by Jean Oram
But the pain of seeing Devon standing there reminded her just how powerfully devastating true love could be. How it could seep into every crevice of your soul, breaking it wide open when you failed.
And she didn’t have that with Luke.
Which meant he was safe. The perfect choice.
Love was dangerous and she knew she wasn’t strong enough to survive another heartbreak.
She should say yes to Luke. Protect herself from the pain of losing, the agony of being wounded if things didn’t work out.
She found herself out on the sidewalk, sucking in the warm mountain air, hands dug into her waist as if she’d just finish a mile-long sprint.
“You okay?” Devon asked, his deep voice unexpectedly gravelly and kind.
How could he even ask that?
She was fine. Her life was perfect. Couldn’t he see that?
She had moved on long ago, blotted him and how she’d behaved out of her every thought, scoured the heartache and pain from her soul. He had no right to act like he cared. She’d shattered their hearts when he hadn’t trusted her to make the best decision for the three of them, to be an adult and discard their idealistic dreams, face reality.
Not that it mattered. That was so long ago, and the universe had taken everything back, from Devon’s love to their unborn baby, forcing her to start over again.
And she had. She was now the head of public relations at Carrington Cosmetics and about to create an organic, all-natural cosmetic line that would ensure the health and safety of millions of women. No toxins, no more carcinogens.
Olivia did not look back. She did not lie awake at night regretting the way she’d ended things, worried about him. No. She’d made a plan and moved forward, knowing Devon Mattson was better off without her.
“Why have you come here?” she asked, her voice shaking as she focused on him again.
“You haven’t returned my calls.” He crossed his arms, his suit jacket straining over his biceps. He studied her in that intense way that had always made her feel as though he saw her. Not just her appearance, as everyone else did, but really saw her. It was unsettling.
His phone messages had said he wanted to talk about cosmetics, but what did he know about the business? Thanks to their common alma mater’s reunion update booklet she knew he was working as Blueberry Springs’s property manager. Exactly as he’d planned.
At one time she’d been a naive, starry-eyed woman in love for the first time, consumed by the fact that someone was in love with her as a person, and not the things that came with being an heiress, a model, The Face of Carrington Cosmetics. She’d actually thought she might follow Devon to his hometown, design wedding dresses, instead of take her outlined path into the heart of the family empire.
Thank goodness reality had given them a wake-up call, because she knew now that it wouldn’t have worked out.
Different worlds.
Insurmountable differences when it came to dealing with life.
She hadn’t been able to bring herself to call their intoxicating, whirlwind relationship a mistake or a lapse in judgment, because it hadn’t been. It had been every bit as real as her Gucci handbags and her Louis Vuitton sunglasses. No, it had been more a case that she hadn’t felt she was using her own volition when she was around him. He got under her skin, freed her mind and became the lift that caused her to fly on wings she had no right to even take out of the airport hangar.
And now he was here, after ten long years, hinting that he might have the very thing she’d been searching for.
“You’re not in the cosmetics industry,” she pointed out. She gave the cartoon character tie a pointed look. Devon was still that carefree, unaffected man, not a potential business partner.
“I can offer what you need,” he said.
“What I need?” Her heart thumped madly and she felt the sequined surface of her gown against her palms as she bunched the loose material in her hands, as if it could somehow anchor her.
“What Carrington Cosmetics needs,” he corrected.
She released the dress, crossing her own arms, her heart still racing. “Really?”
“Blueberry Springs can, yes.”
“I don’t see how a small mountain town in the middle of—”
“Send someone to Blueberry Springs this week and I’ll show them everything you need to make your proposed All You line a go. You need a stabilizing ingredient?”
“How did you hear about that?” She’d mentioned it to the press here and there, but how did he know? He lived on the opposite end of the continent and was supposed to be completely out of her life. Not following her in the news or whatever he was doing. And definitely not popping up at the dual company’s brainstorming retreat. “Why are you trying to help me?”
“This isn’t about you. Anyone at Carrington will do.”
She felt the sting of rejection even though it made absolute sense that he wouldn’t want to be anywhere near her. She finally allowed herself to truly look at him, to try and figure out his intentions. Devon Mattson was still lethally attractive. The hollows under his cheekbones were more pronounced now, giving him a honed handsomeness that she figured had landed him more than his fair share of admirers. The youthful muscular bulk she’d originally been drawn to had been replaced with a more refined, more virile manliness. And that humorous sparkle in his eyes she’d once adored was still there, although she also detected a tinge of sorrow and hurt.
Because of her.
“I don’t understand,” she said. “Why Carrington?”
“We’re only a few hours down the road,” he replied, “but what you need won’t be there for long.” Their eyes met, his uncharacteristically serious. “I’ll keep turning up all week until someone comes to check out this lead.”
“I won’t be coming to Blueberry Springs, so don’t bother interrupting me further unless you want to be banned from this hotel.” She tipped up her chin. Whatever it was he thought he had couldn’t possibly be worth ripping open old wounds, or giving each other the chance to blame the other for a romance that hadn’t been meant to last.
Besides, she knew her scientists had been thorough in their search. Yes, they believed the stabilizing answer was out there, but the odds that Devon had found it were incredibly slim. He was up to something. She was sure of it. But what? And why?
“I don’t expect you to come,” he reiterated lightly.
“Good.” Because she could feel him already pushing her life off the rails, interrupting Luke’s proposal and causing members of the company’s board to speculate about the two of them. She needed Devon out of here. “Carrington isn’t interested.”
I’m not interested.
She turned to reenter the grand hotel, feeling off balance, and his hand brushed hers as he beat her to the door, opening it. She flinched at the contact, at the jolt of warmth that filled her from his touch. She was close enough she could feel the heat from his taut frame and she found herself wondering if he’d traded in the white tees that used to stretch across his chest, and thrown out the tattered old Converse sneakers that had taken him so many miles.
Not that it mattered. Devon Mattson was from her past and that’s where he had to stay. She didn’t need reminders of how she’d failed them both, how she hadn’t been strong enough and had ultimately broken their hearts.
“Send someone to Blueberry Springs,” he said evenly, not breaking eye contact. “I guarantee you’ll find exactly what you’ve been searching for.”
As Olivia returned to the banquet, she had a chilling suspicion that Devon Mattson was not going to remain in her past where he belonged, but was going to upset her entire life once again.
2
On Saturday morning Devon rounded the corner to his house, waving goodbye to the town’s only lawyer, who’d joined him for the last quarter of Devon’s weekly half-marathon-length run. Devon was drenched in sweat and ready to take his dog out for the final mile—a nice cool-down in the late morning sun. Afte
r that he’d hit the shower, before trying once again to convince his ex-girlfriend that it was in her company’s best interest to add a little industry and employment to his hometown while saving it from a hydroelectric dam, which was slated to destroy several local hikes as well as the town’s familiar landscape in a matter of weeks.
His heart sank at the idea of facing her, and feeling the pain, once again. Hers had been floating there, fully evident to him, bringing his own to the surface. It was almost too much to handle.
But all he needed was one quick deal. He could stomach a few minutes of pain to help people who mattered to him.
And if Olivia did decide Blueberry Springs was worth checking out, she’d send a minion so the two of them wouldn’t have to face each other again. Win-win.
He just had to convince her to send someone.
As Devon drew closer to his house, his feet slowed and his heart rate picked up. He might not have to make the drive, after all, seeing as in front of his little two-bedroom home was a silver Porsche Cayenne. He knew only one person with a love of that specific color and model.
And it wasn’t one of Olivia’s minions.
She’d personally come to Blueberry Springs. Not what he’d expected. Heavy dread weighed on Devon at the same time a swirl of relief swept through him.
As far as he could figure, her quick arrival meant one of two things. She was either desperate for product help or… Well, that was probably all it could mean, seeing as he was fairly certain her father had set up roadblocks against her coming here. And given their past, as well as a decade of silence, they weren’t exactly searching each other out for anything beyond career-related desperation or last ditch attempts.
Plus, she’d likely come in person because she didn’t want any of her minions touching him with a ten-foot pole. She’d kicked him out of her life because he didn’t make the “Carrington cut,” as he liked to call it, and he’d be a fool to believe his status had changed. So she was here because she was desperate to see what he’d found, and she wanted to minimize how much of her life he could taint.
He could live with that.
Olivia was tapping her phone’s screen, her charcoal-gray dress pants making her legs look impossibly long. Or maybe that was the effect of her killer heels combined with her purposeful walk as she came to greet him. She gave a definitive nod, not meeting his eyes. “Devon.”
She was uncomfortable and didn’t know what to expect. Ditto for him on that account.
“You came.” He was unable to keep the surprise from his voice.
“Despite what you think, my parents don’t run my life.”
He bit back his reply, knowing that they once had—to the point of helping her shut Devon completely out of a life that he had more claim to than they did. He’d held it against her during their breakup, and obviously she had a good memory.
“That’s awesome. So how’d you find my house?”
“I don’t have a lot of time. Shall we?” Her mouth was set in a stern line, so much like her domineering father that Devon did a quick reassessment. She was no longer the young woman he’d once kept hovering on the brink of laughter. Now she was shutting him out, trying to hide her hurt behind walls thicker than any he’d ever seen.
He’d done that to her.
But she’d done the same to him.
He supposed in some ways it almost made them even.
“It was a four hour drive and I want to be back for supper.” She squeezed a hand around her smart phone, her once kind, soft brown eyes uncharacteristically closed and shuttered.
Wow. Talk about walls.
Devon couldn’t help glancing at her ring finger. Still bare.
Not that he cared. It was just easier to make a deal with his ex without a potentially jealous new fiancé in the background.
“Let me shower and I’ll show you everything.” He resisted the urge to waggle his eyebrows and make an innuendo.
He opened his front door and his golden retriever, Copter, bounded out, knowing it was his turn to run.
Copter went straight to Olivia and sat on her feet, gazing up with his soulful eyes. She looked startled, then reached down to gingerly pet the dog’s big head. The canine collapsed onto his back to reveal his vulnerable underbelly.
The traitor. Didn’t Copter sense she shouldn’t be trusted?
Devon whistled, bringing him back into the house. Inside Olivia’s Porsche a dog appeared at the open window, barking once before hanging its shaggy head over the glass, its crooked bottom teeth jutting up over its top lip. Wow. That was one ugly mutt and not at all the type of pet he’d ever imagine Olivia owning.
“Nice dog,” Devon said to her, closing the door on Copter so he wouldn’t get it in his head to go say hello to the smaller animal and scratch Olivia’s car in the process.
Devon wasn’t poor, but he had no desire to spend money on a new paint job for someone else.
He pulled his damp shirt off his pecs and stomach, then, without thinking, tugged the garment over his head, leaving his chest bare in the June breeze.
“Come on in for a coffee while I rinse off,” he told Olivia.
Her gaze was stuck to his chest, her cheeks pink. She turned away, her movements jerky. He glanced down. He was cut, he admitted. Worked out almost daily—swimming, running. He’d forgotten how she used to admire his muscular chest, the broadness of his shoulders, the bulk of his biceps. It was cute that he still affected her. The new crisp, serious Olivia still found him attractive.
That made him inexplicably pleased.
He flexed for her with a grin. She was dutifully avoiding looking anywhere near his chest.
Aw. Life was supposed to be fun. So much of it was beyond one’s control—why fight it? There was enough sadness and anger in the world already. People needed to let go, enjoy the ride and live a little. The hurt would never leave, but you could distract yourself from it for a while.
“I’ll wait in my car with my dog. Thank you.”
“It’s welcome inside. I also have a fenced backyard.”
He caught sight of someone coming down the sidewalk and groaned inwardly. Mary Alice Bernfield. If anyone could mess this up for Devon—besides himself—it was the town’s biggest gossip.
Sure, he wanted to slip past Olivia’s walls like a ghost, but Mary Alice would use dynamite, not caring what the consequences were. She loved people, loved secrets, and considered herself a helpful soul. And mostly, she was. But sometimes…sometimes she was a bit tough to take.
“Come on in, both of you,” he coaxed Olivia.
“We’re fine here, thank you,” she replied primly.
He nudged his chin in the direction of the approaching woman, and said casually, “Suit yourself. But I should warn you that around here people wait inside unless they have a gossip-worthy reason not to. You know, such as stalking.” He raised his brows, expecting Olivia to give in. She had an image to keep, after all, and he’d put good money on her not wanting to tarnish it with some wildfire gossip in a small town she might need to work with.
Then again, she might not realize that her flashy car and fancy attire—ugly mutt of a dog aside—said things. A lot of things, considering all the irons he was currently wielding in an attempt to save Blueberry Springs.
“I’m sure she’ll find out everything she wants to know about you in the time it takes me to shower.” He winked at Olivia, figuring that would get her bounding up the steps to his house. Even if he was shirtless.
“I’m trained to handle people,” Olivia said, hands on her hips.
Nuts.
She was that uncomfortable around him. He got it, he really did. Especially with him poking at her. But they needed to cooperate here.
Meanwhile, Mary Alice had not only seen Olivia, but had increased her pace. The woman possessed a bloodhound’s ability to sniff out romantic backstory tidbits, scandals and the like. She was insatiably curious, and Olivia stood out like a new story to be told—especially when she kept
flashing pained looks in Devon’s direction. There were fewer than last night. Olivia seeming to have tucked most of her discomfort behind the walls of Miss Businesswoman today. But there was still the odd bit that made it past the gates, and Devon knew Mary Alice would latch on to it like a treed cat in a hurricane.
“Hey, Mary Alice. Nice day, isn’t it?” he called as she bustled up to them. Maybe he could outtalk her, spin her off her rails. Act as a human shield, so Olivia didn’t go running before he had a chance to save the town.
“Hello, Devon.” The woman stopped a few feet from Olivia, making her dog bark.
“Where’s your dog?” Devon asked Mary Alice. “Walking without him? He’s going to know you left without him and pee all over the carpet.”
She ignored him, her focus locked on Olivia. “Now, who is this beautiful woman and why have you been keeping her from us?”
Olivia shushed her dog, while giving Mary Alice a strained smile. “Olivia Carrington.” She held out her hand, crisply shaking Mary Alice’s. “Pleasure to meet you.”
“Oh, you must be from the big city, with those lovely manners and those gorgeous pants. Look at how they hang.”
“Thank you,” Olivia said politely.
“You must be busy, with all the tourists in town. All that extra gossip,” Devon said to Mary Alice. She ran the local convenience store, which seemed to be an excellent hub for gathering morsels that didn’t come from her sister, Liz Moss-Brady, also a gossip, as well as a reporter for the local paper.
“I have extra help,” Mary Alice replied, and Olivia backed away slightly, unconsciously toying with her necklace as the curious woman began scrutinizing her features. “You look very familiar. Have you been to Blueberry Springs before?”
“Mary Alice, when are you going to race me around the old paddock track? I bet that little SUV of yours goes like greased snot.”
The woman gave a deep laugh, the sound rough and rich from her prior years of smoking, her large chest bouncing. “I’ll leave that to younger, more foolish kids—such as yourself. I love that little car too much to put it through such abuse.”
