by Olivia Hayle
“You're willing to bet?” I open the door for her to the dining room. Lucy Rhodes must have gone to her head, just as surely as she had to mine.
“Yes. Don't look so displeased, Oliver. You can't blame me for wanting to see you happy.”
I let the door fall shut behind her and head back to my office. The world had gone insane. I needed to stay far away from Lucy. She'd been just as sweet as I'd imagined, until the sweetness turned sour in my mouth. It didn't matter that I'd made her come twice or that I still felt her warmth in my hands.
I didn't have much, but I had my pride, and I'd be damned before I became a woman's second-best option or her charity project.
Austin sank down in a floppy heap next to my desk and gave a massive sigh.
“You and me both,” I told him.
I pulled up the schedule to the spa and saved a copy of it to the desktop. I wouldn't hide and skulk around my own damn farm, but I knew it like the back of my hand. And if some of the roof tiles on the cottages along the eastern edge needed changing? Well, that was as good a use of my time as any.
It worked like a charm—I didn't see her at all in the coming days.
I’m nailing down a shingle when a familiar voice shouts from below.
“Morris! Do you need a hand?”
I look down at Logan. “There are no wires up here. Nothing electrical at all.”
He shakes his head. “I know how to wield a damn hammer.”
Well then. I recognize the look of a man who needed something to do well enough. I saw it in the mirror most days.
“Grab some shingles and climb on up.”
Logan tosses his t-shirt next to mine and grabs a handful of nails. A minute later we’re working away in silence under the blazing sun. The shingles are hot under my hands, sweat beading along my neck and back. It feels good to be outside again—to work with my hands.
Logan’s movements are jerky at times, and the tension in his shoulders is clear. He lines up a nail but stops at the last second. "Fucking Whittaker Installations," he says.
I snort. “You’ll hear no argument from me.”
“They don't do electrics. That's not their field. And yet…”
“Gavin Whittaker does it on the side. He's not trained for it, but you know how it is.” I shrug. “People have known them forever.”
Logan shakes his head. “It's not safe. And then he has the audacity to say to people that I'm unlicensed? Ass.”
“You've worked since you were what, sixteen?”
“Fourteen,” he mutters. “I know this shit like the back of my hand.”
I hand him a shingle. Logan was never the most talkative of the guys in my unit, but he had come to me with his troubles from the start. During our first posting together, we’d been at sea for nearly seven months straight and shared a tiny bunk bed. When they asked me if I had any requests for men I wanted under my command later, well… Logan was a given.
“You'll get more work in this town. People will see the truth.”
“They better.”
I don't know much about his childhood, but from what I know, he's used to being on his own.
Well, not in Claremont he won't. I'll put the full force of the tired, battered, overused Morris name behind him.
“Gavin’s an ass, anyway.”
“He always was, I'm sure.”
“Have you heard from Larry recently?”
“Yeah. I heard he got married out west.”
“Fuck off!”
“I'm serious. With some girl he grew up with back in Oregon.”
“Shit.” I find it difficult to see the fun-loving guy I remember—who spent most of his leave hanging in bars, picking up women with that wide grin of his—settling down. “Good for him.”
Logan hands me another box of nails. “He always was a lucky bastard.”
I'm silent for a minute, thinking of his words. Lord knows the chance for happiness in this world is slim. If there is even a slight chance to attain it, you have to go for it.
“How's Mandy?”
Logan brings the hammer down hard. “How's Lucy?”
Well-played, brother. I line up another nail and strike it down in one smooth motion. We continue our work in silence, brothers in arms again beneath the blazing Texas sun.
15
Lucy
When I woke up and Oliver was gone the next day, I wasn't surprised. My aunt and uncle were already hard at work in the kitchen below and it made sense that he slipped out before. Imagine explaining that!
The only reminder that he’d ever been there at all was the masculine scent that clung to my sheets, and a pleasant, tingly soreness all through my body.
Oliver Morris. I’d slept with him, and I’d be damned if it wasn’t everything I’d fantasied about and more. I already looked forward to seeing him again.
But he wasn't at the ranch when I arrived later.
He wasn’t there the next day, either.
And he didn’t text me.
He didn’t call.
When I asked Mandy if he was in his office, the third day after the fair, she said he was at a supplier meeting out of town. I could take a hint.
I thought I knew a lot about humiliation. It was the reason I'd left Dallas in the first place, but I just wished it didn't hurt so damn much. It wasn't just because the sex had been amazing, even though it had. Some of the things I had done and said—that he had done!—made me blush just to think about.
But it was the way he'd looked at me afterwards that haunted me most. I had thought, for a brief moment, that he would let me in. That I'd been granted a view of the unguarded Oliver. He’d held me as I slept, and I had let myself dream of a future where that could become a regular thing.
And then… nothing.
On the third day of avoidance, I was hurt.
On the fifth, I was pissed.
Thoughts of him refused to leave me. They stayed with me daily, the great letters spelling Morris taunting me when I biked past them up to the ranch. He was everywhere, even if he was nowhere to be found.
I hadn't left Dallas for this. And even if he regretted what we had done, despite how hurtful hearing it would be, he should be able to tell me. I could accept that.
Even during my massage work—one of my favorite things to do—my mind refused to cooperate. It kept running through what happened, thinking of where I went wrong. Oliver’s attempts to avoid me were getting comical. We work together, for Christ sake.
I run my thumb over a painful knot in the client’s right rhomboid muscle.
What’s Oliver thinking, anyway? That we’ll just never meet again? I could text him, but I want to see his face when we talk.
The knot is moving, but it’s not coming undone. I apply more pressure.
Besides, I’m not going to be weak anymore. I was in the past, but that Lucy is gone. That was the whole point of coming to Claremont.
A new me and a new beginning.
Oliver has to talk to me.
I’ll make him.
"Ow," my client says. "I know I asked for a sports massage, but is it possible to lessen the pressure a bit?"
I loosen my death grip on him. “I’m so sorry, sir. I hope it didn’t hurt too much.”
He gives a weak laugh. “Not to worry. I know I abuse my poor back, and I guess this is penance.”
I smooth across the area I’d assaulted too roughly. “Maybe, but it should never be too painful. Thank you for telling me.”
I finish the massage with the utmost care. My anger is tightly leashed, locked down and controlled under the surface. I can't let my emotions influence my work. No—not my emotions. Oliver.
I wave goodbye to the client and set about cleaning the studio. I polish a pair of brass candleholders. I clean the glass doors to the shower. I re-fold every single towel.
When I’ve stayed for more than an hour past the end of my shift, I lock the door to the spa behind me. It’s time to test a little theory. Will the ranch own
er appear when he thinks I’m gone?
Something tells me he will.
I stroll through the stables and stop to stay hi to the horses. Ginger whinnies loudly and tosses her dark mane.
“Shh, baby, you’re alright.” I run a hand over her soft muzzle. “I’ve missed you. We had fun the other week.”
She snorts and puts her head against my shoulder. "Yes, you're a pretty girl, aren't you? But of course, you already know that."
I stroke the side of her face for a long while, breathing in the familiar scent. There used to be a time when this was a major part of my life. It feels like forever ago, a different lifetime. A different Lucy. Someone much younger, a past version of myself. But maybe it’s someone I’m willing to get to know again.
Her ears prick at the familiar sound of a large pick-up truck parking outside.
“Ah,” I tell Ginger. “Is that your elusive owner? I think it might be.”
I give her a final pat and head towards the edge of the barn, peeking around the edge. Oliver has parked right next to the entrance. A stack of wooden beams are piled up high on the back of his truck.
Seeing him again is like a punch to the gut. The last time I saw him, he had been large and golden and naked on my bed, his eyes soft and his hair tousled.
This time he’s sweaty. His flannel button-down is rolled up at the elbows, tan forearms exposed in all their glory. His hair is hidden beneath a cap, as usual. He grabs one of the large beams. It looks heavy, but he just slings it over his shoulder and begins unloading them one by one.
His face is the same hard, neutral mask I’ve come to expect. There’s no hint of the man who kissed me, who held me, who made love to me only days prior.
No, I correct myself. Not made love. It’s clear he didn’t see it that way, not if he’s been avoiding me. Used and discarded.
I square my shoulders and head out. I refuse to be intimidated anymore. He catches sight of me and his eyes narrow. “Lucy.”
“Hi, Oliver. What's up?”
He grabs another giant beam. “Working.”
His tone is civil, bordering on the unkind. What did I do to deserve this kind of treatment? “I haven't seen you around much.”
“I've been busy.”
“Busy avoiding me?”
His eyes find mine immediately. They're guarded, but he says nothing, just watches me. It’s clear he’s not going to answer my question.
“Can't we at least be civil about what happened?”
He picks up another beam calmly, his face unreadable. “And what happened exactly?”
“We slept together!”
“Oh, that. I remember.”
It feels like a slap. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Take your pick.”
“So now you’re just going to ignore me? I didn’t peg you as a coward, Oliver.”
Angry eyes meet my own. “I’m giving us both space.”
“This is what you call space? Look, I know that you probably think it was unprofessional, and it's fine if you… if you regret it, but we have to co-exist.”
“I’m co-existing,” he says, and suddenly his tone isn't calm at all. It's heated. “That's what I've been doing this week. Co-existing.”
I snort. “This isn't peaceful co-existence. If it is, it's certainly not something I can do forever.”
“Forever? We both know you'll be here a lot shorter than that.”
He doesn't even look at me when he says it, his back turned to me as he grabs another beam. For a long moment, all I can do is stare at him. The coldness, the aloofness—I'd been so sure it was just a facade.
But maybe it's just him.
“You're an asshole, Oliver. Do you know that? I heard… never mind.” To my utter mortification, tears prick at my eyes. I blink them away. “I don't know why you're pushing me away. Let me know when you actually have a reason.”
I turn, but his widened gaze lets me know he's already seen my tears. Damn it. I push the door open, ready to leave when his deep voice rings out.
“Because I have no idea why you slept with me.”
“What?”
“I saw a text on your phone. From Kyle.” He says the name of my ex like a slur.
“Oh my god, Oliver.”
“I'm not going to be party to cheating,” he says, voice vibrating with sincerity. “And I won't be another project you take on to help you figure yourself out.”
I’m so angry I can barely stand still. “Kyle is my scumbag ex-boyfriend. He texts me at least three times a week. Do you want to see the conversation? It's very one-sided. Sometimes he begs for me back and sometimes he calls me a bitch.”
Oliver's face is stone. “The text was sweet.”
“Because he's ashamed. I caught him in bed with my former best friend. Trust me when I say that I have absolutely no intention of taking him back, no matter how sweet his texts are. I could have told you all of this, if you would have just asked me.”
He’s silent for a few painful heartbeats. Then he moves, taking a hesitant step towards me. “Shit. Lucy, I…”
“And you’re wondering why I slept with you?” I hold on to the barn door, praying my tears don’t fall. “It was because I wanted you. I wanted you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone before. Because you're… because somehow, for some reason, I like you. But not right now, Oliver.”
I leave before my tears fall.
He doesn’t follow.
16
Oliver
Shit.
It’s like I’m back at Boot Camp, when everything you did was wrong. With pouring rain and mile-long hikes, with heavy equipment and grueling conditions, our drill sergeant screaming down the heavens with obscenities.
Talk about having my ass handed to me.
I misread the situation. It’s a tactical error—a blunder—but it’s a fucking costly one. Lucy leaves without another word, and I’m left stewing in my own anger and despair.
Her scumbag ex-boyfriend.
I ignored her for a solid week after taking her to bed. By any account, it’s an asshole move. I had pulled away instead of confronting her about it, and I’m not too proud to admit that I recognize the pattern. Lucy had gotten close. I had said things… spoken about things I hadn’t for a long time.
If we got closer, she would want to know more. She’d want me to open boxes I’d sealed off long ago. Could I handle that? Did I even want to?
She called me a coward.
I toss a beam so hard against the barn door that it chips the red paint. It’s not an epithet I’m comfortable wearing. I slept with you because I wanted to, she’d said. I had wanted her too—badly. I still do. That never changed, not even when I thought she’d cheated on her boyfriend with me.
I head back to my office and pull up Lucy's schedule. Business is picking up for both of us, it seems. She's booked nearly every day this week and the ranch is hosting two yoga classes. It's partly because of the high season, but some of it is due to good old word of mouth. Claremont has never had a spa before.
Lucy has a client booked at noon tomorrow. Perfect. I have to make this right.
I could call her or shoot her a text. But face to face communication has always been my thing. And with her… with this… I want to see her reactions. Know what to say.
Sleep doesn’t come easy that night. It’s hot for the season, but I know better than to blame my restlessness on the weather. This time, it’s entirely of my own making. Lucy’s disappointed eyes, shiny with tears, are fixed in my mind. I replay her heated words over and over again. Coward.
The memory mingles with the feeling of her soft lips pressing against my neck, her body nestled close. For a moment, it had felt like something more. Something I don’t have the words to explain, not even to myself. I toss and turn in bed, throwing the thin sheet off me. I’m up before the break of dawn.
Time moves impossibly slowly during the day. Austin can feel my restlessness. He lies at my feet, glancing up at me every so often
.
When the time comes, I head down to the staff kitchen. There's a giant cardboard box of ice cream in the freezer, bought for the staff BBQ, and I'm going to raid it. I'll go to the spa with an apology and a store-bought ice-cream cone. It's not exactly flowers and chocolate, but it’ll have to do.
I hear the sound of tires on gravel and then the patter of small feet running up the front steps to reception. Sarah is early. Voices echo as the girls chat with Mandy. The kids. Lucy liked talking to them before. If I bring them along… she’ll have to talk to me.
It’s a dirty move, but I’ll use every trick in the book to keep me in the game.
I push open the door to reception. Sophia is on her tip-toes, getting a mint from Mandy, her hair in two ponytails. "Thank you."
Nora is sprawled on the floor. She has grabbed one of the huge plastic sunflowers Sarah put in the corner and is holding it in front of her face. “Look! I’m a lion!”
Sophia glances over. “No, you’re not.”
“Yes! This is my mane. Rawr!”
I lean down and scoop her up. Nora shrieks in delight, her little legs kicking, and throws away the sunflower. “Ollie!”
"Hi, kiddos."
Sophia hugs my leg and I pat her head. She’s getting tall.
“Mom didn’t say you’d be here,” Nora says.
“He works here, silly,” Sophia tells her little sister. “He’s always here.”
She looks up at me for reassurance at the same time as Nora frowns. Uh-oh. "Most of the time I am, yeah. This is my job. But sometimes I'm out to meet suppliers. Where's your mom?"
Mandy answers with a smile. “Sarah is upstairs grabbing a few documents. I told her the girls could wait with me.”
“Thanks.” I set Nora down and squat to their height. “How do you feel about having some ice cream? I think we have two cones left, and they really need to be eaten.”
Nora gives a shout of happiness and Sophia grins. She’s lost another tooth. “We’d be doing you a favor by finishing them?”
“Yes. A huge favor. I’d be in your debt for a very long time.”
