by Jean Oram
She relaxed a tad and lifted her phone, checking for a signal. None. She probably had an email from her lawyers by now. Beyond her phone she noticed someone sitting in a black vehicle on the other side of the lot, with several cars between them. From his profile the man looked a lot like Logan Stone.
She stepped closer to take a better look and her cell rang, making her jump. She froze so she wouldn’t lose the signal, not even daring to check caller ID as she slowly lifted the phone to her ear.
“Hello, Olivia Carrington,” she said crisply.
“Princess, how are things going? Is Vintra there yet?” The connection was tinny, with a slight delay that created an echo in the line, making her father sound light years away. “The lawyers said you requested access rights and first right of refusal? I tried to call you.”
“The cell service is horrible here.”
“I told you not to buy that phone. There are better ones on the market.”
“I don’t think it’s the—”
“And run all agreements by me first. My money, my company,” he said, repeating a mantra he’d said nearly a thousand times. She’d once asked her late grandma to cross-stitch that on a throw pillow for her father. Her grandma had thought it was hilarious, but hadn’t managed to find the time to complete it before she became ill. “I approved it, but next time I won’t. I demand to be kept in the loop. On everything.”
“Yes, Daddy. I’m sorry.” It was her pet project and he’d said he was giving her full rein. Sure, he’d been looking over her shoulder the entire time, but she hadn’t expected him to get twisted up about a simple agreement protecting them, which would cost nothing but a few hundred in lawyers’ fees. Her monthly mani-pedis probably cost more. “Vintra’s here.”
“Will you be back in time for tonight’s supper?”
Olivia was surprised by her knee-jerk reaction to say no. The idea of dressing up and having meaningless chitchat felt stifling right now, and so far from where she wanted to be at the moment, even though she craved some distance from Devon. She hedged, saying, “It depends on the results.” A breeze picked up and Olivia held on to her floppy hat, reveling in the cool air against her skin.
“Well, tell Vintra to hurry it up, I want my daughter back for dinner. Luke needs to talk to you.”
She sucked in a slow breath. Luke. She’d forgotten to call him back. How had she managed that? It was like she was in a whole different world out here, barely connected to anything back in her real life.
Was that the Devon Effect impacting her once again?
“Tell him I’m fine.”
Her father said something she didn’t catch. She moved her head slightly, hoping it would improve the reception.
“Hello? Are you still there?”
“I said I didn’t send you off to complete your business degree at Harvard so you could ignore your job helping the company with its image. I can’t see any reason why you need to stay for testing. You’re in PR, not product development, and this retreat needs you.”
“I think it would be wise for me to be here,” she said weakly. Yesterday’s little flare-up with the protesters seemed like a one-off, but it had managed to make a few news articles, which had been collected by her assistant in her morning task of rounding up any mention of Carrington’s in the media. She was guessing the tidbit hadn’t made it as far as her father yet or he’d be demanding she return to the retreat immediately.
Which was ridiculous. She was in her thirties. She’d proved herself. She should be allowed to feel as though she was truly in charge.
Her father was uncharacteristically silent.
“Are you still there? Because, Daddy, if Vintra’s tests come back positive we could be in the running for something really major for Carrington. We could change lives.” She could actually back their products without that gnawing feeling in her gut as though she was lying to the world whenever she said Carrington Cosmetics couldn’t be safer. Because their products could. Almost all products could.
“Change lives?” he asked.
“Change our market share, Daddy.”
She could put her mark on a creation. Feel like she’d made a difference, even if it was a teeny one. Saving one woman from getting sick from their cosmetics would make it all worthwhile. Save one life. How many people could claim that?
“Our market share could be improved by a union between Carrington Cosmetics and Cohen Body Bliss,” he said pointedly. “Try to be back for supper.”
“Yes, Daddy.” The line crackled.
“Pardon me?”
“Yes, Dad—”
“Give me the number where you’re staying in case I need to get hold of you.”
Olivia froze, then thought better of it and took a few steps back to where she’d been standing earlier, while saying, “Sorry, Daddy. I can’t hear you. Are you still there?”
Nope. Lost him.
She should feel guilty about that.
Her father had always been protective, but had become overtly so after her breakup with Devon, taking charge of her life in a lot of ways. She could only imagine how bothered he’d be if he knew she’d stayed with Devon last night. In fact, if he knew just how big of a part Devon was playing in the deal she was potentially making…well, he wouldn’t be very happy about that, either.
Clouds rolled overhead, feeling refreshing after the heat of the sun, and she put her sunhat in the car and stretched. People were hurrying back from their hikes as though late for something important. The music festival perhaps?
Vintra waved at her from far across the meadow, then cupped his hands around his mouth as he hollered something she couldn’t make out. She closed the car doors, ensuring the windows were cracked enough for Mr. Right, and grumbling, maneuvered herself in her high heels to the edge of the lot to holler back. The wind had picked up, taking their words with it.
She gave up as he continued to beckon to her, and began the delicate process of tiptoeing across the soft ground in her heels. Cold air swept down from the mountains with surprising speed. She’d been too hot in her suit jacket a few minutes ago and now was wishing she hadn’t left it on the hood of her car.
When she was within earshot of Vintra he asked, “Do we have permission to remove a plant? Like, can I dig up a few, roots and all?”
She lifted her phone to the sky, looking for a signal. None, of course.
“He didn’t protest when I brought it up.” She had no way of confirming permission with Devon, but they were under a time crunch. Surely he’d understand if they went ahead. “Go for it. I mentioned five to him, so that should be okay, and I’ll take any heat if we dug in the wrong spot or something.”
She felt a twinge of guilt about going ahead, but what else could she do?
Vintra stood, stretching his back. “This meadow is crazy populated with these flowers. You say it’s going to be destroyed?”
She nodded.
He shook his head regretfully. “If we had more time we could harvest half the seeds to start in greenhouses, leaving the rest here for repopulation. Although splitting the plants and taking roots would be best.”
“The proposed dam is going to sweep all this away before any seeds are ready. But maybe we could split the plants?” And put them where, exactly? She needed more time. She needed Devon to win the election, needed to preserve the meadow.
Maybe she could create a blend between the now Devon and a more mature Devon, so he’d look more like a real candidate. Did a mature Devon include a wife-to-be? Ginger’s idea seemed crazy, but it could actually work. Nobody wanted a reckless bachelor in charge of their town. But a man settling down was a different matter.
“I want to do a lot more tests. Soil, DNA…” Vintra said. “There’s got to be a reason this strain hasn’t grown rampant across the continent.”
“We’re going to need a lot of these plants every year. Any ideas on how to guarantee supply?”
He leaned against his shovel. “Maybe set up a covered structur
e in a meadow like this one to work on some in the wild. Then test seeds in a climate-controlled greenhouse closer to the factories.”
That would still make them dependent on Blueberry Springs. Everything kept bringing her back, tying her to Devon’s hometown.
Not fair.
Vintra squatted beside a thick bunch of plants.
“I’ll ask the lawyers to add a possible plant splitting clause to the agreement, assuming I ever get cell service again.” She checked her phone once more. Nothing. She added the clause to her mental to-do list, along with returning Luke’s call.
Vintra handed her a bucket and a shovel. “Looks like a rain shower’s coming. Better get digging so we don’t get drenched.”
She glanced at her shoes with the pretty little toe bows, and with a shrug of resignation, tucked her phone away and ruined another pair of perfectly good heels.
Olivia was soaked through from the rain, muddy from head to toe, her shoes destroyed, her legs tired from struggling through the muck in her inappropriate footwear. If her sister saw her now she’d howl with laughter.
But what could she do? While out in the middle of the meadow the skies had opened up, turning the earth under her and Vintra into an instant quagmire. Olivia had fallen more than once on her way back to the car, the mud sucking at her feet with each step like a hungry monster.
All she wanted was a cup of creamy coffee and a hot shower. And fresh clothes. She glanced back to see how Vintra was doing. It looked as if he’d finished up and was on his way back to the almost-empty lot. In fact, there were only four cars left. Hers, Vintra’s, the one she’d thought she’d seen Logan in earlier and a black sedan, idling behind her Cayenne.
Trouble, in other words. Was it her father coming to “rescue” her? Or was it something worse?
A man stepped from the sedan and raised an umbrella. He wore khakis and a button-down shirt. Mr. Right began barking inside her car, throwing himself against the glass.
Strike one for the man. Her dog despised him already.
“Barry Lunn,” the man said, as she approached Vintra’s car with two buckets containing valerian plants. “Mayor of Blueberry Springs.” He put out his hand to shake hers, but seeing they were muddy, dropped his. He was full of smiles. Too many smiles.
“Pleasure to meet you. I’m Olivia Carrington with Carrington Cosmetics. It’s a pleasure to be in Blueberry Springs. Such a pretty town you have here.”
Barry Lunn smiled, oozing smarm and smugness. No wonder Devon didn’t like him—and not just because he seemed to lack the manners to share his umbrella, something Devon would have done.
“You’re working with Devon Mattson,” Barry asked. “Is that correct?”
“He’s brought me here, yes,” she said, hoisting the plants into the Toyota’s open trunk before slamming it closed. “I think Carrington and Blueberry Springs could become prosperous partners.”
“You found what you came for then?” He seemed intrigued, but in a way that made her not trust him, and she wasn’t sure why.
“Possibly. We’re not sure yet,” she said honestly. Vintra was 98 percent certain, but she’d rather hold her cards close to her chest for now.
Rain was dripping off her nose and she shivered from the chill. She moved to her own car, hoping to find an umbrella, since it would likely be too rude to do what she really wanted, which was to blow Barry off and destroy her fine leather seats with her wet self, pumping up the car’s heat until she felt human again.
She wiped her hands on her dress and opened the door.
“Oh, where are my manners?” Barry asked, invading her personal space as he tried to share his umbrella at long last.
“It’s fine. I have one.” Olivia found her own umbrella, noting that the seats of her car were now wet from the windows she’d left cracked for her dog. She struggled to keep him in the car while closing the door again.
“Devon gave you permission to dig in the meadow?” Barry looked at her pointedly and she opened her umbrella toward him, forcing him back, before primly placing the shelter over her head. She felt better already.
“Yes, we’re testing a few plants.” She turned slightly, then, as if on second thought, added, “I’m sorry, did you need something or were you just coming to say hello?”
Barry gave her a smile she was certain he meant to be disarming. It likely worked on most people. People who didn’t grow up around fakeness and hadn’t developed a radar for it. It was one of the things she liked most about Ginger and Devon—they never did “fake.” It wasn’t even a possibility for them.
“Did Devon tell you a dam will be bulldozing, then flooding this meadow next week?” Barry’s tone was light and she could tell he was trying to get her on his side, assuming Devon hadn’t been straight-up with her.
Divide and conquer. It made her want to team up with Devon all the more.
“Yes, it’s come to my attention. I was hoping to speak with you about that.”
“The dam is already slated. Everything is in place and awaiting final approval.”
“I understand.” She paused, letting the silence grow between them, hoping he’d come up with a compromise that would suit them both. Because if he could do that, she’d have two eggs in her basket. Devon winning. Barry helping.
He gave a small shrug as if to say “What can I do?”
He was going to be a tough sell, that was for sure. But how could he not see that it was in his best interests to work with Carrington? What harm would it do to have another corporation helping Blueberry Springs with taxes and infrastructure costs?
“As mayor, I’m sure you’re interested in working with companies that could help increase employment and tax revenue.” She kept her tone light, inquiring and sweet, trying to worm her way into his good graces. “Carrington is a very—”
“Our town is doing fine, thank you. I hope Devon hasn’t misled you into thinking we’re in trouble.” His tone was meant to be disarming, but all she heard was condescension.
She’d seen the business closing signs, tax sales and more. This wasn’t a town that was thriving and she had a pretty good idea why.
Time for a different approach, figure out why he was so set against Carrington. Was it her? Was it Devon? She guessed it was the latter, his direct competition for the mayoral seat.
“I like Devon’s campaign platform. He really seems to care a lot about the town,” Olivia murmured.
“Unfortunately, he’s not the forerunner, and right now the town is chock-full of commitments to other companies. I’m sorry he’s wasted your time, but there’s no room for your business in Blueberry Springs. Maybe another year,” Barry said, his voice low as though he was confiding, as though he actually cared enough to let her down easy. He tried to reach around her to open her car door for her.
She held her ground, anger starting a slow burn. “You know, I think he could take this election. He gives people hope. They know he’s on their side and is willing to do whatever it takes to help.”
Barry’s kind expression grew hard.
Yeah, he was not someone she wanted to work with. At all.
Time to find out what he really thought, so she knew what they were up against.
She smiled innocently. “I’ll bet if I gave him a few PR tips he could do really well. He does care about this town and that’s one thing you can’t dress up or fake.”
“He’s nothing but a kid. A bleeding heart.”
“It’s one of the things I like best about him, actually.” And it was true. Despite all the things about him that drove her mad, he’d once been the most supportive, caring person in her life aside from her grandmother.
A car drove around Barry’s, so slowly that Olivia glanced over. Logan, looking somber, was sizing them up. He stopped his vehicle and Barry moved to his own. As he bent to get in, he delivered his parting shot. “Your company isn’t needed in Blueberry Springs, Miss Carrington.”
He slammed the door and started his car, impatiently wavi
ng Logan’s out of the way.
Olivia stood in the rain, hands clenched around her umbrella handle. There was no way she was ever going to work with Barry Lunn. And that meant she had only one hope—Devon Mattson as mayor, a man who didn’t trust her.
6
Devon did a double take from his spot under the barbershop’s awning, where he was waiting out the rain. Olivia Carrington was hustling into Mandy’s café looking like a wet dog. A wet, muddy dog and not at all like a put-together princess.
In fact, she looked like someone who’d been caught out in the rain somewhere, such as a meadow while digging up samples. Samples he was supposed to preapprove. And yes, he was okay with it, but he’d wanted to be there. Wanted to see the lay of the land with Olivia’s scientist at her side, and make sure she didn’t overstep her bounds or make a deal with someone else. Someone like Barry Lunn. Not that he thought Barry would be able to offer her anything with the dam coming through, but he wouldn’t put it past the mayor to interfere, since it was obvious Devon was playing hardball in terms of opposing the dam now.
Curious, Devon held a clipboard over his head and raced through the puddles and the brisk rain. He slid into the café moments after Olivia and the man he assumed to be Vintra Badami.
“Find what you needed?” he asked.
Olivia whirled, her expression one of guilt.
Her hair, which she’d tangled into a loose bun at some point, was drenched, sending rivulets down her face. Her dress, which had been crisp and formfitting this morning, was now sagging and smeared with mud. Her feet completed the scraggly look with their mottled appearance, pink from the cold and brown from mud, with one of the bows missing from her sexy shoes. The only thing relatively clean and dry was her overpriced designer purse.
“Get chased by a bear?” he asked. Visions of her running from the local wildlife didn’t leave him feeling as amused as he thought it would.
“There was no cell signal in the meadow.”
She knew that from yesterday. “I thought we were working together.”
