by C. M. Albert
“Olivia,” I finally said, laughing at my own delayed response. “Olivia North.”
“North,” he repeated as if etching my name into a permanent database inside his brain. “That certainly won’t be hard to remember.”
“Why is that?”
“It’s a cardinal direction,” he said, as if that answered everything. “The polar stars are permanently visible in the night sky, so many people believe the north is god’s celestial dwelling. It represents permanence. Eternity.”
If we’d been in a bar, I would’ve thought he was using a cheesy pickup line to get in my pants, but the man knew his stuff. And there was nothing humorous about the way he traced my lips with his eyes or held my gaze for what felt like an eternity.
It was the beginning of my obsession with Ryan Wells.
As I stood with my husband now under the bright, late-day sun—once again unable to formulate a coherent sentence—the familiar, unsettling feeling of my heart slipping somewhere beyond my control washed over me.
That was the moment I knew my obsession with Brighton Kerrington began.
Chapter 5
Ryan
SOME MOMENTS BURN themselves in your psyche so deeply you know it will irrevocably change your life as you know it. Olivia meeting Brighton was one of those moments, and I wished immediately I could take it back. As their eyes locked, and my new friend reached out his hand to shake Liv’s, I knew the damage was done.
I wanted to vomit.
She was looking at him the same exact way she’d looked at me the first time we met. Not everyone believes in love at first sight, and I probably would’ve called it hogwash before meeting Olivia, too. But after I met her, I knew Liv was the one. My heart literally held up its white surrender flag and called the game the minute she walked into my classroom. And while I couldn’t say the same today, our love story had once been a textbook fairy tale come true. But as I stood there watching Olivia and Brighton introduce themselves, it felt as if the pages of our romance were curling, darkness threatening to burn everything we’d worked so hard to build.
And yet, there was something breathtaking about seeing the light return to her eyes. She turned to me, excitement bubbling over. She was saying something, but I hadn’t heard a word she’d spoken. I focused on her lips—the ones I’d memorized over the years. The ones that fit my own as if they were made specifically for me.
“Sorry. I spaced out for a minute. What’s that?”
She laughed, and the musical tone cascaded over my chest and slammed into my heart, capturing the rare, elusive sound.
“Brighton was telling me he’s interviewing interior designers, and he’d love to see my portfolio!”
“That’s great,” I said. Work of any kind would be therapeutic for Olivia and help her get out of the house, where she seemed to dwell too deeply in her grief lately. “Maybe you want to check the place out first though? It would be a big job.”
Her bright blue eyes glowed as she looked back to Brighton and started talking design elements and vision again. I had to look away. I focused instead on the front of the historic home. It was large and square, with two dormer windows at the top and a large, open-air front porch that ran the length of the house. Semicircular steps led up to the porch, and a circular portico supported by colonial columns capped off the stately entrance. I couldn’t help but notice the chipping, sage green paint and wondered what color the Kerringtons would paint the house.
That’s where my mind went, because every cell in my body couldn’t handle what was happening right in front of me as I followed them the rest of the way up the front steps. I didn’t know if I could join them inside and bear witness to whatever the hell was happening. Was it all in my mind? I mean, just because Olivia was looking at Brighton the way she’d looked at me once didn’t mean anything. She’d just met the man, for god’s sake. But something Brighton said made her laugh again, and I found myself balling my fingers into fists when she placed her hand on Brighton’s upper arm, as if it were so funny she almost fell over laughing.
When his gaze slid back to mine, and he saw the way I was watching them, the cocky smile I’d never minded before vanished. He grabbed his T-shirt—white this time—and slid it down over his fifty pack or whatever the heck he had.
While Brighton had noticed my reaction, Olivia hadn’t.
I stood there feeling helpless, engulfed in the heat pulsating off the porch’s floor from a day of absorbing the sunlight, bearing witness to the heat now radiating from every pore of my wife’s tantalizing body. She’d worn torn jean shorts today, the kind where the pockets peeked from the bottom of the frayed hemline. At five-six, Liv was all legs. Tan, muscular legs built from years of tennis, kickboxing, and jogging. And even though it hadn’t been that long since Liv delivered Laelynn, her body had bounced right back, the extra curves making her only that much more desirable.
Her breasts were still a little rounder too, and I could see the outline of her padded bra beneath the thin material of her white tank top. She’d thrown on some loose sea-green wrap, though the material was silky and transparent, and the cream-colored fringe only drew my attention back to her thighs where the length fell. It did nothing to really cover her, and I hated my desire to hide her, as if she were the problem and not me.
“You coming?” Brighton asked, moving aside so Olivia could go in first.
I shook my head. “We’re actually grilling out tonight. I’ve already seen the place a dozen times. Why don’t you guys go ahead? I’ll go light the Egg.”
Liv peeked her head back out the front door and looked concerned as she glanced between me and Brighton. “You’re not coming?”
I shook my head. “Nah. You’re in good hands. I have a feeling I’ll get bored anyway, listening to all the design talk. I’d rather chill with Stitch by the grill with an ice-cold beer.”
I couldn’t help but notice the longing in Brighton’s eyes at the mention of burgers and beer. I sighed, wondering if my decision would be the straw that broke the camel’s back—or whatever the stupid saying was.
“Why don’t you join us for dinner? We can finally show you the place—and maybe Liv could grab her portfolio,” I suggested.
It was a Friday night, so I assumed someone as young and good looking as Brighton would have better things to do than to hang with an old married couple. So, when a grin broke out across his face, and his chest puffed out, I knew I’d made a mistake.
“You sure you don’t mind me crashing your dinner?” he asked, looking at Liv now. Even I could see the electricity pulsating between them.
My wife licked her lips, and for a moment, I thought she was about to have a panic attack at the thought of having someone inside our home—her sanctuary. But she shrugged her shoulders as if it were no big deal. Like we did this every Friday night.
“Sure, why not? It sounds like fun,” she said, looking up into Brighton’s green eyes. I couldn’t help but notice the way they matched her summer wrap. “Besides, Ryan makes the best burgers. You’re probably starving after working so hard all day.”
“Awesome. I’ll show Olivia around, then take a quick shower. Trust me when I say you won’t want me over otherwise.”
I nodded, backing my way down the porch steps. It was hard to believe that I felt on steadier ground walking backward down a cement staircase than I did right now about the future of my marriage.
I’d wanted the light to come back to Liv’s eyes for months. I just never anticipated that it would be because of anyone other than me.
Chapter 6
Olivia
THE HOUSE HAD so much potential. For the first time in months, I was able to focus on something other than my pain. The idea of putting storyboards together for each room had me excited again, and I hoped the feeling would last. As we walked from room to room, I couldn’t stop the design visions from flooding my head and my heart.
Brighton started up the grand staircase to the second floor, but then paused, lookin
g down at me. He looked like a Greek god standing there so tall. The last rays of sunlight saturated the foyer, streaming in from the back windows upstairs, casting a halo around his warm blond hair.
“You can see it, can’t you?” he asked, quietly. He looked around the house, his eyes full of hope. “This place is something special, isn’t she?”
I’d never heard someone else use a gender for a house like I did. But houses had energy, and this one was distinctly feminine. I couldn’t help but grin, appreciating that he was the type of man to notice something like that.
“She is.”
“Come on,” he said, taking the stairs two at a time. “The best part is up here.”
The house was already spectacular enough, even if she was currently stripped down to her bare bones. I couldn’t imagine what he was so excited to show me. He led me down the hallway to where a set of ornate doors sat closed. The original cherry wood could still be seen under the flaking blue paint someone had covered them with long ago. I cringed, causing Brighton to laugh.
“Sorry,” I said. “But who would do something so horrendous?”
“That would be my uncle, Isaiah. He did a lot of crazy things in the end. Which is one of the reasons the repair work has been so extensive. However, this was his sanctuary. It’s the one room he didn’t touch, so it’s still mostly in its original glory. Here,” he said, putting his hand over my eyes.
I drew in a deep lungful of air, my heartrate accelerating. I knew it was wrong for my body to be responding like this to a stranger. But the feel of his large, strong fingers next to my skin sent goose bumps down my arms.
He led me through the doors and stopped, his body closer to mine than I’m sure it would’ve been if Ryan joined us on the tour. Brighton’s hand slid from my eyes, resting on my upper arm from behind.
“Open,” he said, his breath warm on my neck.
I stood there, breathing deeply, almost afraid to look. Afraid to see something so beautiful my heart would stop. I needed every beat it had left just to get through the day.
“It’s okay, Olivia,” he said. “You can trust me. I promise, you’ll love it.”
I slowly opened my eyes, adjusting to the much darker room.
“Are you kidding me?” I spun around to get a better look at the spectacular library.
It was more masculine than the rest of the house, with richly saturated, dark-wood bookcases covering nearly every square inch of two floors. A small balcony circled the upper level, and I itched to get up there and run my hands along the bookshelves. The tray ceiling was painted white, a giant gold-leaf medallion showcasing an enormous chandelier that spanned both floors.
“It’s breathtaking!” I murmured in awe.
“The ceiling is the only thing not original to the house,” he said. “It originally had a tin ceiling. I have an old photograph of it, and we’re trying to decide whether or not to recreate it.”
“Are you able to find period tiles similar to the ones the house had?” I asked, my eyes soaking in the massive fireplace. I’d done tin ceilings before and could get him in touch with someone if he hadn’t had any luck yet.
“We actually have all of the original tiles,” Brighton said, grinning. He stuffed his hands in his pockets while he looked around the room, as if trying to see it through my eyes.
“Get out!” I said, clapping my hands together. “That’s amazing! You have to!”
His eyes were fixated on mine, but I couldn’t read what he was thinking.
“I have to now,” he said.
I tried not to sound as breathless as I felt. “How come?”
He cleared his throat, looking away. “Because if it makes you this happy, imagine how excited buyers will be.”
“She deserves it,” I said, referring to the house.
“Yes, she does.”
The air was thicker than it had any business being. I needed to keep moving. I was starting to think he might be flirting with me. How stupid was that?
“How do you get upstairs?” I asked, ready to finish our tour and get back outside, where I could breathe easier.
“That’s the fun part,” he said, taking my hand. I wondered if he’d done the same with Ryan when he was giving him the tour. I giggled, not able to imagine something like that. Still, I clasped his hand back and let him drag me across the room to one of the many bookcases.
“So, we’re scaling them, then?” I asked, quirking my brow as I looked up at the tall shelves.
He laughed, drawing my eyes to his Adam’s apple as the warm, rich sound slid somewhere deep inside me—as if tucked into a hidden pocket so I could pull it out later to examine it closer.
“Nope,” he said, pressing a tiny button behind a book he moved. The bookshelf pivoted, swinging open to reveal a small room lined with more books, a narrow staircase leading up to the second floor.
“No way,” I said, my eyes wide as I turned to look at him. “Did you show Ryan this? He would flip.”
“We never made it up here,” he said honestly. “He’s mostly helping with some things downstairs, and since I wasn’t counting on renovating this room, I hadn’t thought to show him yet. I just knew you’d appreciate it from a design perspective.”
“Thank you. It’s incredible,” I said. “I didn’t realize Ryan was helping you. I mean, I know he’s been hanging out over here more, but I didn’t know he was doing actual work.”
“Yeah, he stopped by one afternoon to look around, and I found out he’s good with a sander. You can imagine the amount of woodworking projects we have with all this molding. Suckered him in to coming by a few times.”
It had been at least a year since I’d seen Ryan in his workshop in our detached two-car garage. Now suddenly he was over here, volunteering his time to restore someone else’s house. Why would he do that?
“It’s a huge project,” I said. “I imagine you’d appreciate all the help you can get.”
“Absolutely,” he said, his easy smile disarming.
It had been a long time since I looked at another man and noticed his good looks. But Brighton made it impossible not to.
“I can’t wait to see your design work,” he said.
“I think it’ll be a good fit and help sell it even faster,” I said, trying to focus less on his full lips and more on the reason why we were here. “Though, with a secret gem like this, I’m sure you’ll have buyers lined up.”
“Ready to go see it?”
“We can go all the way up?”
“That’s why I opened the magic door,” he said, winking at me.
I bit my lip, trying not to notice his square jaw, or piercing, pale green eyes—more aqua than seafoam, like I’d first thought. I skipped up the stairs to get some distance, curiosity steering my heart for the first time in months.
The top floor was every bit as magnificent, and maybe even more so. The small walkway circled the room below, just big enough for one person to browse through the floor-to-ceiling bookcases. The library was massive, and every shelf was still filled with classics and god only knew what else. I couldn’t imagine how long it took to curate so many books.
I walked the perimeter in awe, admiring the original woodwork while scanning the shelves at eye level. When I got halfway around, I glanced over to the door, realizing Brighton hadn’t followed me. Instead, he was leaning against the doorframe, looking devilishly handsome, his eyes trained on me.
Something passed between us, something that felt like an understanding. I knew he found me attractive, and I suspected he knew I felt the same. I would never act on it, of course, but even acknowledging an attraction toward another man felt like a betrayal to Ryan. So much can be said and read with just the eyes—no words ever needed to tell the whole story. Ryan and I had a lot of experience with that from our early years, when our affair was secret. The eyes held feelings one couldn’t speak from the heart.
As I held Brighton’s heated gaze across the room, I suspected he was reading more from my hear
t than I meant to share. He seemed to drink in my pain, and my loneliness. But I knew he also saw me as a desirable woman—not the broken one Ryan knew these days. If things were different, if I wasn’t a married woman, I would’ve given Brighton even more in that glance between us.
But I was, so I looked back to the books and finished my lap around the room as quickly as I could. “I should get going. Let you shower.”
“There’s still the whole top floor to show you.”
“Ryan’s waiting for me,” I said, making myself clear.
Brighton nodded, moving out of my way so I could head down. He walked me all the way to the front door, but when I started to open it, he put his hand over mine. I didn’t move, but I could feel the heat from his body he was so close.
“Tell me you still want me to come over for dinner, Liv,” he said, calling me by Ryan’s pet name.
I almost whimpered, tears threatening to rise to the surface. What had I done? I had no business looking at a man with the longing and desire I accidentally bared to Brighton. Maybe if he saw how happy Ryan and I were together, he would forget it ever happened.
I took a deep breath, steeling myself as I glanced over my shoulder at him. The man had confidence etched into his very DNA. His gaze softened as he backed up, dropping his arm from the door.
“I know Ryan would love to have you join us,” I said. “See you in fifteen?”
“Sure.”
As I darted across the yard to our house, I realized Brighton wasn’t the only one who would need to forget it ever happened.
Chapter 7
Ryan
I WATCHED LIV cut across the yards, though she hadn’t seen me out by the grill yet. What she missed, since she was so busy fleeing the Kerrington estate, was how Brighton watched her from the big picture window until she made it safely inside. I saw it though.
