’s face was contemptuous, both of her statement and of the man it concerned.

  “I dunno about that. They say that twins have an unnatural connection. Maybe he’s just like his brother.” Linc drew himself up, squaring his shoulders before issuing a warning. “I don’t want you talking to Duke Colton or having anything to do with him.”

  For a second, even with the emotional pain she was trying to deal with, Susan could feel her temper really flaring. Linc was making noises like a possessive boyfriend, and that was the last thing on earth she needed or wanted right now. “Linc, it’s not your place to tell me what to do or not do.”

  Realizing the tactical error he’d just committed, Linc tried to backtrack as quickly as he could and still save face.

  “Sure it is,” he insisted. “I care about you, Susan. I care about what happens to you. We don’t know what these Coltons are really capable of,” he warned. “And I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to you because I didn’t say something.”

  Did Linc really think she was so clueless that she needed guidance? That she was so naive that she was incapable of taking charge of her own life? From out of nowhere a wave of resentment surged within her. She struggled to tamp it down.

  She was just upset, Susan told herself. And Linc did mean well, even if he could come across as overbearing at times.

  It took effort, but she managed to force a smile to her lips. “I’ll be all right, Linc. Don’t worry so much. And I’m still driving myself home,” she added in case he thought he’d talked her out of that.

  She could see that Linc didn’t like her refusing his help, but he made no protest and merely nodded his head. She was about to breathe a sigh of relief when Linc unexpectedly added, “All right, I’ll follow you.”

  Susan opened her mouth to tell him that he really didn’t have to put himself out like that, but she had a feeling that she’d just be wasting her breath, and she was in no mood to argue.

  Maybe she was being unfair. Another woman would have been thrilled to have someone voluntarily offer to all but wrap her in cotton and watch over her like this. There was a part of her that thought she’d be thrilled, as well. But now, coming face to face with it, she found it almost suffocating. All she wanted to do was run away.

  Maybe she was overreacting, making too much of what was, at bottom, an act of kindness. But if she was overreacting, she did have a really good excuse. Someone she loved dearly had just died and blown a hole in her world, and it was going to take a while to come to terms with that.

  Rather than prolong this no-win debate, Susan nodded. “All right, I’ll see you at the house.” With that, she turned and walked quickly over to where she’d parked her vehicle.

  Duke watched the tall, slim, attractive young blonde
make her way through the parking lot. More to the point, she was walking away from that annoying prissy little friend of hers.

  Lincoln Hayes.

  Now, there was a stalker in the making if he ever saw one, Duke judged. He wondered if Susan was aware of that, of what that Linc character was capable of.

  Not his affair, Duke told himself in the next moment. The perky little girl with the swollen eyes was her own person. There was no reason for him to be hovering in the background like some wayward dark cloud on the horizon, watching over her. She might look like the naive girl next door, but he had a feeling that when push came to shove, Susan Kelley was a lot stronger, character-wise, than she appeared.

  A fact, he had a feeling, that wouldn’t exactly please Lincoln Hayes.

  And even if she could be pushed around by the likes of Hayes, what was that to him? Why did he feel this need to make sure she was all right? The girl had his handkerchief and he wanted it back. Eventually. There was absolutely no other reason to pay attention to her, to her comings and goings and to whether that spineless jellyfish, Hayes, actually turned out to be a stalker.

  Annoyed with himself, with the fact that he wasn’t leaving, Duke watched as Susan crossed to the extreme right side of the lot and got into her car, a neat little sedan that would have been all but useless on his own ranch. It wouldn’t have been able to haul much, other than Susan and some of her skinny friends.

  Her sedan came to life. Another minute and she was driving off the lot.

  Rubbing his hands on the back of his jeans, Duke got into the cab of his beat-up dark-blue pickup and drove away.

  “Have you been crying?”

  Bonnie Gene Kelley fired the question, fueled by concern, the moment her daughter walked into the rear of Kelley’s Cookhouse, the restaurant that she and her husband Donald ran and had turned into a nation-wide chain.