She didn’t hear from him for two months. By the time she finally did, it hadn’t mattered.
But there weren’t any tears this time. Kate had loved Colt Wesson with every inch of her heart. But he’d been right when he’d warned her that he wasn’t capable of that kind of love—giving or receiving. She’d thought she had enough for them both. But his self-fulfilling prophecy had come true, and eventually the love she’d had for him had turned to hate. When he’d walked away from her that last time, she’d honestly despised him.
Maybe she still did.
She thought Colt was out of her life for good, but Scott needed her to do this, and after all he’d done for her, she couldn’t refuse. Even if it meant having to face old demons.
And Colt certainly qualified. But he was still a goodlooking devil with that belligerent bad-boy thing he’d perfected. Sexy as sin, drop-dead gorgeous, dark brown, almost black hair that was always too long and scruffy for regulation, with piercing green eyes, he looked like he belonged in an old Western movie. Tough, mean, and a little dangerous. Check that. Alotdangerous.
None of it was a facade.
She eyed him coolly and asked her question, not surprised when he refused.
“It’s not a good time,” he said. “As you can see, I’m busy.”
Kate knew he was just being provocative for the sake of being provocative—not because he thought he could get to her. It was just his nature to be a dick.
She smiled tightly. “I’m sure that Miss...?”
She turned to the woman on his lap, who was taking everything in with a wide-eyed look on her face. The woman quickly filled in “Sadie.”
Kate gave her a genuine smile of thanks before turning back to Colt. “Miss Sadie wouldn’t mind if you step away for a few minutes.” She gave the woman another smile. “I promise to send him right back.”
As soon as she could, as a matter of fact.
“I don’t mind,” Sadie said, getting off his lap. “You his wife?”
From the way she asked the question, Kate could tell she thought it unlikely.
Kate gave a small laugh, as if agreeing that the concept was inconceivable. “No.”
“Ex-wife,” Colt interjected.
His tone gave nothing away, but Kate knew him too well. She could see from the slight tightness around his mouth that her laugh had bothered him.
He’d always assumed that she thought the worst of him; why was he surprised now that she did?
He’d clearly shocked Sadie with his announcement—and everyone else close enough to hear. She understood the reaction. They appeared utter opposites. Were this the ’50s, they could have been Sandy and Danny fromGrease. At one time she thought it didn’t matter. But four years of marriage had taught her differently.
“Is there somewhere we can speak privately?” she asked, aware of the people listening to their conversation.
He unfolded himself from the stool with some effort and obvious reluctance. Her request appeared to be a serious hardship. But he led her past the bathrooms to a back door that led into an alley where the Dumpsters were located.
The smell hit her immediately. Nothing like rotting garbage on a warm summer DC night. She didn’t react, but he’d always been good at reading her mind—about the unimportant things at least.
“Sorry for the smell, but I figured this was better than the bathroom. There’s a private office, but I don’t know the bartender well enough anymore to ask.”
But he had at one time. And she could guess why he would have wanted to use the private office—it wouldn’t have been for talking. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of wondering whether he’d used that office while they were married. At this point, what did it matter?
“Careful not to brush up against anything,” he said. “Wouldn’t want you to mess up that fancy suit of yours.”
“Thanks,” she said briskly, pretending she hadn’t heard the sarcasm. She wouldn’t be drawn in to this kind of back-and-forth. She knew better than to try to match him dig for dig. He would win. His tolerance for cruelty had always been much higher than hers.
She didn’t blame him. It was how he’d been raised and all he’d known as a child. Lashing out had started as defense and turned to offense. Her mistake was thinking that she could atone for that. He was who he was, and shecouldn’t change him. It was hard to remember now why she’d ever wanted to try.
But it hadn’t always been bad. For a while it had been very, very good. And he wasn’t always hard and unapproachable like this. At times he’d let down his guard and let her in a little. But when things got tough those times hadn’t been enough to hang on to. Eventually, they’d disappeared completely.
Their differences went from the insignificant—he drank whiskey from a bottle; she liked an occasional glass of chilled white wine—to the fundamental. She’d wanted a family; he didn’t. She’d wanted to work; he’d wanted a wife who’d be waiting for him when he got home from his long deployments. She’d wanted him to talk about what was bothering him; he’d wanted to keep it inside and hang out with people who understood—i.e., not his wife.
