by Maisey Yates
Her sister was so thin. Wasted down to nothing, her skin ravaged, her eyes dull, her hair lank.
That was where aimlessness got you. It was where living for the moment got you. And Olivia had never been that person. No, plans didn’t scare her. Permanence didn’t scare her. It was all those other things in between.
“Well,” Lindy said, “men get gun-shy when commitment is on the table.”
“I’m not scared of getting married. Or having a relationship.”
“But apparently you’re scared of having an honest conversation with the man that you claim you’re ready to marry?”
Olivia placed her hand on her chest, where it felt like Lindy’s words had literally stuck into her like a sword. “I just... I have some pride. I’m not going to beg him. I need him to try and get a better understanding of his feelings. Through... Seeing what his life might be like without me. I want him to understand that he needs me by saying that maybe I don’t need him.”
“But don’t you need him?”
Olivia frowned. “Yes. But I have to have some pride.”
“Okay. So, your version of having pride is trying to trick the man that you say you’re in love with, by pretending to date a different man, so that he’ll feel bad and ask you to marry him?”
Olivia did not like this line of conversation at all. Because when Lindy said it like that, it just sounded sad. And it didn’t sound at all like it did when she thought about it. When it came from inside of her it all seemed logical. Repeated back at her it sounded manipulative and that wasn’t what she felt.
“I’m just saying,” Lindy said. “At a certain point in your relationship you’re going to have been together for a long time. That’s what marriage is. It’s forever. It’s supposed to be. And you’re going to reach a point there where you realize you didn’t practice telling each other the truth. You didn’t practice sharing what was in your heart, what you were feeling, what you had for breakfast. And you’re going to realize that you live with a stranger. And so does he.”
“I don’t think you can compare what happened with you and Damien to me and Bennett,” Olivia said. “And I don’t think it’s fair for you to try and take blame for anything. For you to say that he didn’t know you as if somehow you could have told him what kind of cereal you had that day and he wouldn’t have cheated on you.”
“That’s the thing,” Lindy said. “He did the wrong thing. And he took us to a place where for me... We couldn’t come back from it. But he didn’t take us there by himself. He didn’t get started on the road on his own. As much as it pains me to say it, our divorce isn’t only his fault.”
“I don’t understand how that could be. You do the right thing, and you keep going forward on the right path, and things like that don’t happen. He’s the one that strayed.”
“Yes,” Lindy said. “He did. But why? It’s the answer to that question that sits uncomfortably with me. Just... As I told you, I’m not an expert. I’m thirty-four years old and divorced with absolutely no prospects on the horizon. But I was married for ten years and I do know a little something about that. And about all the things that can go wrong. So just... Consider having a conversation with him? You don’t have to cry or make a fool out of yourself. But... It might not be the worst idea.”
Olivia frowned. “I don’t know what I would say to him.” To tell him that she was unhappy because she couldn’t see where her life was going anymore? To tell him that she loved him and was miserable without him? That settled uncomfortably in her chest, too. Because it felt... Wrong. Like it might not even be true.
“I don’t know,” Lindy said. “Maybe I don’t know what I’m talking about with you and Bennett.”
“It’s not like I didn’t tell him,” Olivia said. “I told him I wanted to marry him. And he said he didn’t want to do that yet. I haven’t been lying to him. I told him exactly what I wanted. I just want him to make a decision. A final decision. I’m the one that broke up with him. And I feel like he’s the one who has to either close the door on it forever or come back. I would prefer that he came back.”
Lindy sighed heavily. “I get that. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I accused you of not asking for what you wanted. I know that you did. And you know... My marriage didn’t work. So, you probably really shouldn’t listen to me because I’m bitter and cynical, and I feel like I don’t much believe in the power of love right now. So go on, make him jealous. I hope that he sees you with Luke and is overcome by the desire to pick you up and carry you back to his bed.”
Olivia shifted uncomfortably. “I’d settle for an engagement ring.”
A subtle crease appeared between Lindy’s brows. “Right. Good luck tonight.”
Olivia forced a smile. “Thank you.” She had a feeling she was going to need to find a rabbit holding a four-leaf clover between its toes before she had the proper amount of luck she would need tonight, but she was just going to stick with a simple thank you.
A group of three women walked in after that, and Olivia was saved from her thoughts. She hoped that she could find a way to stay busy enough to avoid thinking for the rest of the afternoon. But she had a feeling that was a tad optimistic.
Still, considering that tonight she had a date with Luke Hollister, optimism was necessary.
CHAPTER SIX
LUKE WASN’T SURE what to expect when he went to pick Olivia up that evening after work. He had spent a good portion of the day imagining what Olivia Logan considered to be make-your-ex-jealous clothes.
He was slightly disappointed by the answer to the question.
It was a floral dress and a pair of leggings, accompanied by a tall pair of boots. Fair enough, he supposed, since it was cold as hell frozen over out there. But as far as he was concerned a little bit of skin wouldn’t have gone amiss. Of course, he had never actually seen Olivia showing any skin, and he imagined it had been a little optimistic to expect she would start now.
Not that he needed her to expose any skin for him.
But he was a man, same as any other. Which meant that whatever type of creature he found sexually appealing he enjoyed seeing more of when at all possible.
He put the truck in Park and got out as Olivia whipped down the front steps of her little cottage, her brown hair a tangle around her face, her skirt blowing up around the top of her legging-clad thighs. All right, even though her legs were covered by that textured, gray wool, he could see the shape of them, and he definitely liked what he saw.
“You didn’t have to get out of the truck,” she said, clutching her purse and a cranberry-colored sweater to her chest, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear as the wind blew around them, sharp like a knife’s edge.
“Sure I did, ma’am,” he said, sweeping his black hat off his head and treating her to his most charming smile. “We are on a date, after all, and a gentleman always comes to the door to pick up his date, same as he walks to the door to drop her off.”
“But this isn’t a real date,” she said, treating him to a very suspicious glare.
“I have to get into character, kiddo. If you’re going to use me, you need to allow me to be used on my terms. That’s the only way this works.”
“You’re using me, too,” she pointed out. “So that you can offer on that land. Don’t think I haven’t forgotten.”
“I like it when you play ruthless, Liv.”
She sniffed. “Nobody calls me that.”
“Good. Then it will be my pet name for you. I bet it will drive Bennett crazy.” He grinned, and he couldn’t help but notice that he was driving Olivia a little bit crazy, too. At the moment, she had the appearance of a ruffled wren. If she’d had feathers they most certainly would have been standing on end.
“Let’s just go,” she said. “I bet everybody’s at the bar already.”
“Now, here’s a chance for you to learn a little something
. Sometimes it’s better to show up late.”
She blinked, her brown eyes almost comically bland. “Why?”
He chuckled. “Because it gives space for the imagination. For Bennett’s imagination. For him to imagine all the things we might have been doing in that time we weren’t in the saloon.”
Her eyes remained blank for a split second, and then suddenly her face turned scarlet. “Oh.”
“Sometimes taking it slow is the best way to take it.”
She swallowed visibly, her fingers curling more tightly around her purse. “Right.” She lifted her chin, attempting to look imperious now, which was especially funny with that blush still lingering on her cheeks. “Oh, I suppose we’ve taken it slow enough. And if not, you can drive slow.”
“No one tells me how to drive my truck,” he said.
“You’re exasperating,” she said.
“Sure. But, if I didn’t exasperate you, who would?” He moved along beside her and pressed his palm against her lower back. She stiffened beneath his touch, her shoulders going rigid. “Relax,” he said, leaning in, ignoring the sparks beneath his fingertips. “You have to look like you like it, remember?”
She nodded wordlessly, and he guided her to the passenger side of his truck, opening the door for her.
“Another thing a gentleman does,” he said, keeping his voice low.
He offered her his arm, but she braced herself on the rest inside the passenger door, hauling herself up into the large vehicle and settling into the seat. Primly. As she had done the first time. If someone had told him a couple of days ago that he would have Olivia Logan sitting in his truck two times in one week he would have said they were crazy. But, here she was. Looking no more comfortable today than she had the other day.
He shook his head and put his hat back on as he took his position in the driver seat, slamming the door hard behind him.
“Bennett always opens the door for me,” she said as he pulled the truck out onto the main highway.
“Well, good for him. I would expect nothing different. In fact, if he didn’t I’d have to have a serious talking-to with him. You know, kind of like an older brother thing.”
“You’re not his brother,” she pointed out.
“No,” Luke said. “But I’m older. Full of wisdom.”
“Ancient,” she said drily.
He took his eyes off the road for a moment, to look at that imperious little profile of hers. Her cheeks were still pink.
He heard a phone notification, and saw Olivia lift her phone up and text quickly.
“Who’s that?”
“Do I owe you an explanation for all of my actions now?” she asked, her tone snippy.
“I’m making conversation, Liv,” he said. “You know, since you’re in my truck and making conversation with someone else instead of with me.”
“It’s my mother,” she said.
“Checking in on you?”
“Yes. She does that. She just wants to know what I’m up to.”
“And what did you tell her?” He was genuinely curious how she was going to spin this story to her parents. He was also fascinated by the fact that her mother checked in.
He’d been an orphan for all intents and purposes by the time he was sixteen, and before that, he had done a lot of the caregiving in his household. His only other real experience with a parent-type relationship was with Quinn Dodge, and while Quinn was definitely an involved father, he didn’t hover.
“I told her I was going out with a friend,” she said.
“That feels like an upgrade,” he said. “Though, you might have told her you had a date.”
“No,” she said, “I mightn’t have. Because then she would want details, and she would want to know what time I was coming home, and she would want to make sure that I didn’t have anything put in my drink.”
He laughed. “A little overprotective?”
“Maybe. But we are close. She just wants to know what’s going on in my life.” He could tell that wasn’t the whole story, but he could also tell that she wasn’t going to give him much more right now. If she’d wanted to, she would have just come out and told him.
And he didn’t do female excavation. He liked easy conversation; he didn’t like to dig. Because that meant getting down to the bits of people they didn’t want to share, which meant that they might want him to do the same in turn. He preferred stripping off layers of clothes to any other kind of stripping off of layers, thank you very much.
And since Olivia wasn’t going to be stripping off any clothes for him—and he wouldn’t ask her to anyway—there wasn’t any point in courting any other type of stripping.
“Well, that’s nice.” Except to him it sounded stifling more than it sounded nice.
“It is. I have great parents. I’m lucky.” Her tone sounded distracted. Distant.
“Sure,” he said.
“You’re very difficult,” she said.
“Yes,” he remarked, making his tone as contrite as possible. “It’s been said. Frequently. Mostly by you.”
She sniffed loudly, and he imagined that there was a very haughty face accompanying that sniff. “It’s just... As far as I can tell you aren’t accountable to anyone or anything. I don’t understand that. I have my parents... I have goals... I have... Bennett.”
“Technically,” Luke pointed out, feeling like an ass even as he said it, “you don’t have Bennett at the moment.”
“You’re mean,” she said.
“Am I wrong?”
“No. But... I feel like a gentleman wouldn’t say that. And you’re so into pointing out what a gentleman does.”
“That’s the trouble,” he said. “I’m playing the part of a gentleman. But don’t for one second confuse me with an actual gentleman.”
At that exact moment, they drove down onto the town’s main street, and Luke spotted an open parking space against the curb across from the Gold Valley Saloon.
He put the truck in Park, then looked at Olivia’s resolute profile. “Ready?”
“Now who’s impatient,” she said, hands pinned firmly to the center of her lap, her eyes fixed straight ahead.
“Not impatient,” he said. Except he felt something. A kind of restlessness rolling through him that left him feeling edgy. And he didn’t do edgy.
He liked irritating Olivia—it was one of his great joys in life. He didn’t so much like it when she managed to poke her own little stick back at him and make contact.
He got out of the truck, and he noticed that she stayed put. Waiting for him to open the door. In spite of himself, his lips curved up into a smile.
He opened it for her, then offered her his hand, which this time she took. The skin-to-skin contact hit him like a knockout punch. She was soft. So damn soft. That didn’t shock him; he had expected her to be soft. What shocked him was the fact that such innocuous contact had him hot and hard in seconds. And maybe that was the reason, in and of itself. The fact that he hadn’t been expecting the impact. Maybe that was why it landed with such accuracy, with such force.
Whatever it was, he’d felt less pleasure from a hand wrapped around more intimate parts of him than from her delicate fingers wrapped around his own.
“Let’s go,” he said, his voice gruffer than he intended. But dammit, he was affected. He wasn’t used to being affected. He was used to doing the affecting. He was used to being the one causing a reaction, not contending with one. Particularly one he didn’t want.
He didn’t have a lot of practice in restraint. Life was pretty easy for him. Everything he had he’d worked for honestly. Everything except that money in the bank from the insurance settlement. And that was why it still sat there, because it occupied a place that was uncomfortable for him. A place he didn’t know what to do with.
He didn’t like things like that. He li
ked his life simple.
He wanted something, he worked for it. He wanted a woman, he slept with her. He wanted to be done with a woman, he cut things off.
He didn’t do longing. He didn’t do unrequited lust and unquenched desire. He didn’t want things he couldn’t have. Hell, usually he didn’t even want things he had to wait for.
But there was money he’d received from a loss, from a moment in time he resented, and if he did nothing with it, it would be worse than benefiting from it.
And there was Olivia Logan. About to make him lose his mind because her hand had touched his. Like he was a green horse that had never been ridden.
In rebellion to those feelings, he held on to her more tightly, shifted so that his fingers were laced through hers as the two of them walked across the street and toward the saloon. When he looked down at her, he almost laughed. Except that his throat was too tight, and his chest felt like there was a ten-ton weight on it.
Yeah, except for those things, he was tempted to laugh at Olivia, who looked like she was carved out of a particularly lifeless bar of Ivory soap. She’d gone waxen and pale, her expression frozen, her petite little shoulders stiff as they made their way to the front door of the bar.
“You’re going to have to look a little bit less like you want to throw up on my boots, kiddo,” he said.
“I don’t... I don’t know if I can do this,” she said, extricating herself from his hold.
“It’s too late, honey,” he said. “We’re already doing this. People have already seen us out the window. And they’re wondering what the hell you’re doing with the likes of me. But you know who’s going to wonder that most of all? Bennett. Bennett Dodge is going to wonder what the hell you’re doing with me.”
“Is it going to cause trouble?” she asked, her dark brows knitting together, a little crease appearing between them. “Is it going to cause trouble between you and the Dodge family, because I know you’re close...”
“You don’t care,” he said.
“Will you stop telling me I don’t care about things?” she said, frowning deeply.
