by Jean Oram
Someone put a muzzle on that man. He was definitely not helping, and Devon wondered if that was Barry’s intent. Redirect attention away from him and the dam, while setting his opponent up for something that surely wasn’t good.
Devon dragged a hand down his face, focusing on Ginger, who was repeating something.
“Logan says use the back exits.” She pointed down the emergency exit hallway before disappearing down it herself.
“Right. Okay.” Devon glanced at Olivia. For once she wasn’t trying to go talk sense into the protesters, but was waiting for his cue. He turned to her, speaking quietly. “I may have left you when you needed me the most, and you may have pushed me away, but if we’re going to get through this we have to put that all in the past and stick together through thick and thin. If we don’t, we both go down.”
She nodded slowly, eyes cast to the side, unable to look at him.
“We stand back to back. I swear on my white horse I won’t leave you. In return you promise not to shut me out.”
She lifted her face, determination radiating off her as she straightened her shoulders. “Throw me in the loony bin if I ever marry for money or social standing.”
He smiled. He’d quoted a conversation from the past and she’d quoted it right back. The promise was that if she gave in to her parents’ expectations about her future, her life, then he was to come rescue her on his white horse.
He hadn’t. But there was always time to correct the mistakes of the past.
9
What had become of her life? Olivia had been in town for approximately forty-eight hours and was now fake-engaged to man she hadn’t spoken to in a decade. She had angry protesters popping up around town, a security detail on her case, and she’d discovered her sister was sick, thanks to the very company that had given them everything they had.
And to top it all, her news feed had gone insane with mentions, and none of them were positive. The press was calling her a litterbug who didn’t care about the earth. Accompanying photo—the beer cup being knocked out of her hand at the Vapid Magpie concert, only it looked like she was throwing it. Another of her as a big muddy mess, with a predictable headline about her company raping the earth. Another of her at the press conference saying she was marrying Devon—that headline essentially hinting that she’d created a puppet so she could take over the town.
It was bad. She’d been searching for hours to find a clear way out of it all—that magic pin to deflate the balloon of trouble so everyone could see beyond it. See the truth, which was that Devon would be good for the town. But all she’d found was a headache that grew with each hour and each new article.
Mr. Right jumped onto Devon’s couch, curling up beside her as the sound of a smokejumper’s helicopter grew near. She rubbed her temples, trying to pull herself together. She could feel the threads letting go, unraveling, taking her with them. She sniffed once, twice, then before she knew it, was engulfed in Devon’s strong arms as the dogs crowded around.
He should have thrown her on the first bus out of here, but instead he was being supportive and kind. In the town building he’d said the sweetest things, promising to be there for her. She didn’t know why, but those words had nearly broken her apart. He was such a good man and she’d been a complete fool pushing him away all those years ago. Yes, she’d been overwhelmed, but she’d also been dumb.
And now, with one moment of blurtacious behavior, she’d set them both up for enormous consequences. Her father would be angry, Luke hurt and upset. That she could handle. But Devon’s family would likely be overjoyed that he’d found someone, then mad at her when they broke up the fake engagement. Add in the disaster that would occur if the town realized their mayoral hopeful was a liar—because of her.
She’d really put Devon in a bad spot.
“It’ll all work out,” he said. “We’re a team, remember?”
“But your family’s going to invite us over for supper and ask when we’re going to have b-b-b—”
How was she going to get through this? She couldn’t even say the word baby.
“Shh.” Devon placed a finger over her lips, silencing her. “We can dodge the tricky stuff, and besides, I offered to marry you once. We’ll be naturals.” His tone was light, his effort to soothe her so much more than she deserved.
“I’m sorry, Devon.”
“Don’t be. Asking you to run away with me meant turning your back on your family, and that wasn’t a fair thing.”
“I wish I’d had the courage to say yes.”
He was silent, his arms tightening around her.
She leaned back so she could see his face. “Can you forgive me someday for being so…awful?”
He kissed the top of her head. “You gave up a lot, you know, trying to do the right thing.”
“That doesn’t make it okay.”
“Maybe not, but I think I have a better understanding now of why you did what you did.”
There was a knock at the front door, sending the dogs barking. Devon got up, peeking through the peephole. He cursed under his breath. “We’ve got company.”
The last thing she wanted to do with her puffy eyes was play pretty hostess.
“What in tarnation is going on in Blueberry Springs?”
Olivia jumped at the sound of her father’s voice.
Devon stood between her and her dad, who was already looming in the doorway, his face red. Olivia’s whole world stilled. There was nothing but the sound of Mr. Right’s insanity freakout he reserved for her father.
“First, I hear there are protesters,” her father boomed. “Then I see a picture of you looking like an unfit mess. Then one of you throwing alcohol around in a mosh pit last night. You’ve skipped three days of our company’s retreat, ordered your sister to send your suitcases here and now you’re engaged? To him!” He jabbed a finger in Devon’s direction. Copter barked a low warning, moving between Devon and her dad. “Olivia Dawn, I demand answers, right this instant! And get this mangy mutt out of my face.”
Devon rescued Mr. Right, tucking the squirming dog under his arm.
Olivia looked out the window. She could see Logan on the front step, arms crossed, looking unimpressed. She followed his gaze to the soccer field at the end of the road. There was a helicopter surrounded by curious kids.
“Daddy, this is a residential street.” So much for the small-family-company image she’d been trying to cultivate around town. Not that, according to her news feeds, she was doing a very good job of it, but this definitely didn’t help.
“Answers, Olivia,” her father demanded.
Behind him, Luke stood tall, his eyes burning into Devon.
Oh.
Olivia sat, suddenly spent. Copter came over and tried to nudge her hand over his head.
Luke.
She hadn’t called him back.
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re engaged?” Luke asked, his expression pained. “To him?”
Luke had an inkling of how drastically brokenhearted she’d been after the breakup with Devon. Not the full extent, of course, and definitely nothing about the baby, but enough to know all of this was…sudden and somewhat out of character.
“I can explain,” she said weakly.
“You’d better,” her father said.
“Sir, if I might,” Devon said, his voice clear and strong. He looked like a knight, ready to defend her.
She’d never loved a man more.
Her father whirled on Devon. “You’ve caused enough trouble for one lifetime. You don’t get to come back for more!”
“Daddy! It wasn’t his fault.”
“You need to let your daughter live the life she was meant to,” Devon said. “She’s a grown woman capable of making her own choices, but as soon as she starts believing in herself, carving out a niche, you come storming in to take over.”
“Is this what ‘believing in herself’ looks like? Because to me it looks like ruining the company I spent thirty ye
ars building.”
“Daddy!”
Luke opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it.
“Princess, we’re going.”
“No.”
Her father blinked once. “I’m sorry?” His voice was quiet. Scary quiet.
Logan Stone filled the doorway, his brow furrowed. He looked ready to toss the first man who ticked her off.
“Daddy, Emma’s sick.”
Oh, no.
She really hadn’t meant to say that. Luke’s expression turned to one of concern and he took a step forward, while her father’s anger simply increased.
“No,” her father said. “This is about you and the mess you’ve created with your pet project. It is no more, you hear me? You’re lucky I don’t fire you.”
Mr. Right squirmed in Devon’s arms and barked at her father.
“Women need this product. And we have it, Daddy. We just need Devon to win the election and we’ll have a whole meadow of valerian.”
Her father turned his shrewd eyes to Devon. “That’s what this is about? You needed my daughter to win an election?”
“Not exactly, sir, but we are working together.”
“Daddy, this isn’t about Devon. It’s about the plants.”
“Then find them elsewhere. You’re not to go near this man again.”
Olivia took Devon’s hand, standing united with him, unable to meet Luke’s eye. “I’m an adult and I can choose who I want to marry.” Devon gave her hand a supportive squeeze.
Her father was slowly taking in every detail about Devon’s appearance, sizing him up.
Luke stepped forward, facing Devon. “You left her, pal. Broke her heart. You don’t deserve a second chance. You don’t know what she wants, you don’t know her best.”
“And you know everything about her?” Devon retorted, his eyes a deep well of emotion. “Every. Thing?”
Luke’s eyes narrowed before he slid his gaze to Olivia, trying to decide whether Devon was bluffing. “Are you sure about him? About this?”
“Yes.” She spoke quickly. “This isn’t about the past.” She moved to Luke, touching his hand. “You’ve always been my friend and I—”
Luke placed a finger over her lips, silencing her. “Olivia, hush. Get your closure. You know I’ll be here when you need me.” His gaze flicked to Devon, who put down a squirming Mr. Right, who then grabbed the cuff of Luke’s pants, growling and trying to drag him toward the door.
“You’re being foolish,” her father said.
He was probably right. She had two men who didn’t love her fighting over her, when all she was trying to do was help the company.
“I want to show you something. Come sit.” Olivia sank down on the couch and pulled out the projections the marketing department had put together. Devon had printed it off for her, and it was the one bright ray of hope she’d had in her afternoon. Her father didn’t move. “If you want to see the extent of my foolishness and why I insist on staying here, come sit,” she commanded, her voice firm.
Her father’s face softened slightly as though he was reevaluating her. He glanced at Devon, who gestured to the couch with a shrug. He’d calmed the dogs, and both were sitting at his feet now, although Mr. Right still gave out the occasional low growl.
When Luke went to join them on the couch, Olivia held up her hand. “I’m sorry, Luke,” she said softly, “but this is…”
He looked disappointed, hurt, but he nodded once, ever the supportive friend. “I understand.” He gave Olivia one last, lingering look, then headed outside. He returned a moment later. Devon, who had been heading to the kitchen to give Olivia and her father privacy, turned. The two men locked eyes. “Treat her right. She deserves the best.”
Devon nodded.
“No. I mean it. If I hear…” Luke let out a long breath, composing himself. “Just treat her right and there won’t be any problems.”
Olivia could tell Devon was holding his tongue as Luke left. His eyes met hers, his expression unreadable, before he left her alone with her father.
Olivia took a moment to pull her heart back into her chest. Any woman would be lucky to win the love of either man. So very lucky.
With her father by her side, she showed him the projections. He remained silent until she got to the end.
“Who put this together?” he asked, flipping the pages.
“The marketing department.”
Her father tossed the bundle onto the coffee table. Then he turned slightly, studying her. She felt nervous, underdressed. Too casual.
“I’m worried about you.”
“What? Why?” She picked up the printouts. They were solid, conservative at best. There was nothing to worry about.
“I’m concerned about last time.” He lifted his gaze to the wall that separated them from Devon.
Oh.
“I’ve never seen anyone as devastated as you were.”
The two of them had never talked about her and Devon after her father had transferred her to Harvard and away from her ex-boyfriend and any memories associated with him.
“Promise me you’ll be careful. Don’t let him break you again.”
“It takes two to break a heart, Daddy, and I did more than my share last time.”
Her father stood with a hearty sigh. “I’m giving you two days to fix this. If things get worse before then, I’m pulling the plug on the project.”
“You can’t, Daddy. This is it! It’s important.”
“I know, but this whole thing could take us down.” His tone was gentle, almost pleading. “Please understand that I have to protect Carrington above all else.”
“But Emma and I are Carrington.”
He gave her a sad look of understanding. “I know.”
Devon stood in the doorway, watching Olivia. Her father had just left and she hadn’t chased after him. Instead, she’d stood up to him, spoken her mind, given her sales pitch. But most of all, she’d stayed.
She’d chosen him, Devon.
And that felt pretty spectacular.
The most gorgeous and absolutely sexiest woman he’d ever laid his sights upon had chosen him, their plan. Over her father’s demands.
And yeah, yeah, yeah, he knew it wasn’t quite that big. She was choosing her project, but it still felt like she was choosing him, too, and he wanted to revel in that win for a moment.
He sat down beside her. “You all right?”
She gave a nod and accepted the glass of wine he’d poured for her, then took a hearty sip.
“So?”
“I have two days to fix the PR mess or he’s pulling the plug.” She gave a small smile and a shaky laugh. “I’ve never stood up for myself with him before.” She looked down, her expression turning somber. “I have a big mess to clean up.”
“I’ll help.”
She laughed and the sound warmed him from the inside out like nothing had over the past decade. He’d missed that. “You’re part of the big mess, you know.” She leaned in, bumping her shoulder against his, setting her glass on the nearby coffee table.
She was taking this disaster quite well…which meant she’d either cracked or, dare he think it again, that it was an all-new world, one where she might actually choose him?
Then again, maybe she was simply choosing between the corporation and her sister. Because this was about business. Nothing personal.
He really needed to remember that.
“Am I really part of the mess?” He peered deep into her eyes for the truth.
She looked away with a sigh. “No, not really. But I’m afraid I’m going to fail, that I’m going to mess everything up again.” She dropped her head in her hands, her loose curls creating a curtain around her face. He knew she wasn’t freaking out, just thinking.
Nevertheless, anxiety squeezed him tight. “We’ll figure it out. And you know what? I’ll set you up with Jen Kulak. She’s a local guide, and if anyone can find you more valerian, it’s her. Okay? I’ll make sure you won’
t lose even if I do.”
Olivia had tipped her head up to look at him, scrutinizing him in a way that left him feeling bared before her.
“What?” he asked.
“Why are you being so nice?”
“I’m a nice guy. Didn’t you notice? Or were you too busy staring at my chest?”
Her lips hooked up into a small, sly smile. “It’s a good chest.”
“I work out,” he said, flexing subtly.
“Careful or you might rip your shirt.”
“It’s happened before. Women find it sexy, though.”
She picked up her glass and stretched. “I’m bagged. I know it’s early, but I’m going to call it a night.”
“Olivia?”
She turned.
“You’re doing the right thing…for your sister, for the company, for everyone.”
She paused, her smile soft, her eyes moist. “Thanks.”
He wanted to add that he was sorry if it was making things harder for her and Luke. But then again, the man had barely fought for her. He’d stepped away with honor. Who needed honor? If you loved a woman and thought you had a chance, you fought for her.
Devon caught Olivia’s hand, giving it a brief, reassuring squeeze. “This is going to happen for you. I promise.”
She gave another faint smile, then headed to her room. Devon sat for a long while, soaking up the silence. Two days to clean up the mess.
He walked past Olivia’s room, wondering what he was going to do with himself. He’d let the dogs out already, but it was too early for sleep and his mind was stuck in hyperdrive. The way the press had all of a sudden slaughtered Olivia, the protesters showing up in the town offices right when he and Olivia had launched their A game…he had a feeling the timing wasn’t at all coincidental, and that this was all due to Barry Lunn and some well-timed tip-offs to the media and collection of protesters.
He texted Logan to see if his suspicion seemed off target, and got an immediate reply. Logan already had a friend, Zach Forrester, secretly investigating Barry. It made Devon uncomfortable, but at the same time, if their current mayor could stoop that low…then wasn’t it Devon’s responsibility to find out, so he could protect his hometown? His family?
