Marie Ferrarella - Colton by Marriage

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.

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.”