by Skye Jordan
“Don’t be an even bigger loser than you already are.” She tossed her arm over her eyes, using the shoulder of her dad’s tee to dry her tears.
Then she rolled to her feet and sighed heavily as she pulled clothes from her suitcase.
5
Tate slowed as he approached the open warehouse door of Essex Elite Events with sweat collecting on his palms. A sign hung above the door, and the x in Essex added flair to the name and logo.
He’d waited three days for the company to open for regular business hours, hoping he’d hear from Olivia before then. He’d gone as far as leaving a post it on his apartment door any time he left with a note for her to call him with his cell number, only to come home to the note every time. So he was feeling pretty vulnerable right now, putting himself out there to tell her he wanted to see her again when a: she’d made it very clear she was a one-and-done kind of girl and b: she hadn’t made any effort to contact him.
Tate took a breath before he stepped into the shadow cast by the industrial building and rubbed his hands down the sides of his jeans. Then he exhaled and tried to settle. But, man, his stomach felt like a wild bird in a cage. This was way harder than getting out on a rink in front of fifteen thousand people.
The wide metal doors were open, but inside, the warehouse was quiet and dark. Tables and chairs were stacked along one long wall. Shelves stocked with supplies lined the middle of the space. A forklift sat off to the side.
He’d only met Teresa once, when he’d spoken to her in person at length about taking over the project from the previous planner. Tate had fired the other woman after she’d messed up one too many times on Eden and Beckett’s wedding plans. After the engagement party, Tate was glad he’d followed Eden’s gut on the Essex mother-daughter team and hired them off her recommendation alone. Though he couldn’t help but wonder what they would have done if Olivia hadn’t come in at the last minute and saved them.
None of that mattered now. It was all just something to busy his mind, because he knew Olivia was working with her family while she was in town. Which meant, involved or not, Tate and Olivia would see each other again. He was hoping that would happen sooner rather than later and more often than not. But he was still nervous as hell about how she would react to him now.
Tate cleared his throat and the sound echoed through the space. He lifted his hand to the wall and rapped a few times, then called, “Hello?”
His voice vibrated in the darkness, but got no response. And Tate’s hopes dropped. But his tension ebbed too. He walked deeper into the space, looking around. Row after row of rolling wardrobes were draped in material Tate could only guess was used for decoration. Oxygen tanks lined a short section of wall space. Shelves and shelves were lined with folded linens. Glassware. Tableware. Vases. Candles. Mirrors.
The sheer amount of inventory gathered gave him a whole different scope of this event planning gig. It was massive.
A female voice in the distance touched Tate’s ears and made his stomach flutter. He moved through the warehouse, focused on the tone, trying to figure out if it was Olivia or someone else. He had two different spiels worked up—one for Quinn and one for Teresa—if he needed them. But he hoped he found Olivia here first.
The clip of heels mixed with the woman’s voice growing closer, but Tate still couldn’t tell. And dammit, after hearing Olivia giggle and moan and scream for an entire night, he should be able to recognize—
Then she laughed. A soft, light-hearted sound that flipped Tate’s heart so hard, he covered the pain with his hand.
And he stepped back.
Three times.
He finally stopped himself when the woman walked into the warehouse from an open side door.
Olivia.
She wore a suit. A straight business skirt, a blazer and heels. It didn’t seem to fit her style—other than the color. Red. Deep, sensual red. It fit her curves like a fucking glove. And Tate ran his tongue over his lower lip. Even days later, he could remember exactly how good those curves tasted. And exactly how much Olivia loved being tasted. His grin widened, and his cock tingled with the memories.
Her head was down, her gaze on notes in her hand. Pausing at a small desk just inside the door, she set the papers down with her back to Tate.
He approached and paused ten feet away, hoping to catch that sultry floral scent of hers, but couldn’t. Crossing his arms, he waited. Her hair lay in loose curls against her shoulders and he wanted to role one around his finger while she laid stretched out on top of him naked and sated. The thought made him smile. Started his mind down a path to surprising her when she got off the phone, lighting her up, because he knew exactly how to do that in about three seconds flat, and taking her right here, quick and hard. An appetizer to a multiple course meal to stretch through the night.
Olivia laughed. “That sounds great. Okay. Fantastic.”
Tate started forward, relaxing into the rightness of just being in the same room with her. Beckett was right, Tate did deserve a good woman in his life. Even if they only had a little over a week left together. Based on their one night together, Tate was pretty sure Olivia could bring him as much happiness in that short amount of time as all his other relationships combined.
That might be sad, but again, Tate was taking what he could get. And he was going to have to put himself completely out there if he expected to get any return. Life was like that. Every reward he’d ever reaped in hockey had been because he’d thrown himself on the mercy of the ice—sometimes literally.
He was four feet behind her when she said, “Yes. I’ll have her call you as soon as she’s free.”
Two feet. He could smell her now. Fruity shampoo. Clean body wash. Not what he expected based on how sexy she smelled the other night. But that slipped out of his mind as she said, “Okay. Sounds good. Thank you. Bye.”
She bent to write something, and Tate said, “That sounded good.”
Her head came around as she glanced over her shoulder. She was smiling, bright, happy. Her hair slid over her suit jacket, reminding Tate of the way it slid over her shoulders when she’d looked at him that night while he’d taken her from behind.
“Oh, hi,” she said, then turned back to what she was writing. “I didn’t see you. It was good. That was—”
He didn’t care, he needed to touch her.
He closed the distance and slipped his arm around her waist. She gasped, straightened and grabbed at his arm. “What—”
“Just one second.” Tate pressed his face to her neck. “I just need to feel you for a second.”
“Mr….Donovan…?”
Tate laughed, nuzzled her ear and kissed her neck. She didn’t taste the same. That had to be his imagination. But something didn’t feel right. He wasn’t sure what. Was almost afraid to look too closely. “I think I liked Sir better, but I guess we could try Mr. Donovan if you want.”
“Uh, no.” She was still stiff against him. Her voice wasn’t the warm, teasing, sexy voice he was used to.
Dread gathered in his gut. He drew in a breath and pulled back, meeting her eyes. They were… Damn. Maybe the alcohol had lingered longer than he’d thought that night. Or maybe there hadn’t been enough light. Because she just didn’t look the same. No, she looked the same, but not the same.
“I know that look.” She stepped out of his arms and turned to face him at the same time. “You’re not going crazy. This has happened before.” She held her hand out to him for a shake. “I’m Quinn Essex, Olivia’s sister.”
His jaw unhinged. He stepped back. Way back. His stomach dropped to his feet. He rubbed a hand over his mouth. “Oh my God. I’m…fuck…” As soon as he said the word he slammed his eyes shut and put up both hands. “I’m…so sorry.” He covered his face with both hands paced away, filled his lungs and turned to face her again. “Wow, I couldn’t have messed that up worse if I’d tried.” He stuffed his hands into his back pockets and tried to focus on the concrete at his feet, but he couldn’t keep his
gaze off her face, unable to believe… “You’ve got to be—”
“Twins,” she said with an apologetic attempt at a grin as she wrung her hands. “Identical. We used to get mistaken for each other all through childhood. Still would if she didn’t live in another country.”
“Oh my God…” He dropped his gaze to the cement and scraped a hand through his hair. He hadn’t felt this foolish since he’d found out Lisa had been screwing guys for months behind his back.
“It’s really okay,” Quinn said and it was her voice that was apologetic. “I’m sorry as well. I hope this won’t make you want to change our working situation. My mother and I are really looking forward to planning your event for Afterschool Advantage.”
“Oh, God no.” He held up his hands. “As long as you still want to do it. I hope you do. I’d have a hard time finding someone at this late date.”
“Yes, yes, absolutely.” She laughed the words and it seemed to put them on even ground again.
He laughed. “Wow, awkward way to meet, huh?” He was scraping a hand through his hair when her earlier words registered. And now he wondered why she hadn’t hauled off and slapped him. He looked up at her again and gestured between them. “What did you mean this has happened before?”
“Oh, um…” She tucked her hair behind her ear and crossed her arms. “Well, you know, sometimes when Olivia comes home, she meets someone and, like you, they hit it off…”
She left it open-ended. Just dangling there for Tate’s mind to grab and run with. Anyone who knew anything about Tate knew you never left anything dangling if you didn’t want him to grab it, take control, and own it.
He may have owned Olivia for a night, he’d known that going in, but it sure looked damned different in the light a few days later. He’d never imagined himself as one of the many schmucks who’d come looking for her afterward, but it was crystal clear that he was just like every other guy she picked up. No different than the puck bunnies his teammates took up to their rooms, fucked, and never thought about again.
That realization kicked him straight in the gut with absolutely no warning. It stole his breath like a sucker punch from the league’s biggest defenseman.
“Right.” His word came out rough. He felt like he’d swallowed gravel. He dropped his gaze the concrete again and it took all he had to dig up enough composure to even make the attempt to look like this wasn’t as big a deal as it was. “Well, again, I apologize for mistaking you for Olivia, Quinn, and…” he gestured to her and finally pushed out, “for uh…you know.”
She was giving him that puppy-dog-at-the-pound look. The one the bleeding hearts want to take home because everyone’s passed him up and they feel so sorry for him. “And I’m really sorry about Olivia. She’s a beautiful person. And she doesn’t intentionally mean to hurt anyone. She’s just…” Quinn shrugged. “She’s just…a little lost.”
Yeah. Well, so was he. Now, even more than his normally pathetically lost state.
“Sure,” he said. “Well, I guess I’ll just— I think I have an appointment schedule with Teresa to follow up on the banquet details. I might see you then?“
She nodded and smiled. “I’ll check the calendar. Hey, did you want me to have Olivia—”
“No.” He said it too forcefully and put out a hand. But, no. God no. Talk about mortifying. “Please don’t.”
Quinn pressed her lips together and nodded. “Of course.”
“Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. This isn’t your fault. I— This just really threw me, you know?”
“Sure, sure.” She nodded and chewed her lip. “I understand.”
She looked so uncomfortable that he couldn’t stand to just leave her like that. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked around the warehouse. “This is…a big operation.”
“Yeah,” she laughed the word. “Some days it feels overwhelming.”
“Sounds like you had some good news on the phone.”
She perked up. “Yes. A possible wedding job for friends of someone who was at Beckett’s engagement party.”
“That’s great.”
“It is. We’ve been struggling to get it to run in a way that will support my mom until retirement. I don’t know if Olivia told you, but our dad died some time ago.”
“Oh no, she didn’t.” Nope, Olivia didn’t say much about her personal life. Every time Tate had asked, she’d done something to make his eyes roll back in his head. “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks. We were a really tight family, and he was our core. I doubt mom will ever remarry. They were that once in a lifetime for each other, you know?”
Nope. Tate didn’t know anything about that. “That’s got to be tough. How long ago?”
“Ten years now. Hard to believe he’s been gone that long. Sometimes it still feels so raw. We all still miss him so much.”
Tate nodded, calculating the years. “You had to be young.”
“Eighteen.” Her gaze went distant. “He got sick about mid way through our senior year.” She focused and smiled. “Made it to watch us walk across the stage though. Passed a few days later.”
Holy fuck. “I can’t even imagine how hard that would have been.”
She sighed deeply and nodded.
“It sounds like that’s about the time Olivia went to Europe.”
Quinn smiled again. It wasn’t a happy smile, but it wasn’t sad either. And it wasn’t bitter. It looked more like acceptance or resignation. She shrugged. “We’re all coping…in our own ways.”
Right. Quinn was coping by dealing with the issues, struggling through the obstacles and sticking it out by her mother’s side.
Olivia was coping by running away. Jumping from man to man to man.
Just like Lisa.
Did Tate have ‘Big Fat Sucker’ stamped on his forehead? Or was his judgment in women really just that shitty?
“Well, thanks for understanding,” Tate said. “It was good talking to you.”
“It’s not a problem, it’s forgotten. And, again, about Olivia…I’m sorry.”
Tate worked up what had to be a lousy smile. “Me too.”
Olivia was in trouble.
She knew when Quinn sent their mother out the door with a grocery list that reached her elbow that her sister was pissed at her. Again.
Olivia crossed her arms, leaned against the kitchen doorjamb and rested her head there. She was tired. She wasn’t sleeping well at night and she’d been planning food and a cake for Lily’s party during the day in between helping her mother vet caterers to take over the smaller jobs so Olivia could focus on the two bigger ones.
Lily’s party wasn’t a problem. Eden was extremely easy to please. She liked clean eating and basic ingredients with lots of flavor. Right up Olivia’s alley. The cake Olivia could do in her sleep, even if Lily wanted some bizarre winged dragon creature. And the kitchen in Beckett’s parent’s Arlington home were they were holding the party had been sent directly from the heavens above. Olivia could throw a wedding reception for five hundred people out of that kitchen.
But the charity banquet was hanging a lot heavier in the back of her mind. She didn’t want to tell her mother and Quinn that, but she’d made sure they’d secured Charlotte’s sous chefs for the day before and her entire staff for the night of. The only problem she could see running into would be bizarre menu requests, ingredients she couldn’t get or that would be out of season and ridiculously expensive. She didn’t want to do anything to eat into her mother’s budget.
As Quinn called a few last items out to their mother, Olivia rested her eyes. She’d figure the banquet out soon enough. She was scheduled to meet the client at the end of the week, before Lily’s—
“Olivia.”
She startled awake. “Oui, quoi? Quoi?” And found Quinn glaring at her from the dining room. Olivia exhaled and rubbed her face with both hands. “Shit.”
She’d just fallen asleep on her feet. Not exactly new. She’d done that numerous tim
es over the years working double shifts, but it wasn’t how she wanted to spend her time off.
Olivia scraped her hands into her hair, pulled the messy mass back and wound the band she’d been wearing on her wrist around the ponytail. “You haven’t sent mom to the store so you could yell at me since that Christmas when I borrowed the car and dented the bumper. I’m doing exactly what you wanted me to do, and I’m doing it well. So why are you mad at me now?”
Quinn gripped the back of a dining chair, propped her other hand on her hip and settled that look on Olivia. The judgmental one. Olivia thought she’d gotten over the irritation that brought, but evidently it still raked a few fingers across a blackboard somewhere in her psyche.
“You slept with Tate Donovan,” Quinn said with absolute authority and censure. “That’s what you did.”
The fact that she knew hit Olivia sideways. “How the hell—?”
“Not only did you sleep with him the first night you were in town, but then you dumped the poor guy. Now the immediate future of our business hinges on the referrals of his buddies and the buddies of his buddies. So I sent mom out because I didn’t want to talk about this in front of her. You’re welcome.”
Hurt from the past came rushing to the surface. All the animosity between them they’d failed to get past sizzled. And Olivia was reminded that real love caused bone deep pain.
“I didn’t thank you. And I won’t thank you. First, because you’re acting like a bitch. Second, because you didn’t do it for me. You did it for mom. Everything you do is for mom. It’s like I don’t exist. As soon as dad got sick I ceased to exist for both of you. Nothing I wanted or needed mattered anymore.”
Olivia pushed off the doorjamb and took a step toward Quinn. “If you ever want to know why I don’t come home more often, record just one conversation with me and play it back. That judgmental tone of yours gets old really fast, Quinn, and you’ve already used up your quota of my patience. So if you want this stupid birthday party and this goddamned banquet to go off perfectly, don’t fuckin’ push your luck.”
