“You could use a night away from a dying woman and a town in trouble.”
“Ruth—”
“Don’t argue with me.” There was a flare-up of pure, unadulterated alphaforcein her voice right then, and it instinctively snapped Lydia’s mouth closed. “I’m not going to die in the next twelve hours. And if you’re going to have to start asking any brute who can shift to be your lawful wedded husband, you deserve one more night on the town first.”
Lydia stared at her.Are you telling me to go get laid?
“That’s right,” Ruth said, meeting Lydia’s gaze as unflinchingly as ever. “You must have a place you like to go to meet men. You’re not the first alpha in Mountainview’s history who’s slipped off to a neighboring town for a night, and, God willing, you won’t be the last. I did the same thing before I married your grandfather, and it was a lot harder back then. Go out, find someone you like, and ....”
Ruth couldn’t finish her sentence.
It was maybe the first time Lydia had ever heard that happen to her, and she knew why. It wasn’t that Ruth was too shy to say “find someone you like, and ride him until the bed breaks.” If anything, this conversation had already shown that she was far more comfortable talking with Lydia about sex than Lydia would like.
No, what Ruth meant but couldn’t bring herself to say was more like,Go out, find someone you like, and get any hint of romance out of your system, because when you come back, you’re going to have to marry someone only the tiniest bit better than your worst nightmare.
Find someone you like, and then get ready to marry someone you hate.
Ruth was sending her off to have what could be the last flirtation and last bit of good sex of her life, and both of them knew it.
Lydia swallowed.
“Yeah,” she said. “I guess I’ll do that.”
*
Ruth was right: Lydia did have a place she went to when she felt like she was going out of her mind with loneliness. No one in Mountainview had ever felt like a real option to her, not when she had always known she would be alpha one day. Everyonehere was a responsibility, not a potential lover. It was hard enough even trying to have real friends.
So when she needed to blow off some steam, she went one town over, to the Rip-Roarin’ Roadhouse. The name went a little too heavy on the alliteration, so everyone Lydia knew, including the owners, called it the Rip-Roar.
It sounded more boisterous than it was. The owners kept a tight lid on any trouble, cutting off anyone who seemed like they were getting too drunk for their own good and kicking out anyone who seemed to be spoiling for a fight. They made sure the only ripping and roaring that happened was the fun kind.
There was almost always good live music, too, and tonight was no exception. It was heavy on the blues, which suited her mood. Even if Lydia didn’t meet anyone, she’d enjoy getting to listen to the band.
She didn’t even make it through her first hard cider before she started thinking that actually, maybeenjoywas the wrong word. Every song felt like it was reaching inside her chest and hooking its fingers into her heart. The singer’s smoky, scratchy, sultry voice couldn’t take the edge off the raw pain in the music—and maybe she didn’t even want it to. Maybe this ache was exactly what she was going for.
It was fantastic, but it was almost too much for Lydia to stand. She felt like she was standing on a wide-open landscape, with no help or shelter in sight, watching dark storm clouds roll in. Electricity crackled all around her.
This was a mistake. She shouldn’t have come here, no matter what Ruth had said. She didn’t need a break, she needed asolution.
Reeve was going to ruin everyone’s lives.
Her bottle of cider slipped between her fingers as her hands went nerveless on her. It clanged on the bar, a little cider sloshing out.
Never mind the drink. She had to get some air. Rightnow.
A voice, warm and steady, suddenly interceded: “Hey, it’s okay. Do you want to go outside?”
It wasn’t one of the Rip-Roar owners or bouncers making sure she didn’t have a panic attack in front of the rest of their clientele. It was a guy she’d never seen before.
He was tall and strong, lean but well-muscled. He was dressed about the same as she was, in a navy shirt and a worn denim jacket with a fleece collar. He had dark brown hair—a shade or two lighter than hers—and calm gray-green eyes with delicate crow’s feet etched around them. His cheeks looked a little windburned, like he did a lot of work outside.
On the edge of panic or not, Lydia couldn’t help thinking,God, I’d like to climb him like a tree.She hoped that didn’t make her blush too much.
“Yeah,” she said, thankful that her voice didn’t come out as a croak. “Yeah, I think I’ll go out and catch my breath. Thanks.”
To her surprise, he came with her, even swiping her cider off the bar in case she wanted it.
He didn’t push her to talk, either. It was like he was perfectly fine wasting his evening by standing on the Rip-Roar’s porch, letting the balmy night breeze brush up against them, listening to the distant sounds of the music inside. He didn’t even have a drink.
