by Jean Oram
She lengthened her stride, nearly twisting an ankle yet again. The parking lot had filled with protesters, not just hikers as she’d assumed earlier. They were chanting and holding banners high and pretty much the last thing she needed to top her morning—especially since she was pretty sure the guy toting a camera was from the media.
Devon came up alongside her, his eyes sweeping her outfit. “This might not go well. These guys have been camping out and protesting every slight against nature ever since the possibility of the dam being approved was announced several weeks ago.”
“They don’t scare me.” She stormed ahead.
“Greenhouses could be made,” he said uneasily, falling back into his sales pitch. “The plants like this climate, our soil. Jill says this variety is different from the rest. I really think this is something Carrington could use. Are you sure you want to walk through this crowd?”
She glanced at the protesters. So far they were just marching around the parking lot. Nobody was chained to anything. No riot police. All was well, in other words.
“Who’s Jill?” She hated that she was curious for reasons that might not be business-related.
“She’s been working with the Ute people and developing a few of her own products for the local market.”
“Oh, so you’re looking to pitch a product for your girlfriend? That’s why I’m here? We’re not interested.”
What a sucker she was. Allowing herself to be dragged out here so he could pitch some homemade products his lady love had concocted. It probably gave people incurable rashes and smelled like Devon’s gym bag. Or worse, Mr. Right.
No, that wasn’t fair. Olivia was just so angry with herself.
For this she’d missed a full day of activities at the company retreat and was still lacking the magical ingredient that would lift All You off the ground. Plus she was going to have to deal with Luke while in a terribly bad mood.
No, she wanted to deal with Luke. He would brighten her mood. He was lovely and wonderful and never stirred up her emotions. He was perfect.
She was going to say yes. Definitely.
He was the best thing out there.
“I’m not pitching a product,” Devon said, his earlier cheer gone. “All I’m saying is that she has a lot of knowledge in this department and can help you out if you’d be a little less hardheaded and more open-minded. There are other options besides whatever you’ve planned.”
She noticed he hadn’t corrected her on the girlfriend assumption.
And, she could tell by his dig about her plans, that he still didn’t understand why she’d had to shut him out all those years ago.
What had she expected? Him to be sitting here, pinning for her a whole decade later? Ha! It wasn’t like she’d lain awake thinking about him or their past, either, and wondering what-if.
She narrowed her eyes, hands on her hips, facing off. “Go ahead and insult me and fight old battles, Devon. Get it all out of your system, because your little town does not have what I need—what Carrington needs—and so I’m leaving.”
“What else is new?”
She glared at him.
Up ahead, the protesters yelled about the dam, drowning out the sounds of the nearby river. She wished she’d risked her paint job and driven her Porsche out here so she wouldn’t be dependent on Devon for a ride back into town.
“Olivia,” he said, his tone contrite now, “you’re not even trying to see the possibilities.”
She spun toward him. “Be realistic, Devon. Being a dreamer isn’t going to make this work and both you and I know it. This is real life!”
“It can work,” he said stubbornly, his jaw set. “Call your scientists.”
“And tell them what?”
“To check into it. Jill says it’s a reliable stabilizing agent. Completely safe.”
Completely safe.
Olivia struggled against her anger, her urge to throw up barriers and shut him out.
She needed this and she’d never forgive herself if she walked away from the right ingredient just because Devon was getting under her skin. She was bigger and better than that.
“Fine. But I’m sure they’ll tell you they already did.” She pulled out her phone, punched a number, then looked at the device in surprise when it wouldn’t connect. “There’s no cell signal.”
“There’s better service in town.”
She began marching again. “Fine. I’ll inform my people that a property manager and his girlfriend say we didn’t check every strain of valerian on earth. Happy?”
“Yes.” He kept up with her, pulling a piece of paper from his pocket and handing it to her. “This is the local name for the meadow’s variety of valerian. And after we talk to Jill we can dig up a plant for you. For testing.”
Olivia snatched the paper. “Fine.”
She could handle this. Another hour of being around him? No problem. She was strong. Totally past him and their relationship. She was a professional. An important employee of Carrington Cosmetics. Spending more time with Devon would only reinforce all the reasons she’d made those impossible decisions all those years ago.
She mentally dusted her hands as they reached the edge of the parking lot. Closure. That’s what they were going to get.
A protester came closer and she smiled and said hello.
“The Face!” he yelled, recognizing her from one of the hundreds of ads she’d been in promoting her family’s products. He pointed at her, hollering, “Down with Carrington Cosmetics! Down with the use of p-Phenylenediamine! Down with packaging not made from recycled materials! Protect our planet!”
As Olivia gaped in surprise, the chant picked up volume and speed as more people recognized her and joined in. They definitely knew the environmental hotspots Olivia was currently working on, from toxins that hurt aquatic life to nonsustainable packaging and ingredients.
She looked at Devon, wondering if he’d set her up. He appeared pale but determined as he slipped in front of her like a shield, as they continued to shout.
“Hey, now,” he said mildly. “Be kind. She’s only trying to help Blueberry Springs and the environment.”
The cameraman Olivia had noted earlier took a few shots of her and Devon.
“I agree! Carrington needs to do better,” she said over his shoulder. He was edging her back toward the meadow and she pushed forward. It wasn’t the first time she’d come across protesters. She could take care of herself. “That’s why I’m here. I’m looking into developing organic, all-natural cosmetics. Carrington cares about the earth, sustainability and its customers!”
“Down with big corporations, raping the land!”
Why did she even bother? There was always something. Three years ago it had been that their models were too skinny—one of the models being herself, a size fourteen, and her sister, who was slim, yes, but not unhealthily so.
Some days it made Olivia wish for an easier life. One without so many people or…well, definitely without this kind of irrational confrontation.
Now she was going to have to write up a press release to combat this bad PR. Reactive releases were the worst—she always felt so dirty, trying to redirect the public’s attention and smooth over legitimate concerns such as these. But the worst was that she was going to have to deal with her father, who had told her not to come and would no doubt scold her about her All You “hobby.”
“Stop the dam! Stop Carrington!”
Devon kept deflecting angry people when they got too close, and she muttered to him, “This town is crazy.”
Using his body to block others from getting too close, Devon maneuvered them the final few feet to safety, Olivia’s hands gripping his strong shoulders. She managed to get into the car, her body shaking with adrenaline. That was intense. Too intense. What was with this town? First Mary Alice and now this. A decade ago, Devon had painted her a picture of a peaceful town. She’d seen glimpses of that as they drove through earlier, but this was nowhere near idyllic.
She stared out at the triumphant faces shouting through the windshield as Mr. Right went wild, barking, growling and racing around the backseat, sending Devon’s things to the floor.
“You okay?” Devon asked as he climbed in.
She nodded.
This wasn’t going to stop her. Women like her grandmother, who had been affected by years of exposure to the chemicals found in cosmetics, deserved change, and Olivia was one of the few people who could make it happen.
It was time to make a difference and it was up to her.
Devon checked over his shoulder, taking an extra second to look way down the road to ensure they weren’t being followed. The protesters camping out in Blueberry Springs had been right up in Olivia’s face, unlike anything he’d seen to date, and his body still surged with a protective need to react. He was already toeing a very fine line with her thanks to Mary Alice—although Olivia had truly taken it like a champ—and he feared that any further kind of confrontation would give her an excuse to walk away from a potential deal. Assuming he was right, and not a dreamer like she’d said, and the valerian was all his ex-girlfriend Jill Armstrong had claimed.
“They protest the dam almost every weekend, and since the building project will be undergoing the expedited approval process in less than two weeks, they seem to be ramping up,” he explained.
“They weren’t receptive to Carrington.” Her dog crawled into the front, settling in Olivia’s lap even though he was a bit big for it. He growled under his breath, still stirred up from the protesters. She cuddled the mutt and it let out a horrid smell. Both Olivia and Devon reached to crack the windows. It was not the kind of pet he ever expected someone like Olivia to have, that was for certain.
“I’m sure once they understand what you’re trying to do for the town—”
“Except my scientists have already checked into valerian.”
“—they’ll lighten up and start giving you patchouli-scented hugs instead of banging on the hood of the car.” He tried for a smile. Let her know that he, at least, was on her company’s side.
“And what exactly am I trying to do for the town?” she asked, eyes narrowing as she looked up from sending a text that had hardened her expression. Her dog gave her chin a reassuring lick and her fingers trembled as they hovered over the phone’s screen.
She seemed calm, but the confrontation had definitely shaken her. Devon had to do something. If she walked…
He needed to lighten things up. A lot.
“Maybe we should stop for a drink or something? Take a breather?”
“Didn’t you say there’s a meeting? My scientists want to know more.”
Devon absorbed that tidbit. He mentally high-fived Jill for her find. There was definitely something to be said for amicable breakups and staying friends with an ex.
“And what exactly is your vision for Carrington?” Olivia asked.
This was all going to be perfect. He’d save the meadow and ranching lowlands from the dam and he’d bring along more industry and jobs. “The upcoming new mayor will be receptive to Carrington and will—”
“What are the town’s expectations, Devon?”
He sighed. She was all about the business, wasn’t she? He still saw flickers of hurt in her big brown eyes, but those walls she’d arrived with proved to be sturdy and reliable. Impenetrable. She was putting him and their past behind her in order to do her job for the family company.
Respect. That was the word he was looking for. He respected that.
Then again, her family had always come first. Not him.
Still, even if he did respect her work ethic and ability to shove everything into the past where it belonged, it didn’t mean he had to trust her or forgive what she’d done to him back then.
But they could probably work together without anyone being charged for murder. And that was always a plus.
“Industry. Jobs,” he said. “A small tax break for local businesses, since they won’t have to carry the entire load for things such as civic improvements. The usual.” He shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, even though he knew those few things could have a major impact on the small, isolated town and wouldn’t make a dent in the bottom line of a company Carrington’s size. Not only that, it would save his sister’s café and his brother’s three small businesses from death by taxes.
“So you expect Carrington to pay big taxes and hire tons of locals?”
“Will you?” he asked hopefully, his tone light.
“After you just handed me a PR nightmare back there? You really suck at this.”
“The protesters are mostly harmless. They were just being difficult.”
“I deal with difficult people every day. That was pure crazy.”
“In regards to difficult people, are you referring to your father or your PR job?”
The corners of her mouth almost turned up. Almost.
He considered it a win. She wanted this as bad as he did. That was why she was here.
Man, that was a relief.
“And hey, I got to play hero to a damsel in distress.” He waggled his eyebrows and she folded her arms across her chest, causing Awesome Dog to nudge her for affection.
“I was not a damsel in distress.”
Devon smiled. “Most women swoon over that kind of stuff, you know.”
Her glare deepened, but he saw a flicker of her old self in another hint of a held-back smile. He could win her over. And he would.
He found a place to park near his sister’s café despite parking being tighter than usual due to the startup of a ten-day music festival his overly pregnant friend Nicola Samuels—now Haber—had organized. He shut off his car’s engine and patted the dusty dash, as was his habit whenever it successfully got him from point A to point B.
Olivia was texting again and he took the opportunity to send a quick text of his own to his friend Logan Stone, who dealt with private security. It wouldn’t be a bad idea for Olivia to have a shadow, with the protesters acting so volatile. Just in case.
Devon told himself he wanted her protected for the town’s sake, not some messed-up personal reason.
“We’re going to talk to Jill about this strain of valerian?” he confirmed, slipping his phone in his pocket.
Olivia nodded and waved her device. “I have a list of questions. We’d also like five complete plants to take back to the lab. Roots and all.”
“Consider it done.”
“My scientists want to personally dig them up, as well as take tests while collecting environmental data.”
“Okay.”
Demands meant progress. Progress meant hope.
“But that’s only if they’re satisfied with what I learn in this meeting.”
“Of course.” The tightness in his chest eased off.
Things were going as well as could be expected. And the two of them? Downright civil for people who hadn’t spoken in a decade. He didn’t even foresee the need for a protective cup to cover his family jewels, nor the impending misfortune of waking up to find she’d placed his head on a spike at the gates of her company.
He was going to win this one.
But even so, he knew he couldn’t fully relax, couldn’t trust that she had his or his town’s best interests at heart—not when she had proved in the past that hers and those of her family always came first.
3
Olivia watched Devon as he waited for a pickup truck to lumber by his parked car, coughing exhaust as it went. He’d almost made her smile, poking fun at things, warming her, subtly coaxing her to let down her guard. But she couldn’t. She already felt herself on the precipice of being won over by him, which would only lead to disaster. She just wasn’t strong enough. Never had been. She could not allow herself to slip into a position where she might hurt him again—especially if this valerian was The One. Too much was on the line.
Through the car window she saw a bright red Closing Sale sign on a shop. Another hint of how much the town needed Carrington?
>
She smiled. She was starting to think like her father. It used to bother her how he kept the bottom line in mind for every business dealing, but now she understood the reasoning behind doing so, even if it yielded a certain heartlessness. When you were negotiating something important, you had to keep your eye out for whatever might help or hinder.
She scooted Mr. Right into the backseat, then told him to stay as she gathered her purse and went to let herself out of the car. As the door clicked open, the handle came loose in her grasp. She heaved a sigh, climbed out and marched toward Devon, who was waiting on the sidewalk, texting someone. She waved the handle at him. “Seriously, Devon. It’s called buy a new car. It smells and it’s falling apart.”
He took the metal object from her. “It’s called you break it, you buy it.”
Oh, he’d love that, wouldn’t he?
“And your dog smells worse than the car,” he added.
“He can’t help it and you said the handle was finicky. That means it was already broken.”
“Then…” he paused, his expression playful “…it’s called don’t break my car, it’s paid for.” He opened the clunker’s back door and tossed the handle inside before slamming it shut again, causing Mr. Right to let out a bark of alarm.
Nothing fazed Devon, did it? Nothing mattered. Nothing broke through the “it’ll all work out” idyllic dream he lived in whether discussing an ill-timed pregnancy or a falling-apart vehicle. He didn’t even dress like a proper adult. He was outfitted as if he was about to help paint someone’s house in his faded jeans—faded beyond fashion. How did anyone take him seriously as the town’s property manager when he walked around on weekends looking like the town’s maintenance man?
“Don’t look at me like that,” Devon said lightly, as he reached for the door of a restaurant that claimed to be for sale, and held it open for her. “There are things more important than money and appearances, you know.”
