what he wanted in life—hence his own escape to Antigua. He’d lived there, solo on a beach for several weeks, clearing his head, thinking about his priorities, until Tessa had called.
Lydia had to be here now to settle her mother’s affairs. That morning, he’d waited down the road outside her family’s ranch and had watched her leave. He followed her on her errands for most of the afternoon. Lawyers, real estate, some other stores and offices.
It confirmed what he’d found so far. She didn’t seem to be in any trouble, and she looked fine. Better than fine, really. He’d call Tessa in the morning and let her know her friend was okay, and leave it at that. If the storms passed, he’d head home for Christmas, or maybe he’d go back to the beach. Ely had taken a new lease on life, and Lydia had been the cause of that.
He’d become more spontaneous and wanted to enjoy life more. Having spent more than a decade of his life surrendering to his sense of duty, joining the Marines when he was eighteen and doing nine years there before coming home three years ago, when he immediately took up work with his brothers. His focus for all of his adult life had been work, family, country.
But where was he in all of that? He’d never stopped to ask. He thought he knew what he wanted—work and a family of his own—to find someone, settle down, live a traditional kind of life. The things he was supposed to want, right?
But everything had been turned upside down when the woman he thought he could have that life with betrayed him and then he ended up in bed with the last woman he could imagine sleeping with. Lydia wasn’t someone he would have normally been attracted to, and she had expanded his sexual horizons far past his previous experience.
And he enjoyed it.
It was enough to make a guy seriously rethink his wants, needs and desires. For now, he was living day to day and trying to be more open. Experimenting. Not tying himself down. Why on earth had he been so anxious to marry after being tied to the military, then to his job? He fought for the freedom of others, but hadn’t experienced much of his own. Maybe he’d still settle down someday, but he had a lot of living to do first.
As soon as he finished this job.
He left the room and walked downstairs to get a beer and some dinner. Crossing the restaurant to find a seat at the bar, he took note of the other patrons conversing and enjoying an end-of-the-day brew.
Lydia was a city girl—polished and street-wise. If anyone had asked, he would have assumed the closest she’d ever been to a cow would have been pouring milk for her cereal in the morning. That was about as close as Ely had ever been to one, himself. Guns, he knew. Strategy, war, protection.
Cows, not so much.
Looking at the rough, hardworking men who sat at the bar, Ely took in the Christmas tree that stood in the corner, cheerfully decorated, giving a little sparkle to the soft light off the well-worn but comfortable tavern. He caught the eye of the bartender, who walked over.
“I’ll have a beer, a burger and some fries, if you’re still serving,” he said, with a glance at the clock.
“We are. Serve til nine,” the guy said. “Some of the best local beef you’ll ever taste. Visit a good one so far?”
“Yeah, it’s a beautiful place.”
“Business in town?”
“Not really. Just passing through to see a friend, then heading back home,” Ely said casually.
“Who’s your friend?”
“Lydia Hamilton. You know her?”
The bartender shook his head. “Nope. I knew Faye Hamilton, everyone did, but never met Lydia. She must be the daughter?”
“Yeah.”
“Heard she took off years ago, before I bought this place, and I’ve had it for a while. You back from the war?”
“How could you tell?”
“I served, my father served in World War II, and my son is in Iraq. Marine?”
Ely nodded.
“Ooh-rah,” the older man said with a smile, and Ely shook the hand he offered. “My name’s Tom. You?”
“Ely.”
They talked for a while about their service, and Ely was glad for the diversion away from the topic of Lydia.
Ideally, she would never know he was here; he had a feeling she wouldn’t take kindly to the knowledge. He didn’t intend to tell Tessa anything other than that Lydia was fine. Lydia had a right to her privacy, and he didn’t want to mess up Tessa’s friendship with Lydia. If Lydia wanted to tell Tessa about her past, that was up to her.
He didn’t like lying to them, but it wasn’t really lying; it was keeping Lydia’s confidence. Ely had a lot of things he couldn’t tell anyone after his military years.
Tessa was a new bride, and she saw romance and happily-ever-after in everything these days. He figured she’d seen that with him and Lydia as well, and he didn’t want to encourage her. She’d pressed them both for details about what had happened that night, but she was bound for disappointment on that score. What had happened between Lydia and Ely hadn’t had anything to do with romance.
It had been raw, basic lust. And Lydia wasn’t the romantic type.
I don’t do relationships, she’d told him that night as she had undressed him. But I do a lot of other things.
Being with Lydia had been...liberating.
Unfortunately, they’d parted on somewhat awkward terms, and he had gone out of his way to avoid contact with her so that no one—namely Tessa—got any ideas. Also because he was messed up—he’d jumped from one woman’s bed to another, and had been pretty well turned around. Not his most shining hour.
They should have cleared the air sooner, agreed to be friends, at least, since there was no doubt they would see each other from time to time. Jonas was very fond of her, too, and Ely knew Lydia would be included in whatever family functions came along. He figured time would let it fade, and they’d be friends.
Ely’s attention snapped to as he realized he had completely zoned out on what the bartender was saying. He covered by nodding to the weather report playing on the TV above the bar.
“Looks like a big storm coming in.”
“We get a lot of those. Hope you’re not in a hurry to get out. Will be a few days before roads are clear and planes are on time again, most likely.”
“I’m in no hurry,” he fibbed with a smile. He’d hoped to be there no more than one more day, but the weather appeared to have something to say about that.
His dinner arrived and Ely dug into his burger—which really was excellent—and then froze midbite.
Lydia.
She stood inside the door, scanning for a place to sit. Ely turned away, hoping she didn’t see him. There’d be no way to explain his presence here other than the truth, and that wasn’t an option. When he looked back,
