by Rachel Lacey
“Hi. I’m Diana Robbins from the WJBV Channel Two news. Are you Olivia Bennett?”
Olivia nodded slowly. “Yes. What can I do for you?”
“The town’s been buzzing since your arrest out at the Halverson Foods plant, and now some of Frank Holloway’s cows have been spray-painted as well. Care to give us a comment?” Diana asked, her green eyes gleaming with interest.
“Um.” Olivia noticed for the first time the cameraman standing beside Diana, the red light lit, camera rolling. “I don’t know anything about the cows, so I really can’t comment on that.”
“What about your ongoing battle against Halverson Foods? Can you give our viewers the inside scoop?”
A segment on the news highlighting her campaign against Halverson Foods? This was too good to be true! Olivia pulled the front door shut behind her and smiled into the camera. “It all started about a year and a half ago when I came across some undercover footage showing conditions inside the Halverson Foods chicken-processing plant.”
* * *
Pete spent the weekend working, and Monday too. He was satisfied that Olivia hadn’t gone anywhere near Holloway’s farm, although her name hadn’t been officially removed from the list of suspects. He didn’t believe she was guilty of anything but spray-painting the Halverson factory, and the quickest way to prove that was to catch the actual culprit or culprits.
And so he’d spent every spare minute investigating the other open vandalism cases. He’d tracked down and talked to every convicted vandal in town. He even scoured Olivia’s website for names of her fellow animal rights activists and checked to see if any of them had a criminal history that suggested they might have spray-painted “Don’t eat me” on those cows.
So far he’d come up with squat, but he’d keep digging until he caught whoever was responsible. When he finally got home that night, he took Timber for a quick run, then settled on the couch with a plate of leftover pizza to catch the end of the ten o’clock news.
He choked on a piece of pepperoni when he saw Olivia’s face on the screen. She wore a green sweater and jeans. The front of her house was visible behind her.
“It’s barbaric,” she was saying. “Those birds deserve to be treated humanely, even though they’re destined to be slaughtered.”
A newscaster stood beside her, microphone in hand. “I think that most of us imagine the chickens we eat roaming around happily outside on a farm before they head to the slaughterhouse, but that’s not the reality of it.”
Olivia shook her head. “No, and it hasn’t been for some time. But the fact is, the chickens that arrive at the Halverson Foods factory each day are beaten and subjected to other horrific forms of abuse before they’re killed. And that shouldn’t be allowed to happen, not anywhere, but especially not here in Dogwood.”
The newscaster faced the camera. “You can find more information on our website at WJBV.com.”
Pete picked up his cell phone and dialed. “What the hell was that?” he asked when she answered.
“You saw me on the news?” Olivia asked.
“I just caught the end of it. Liv…this was a bad move.”
She sighed dramatically into the phone. “It wasn’t the best timing, but she just showed up on my doorstep with the camera rolling. What was I supposed to do, send her away?”
“Yes.”
She growled at his blunt answer. “Well that would have been a bad move too, because I might not have gotten her attention again later on. This news segment is going to drum up a lot of new support for my cause.”
“That may be, but you shouldn’t have gone on TV a week before your court date. You need the judge to see you as someone who’s learned her lesson.”
“And I have.” There was a new edge in her tone. “The last time I checked, it isn’t illegal to talk to a reporter.”
He rubbed his brow. “It’s a matter of perception. Not to mention, you’ve probably just pissed off all those workers again.”
“You know what? I don’t need a lecture. If I’d had a chance to think it over ahead of time, maybe I wouldn’t have done the interview, but she caught me off guard, and I went with it.”
“Olivia—”
“I have no regrets, so don’t you dare have them for me.” She paused, and the sound of dogs barking echoed through the phone. “What the—”
Alarm zipped up his spine. “What happened?”
“I don’t know. I heard a noise outside, and the dogs are going nuts.”
He stood from the couch, sliding his mostly uneaten pizza onto the coffee table. “Hang up, and dial 911.”
“So your esteemed colleagues can laugh at me again? No offense, deputy, but I’ll pass.”
He gripped the back of his neck. “Stop fucking around, Olivia. There could be someone outside. Call the police, now.”
“You know what?” Anger snapped over the line. “I think I’ll take my chances.”
The line clicked, and she was gone.
* * *
Olivia kicked the toppled trashcan and laughed. For a moment there, she’d been really scared. So scared that if she hadn’t glanced out the window and seen the snooping raccoon, she might have actually called the police.
And she was so glad she hadn’t. She could only imagine the many ways they’d have laughed at her for calling 911 over a raccoon in her trash.
Bailey and Scooby were still putting up a ruckus loud enough to wake the whole neighborhood, alternating between poking their heads in the trashcan and lunging in the direction the raccoon had run when they’d come outside.
She hustled them toward the front door, eager to get back inside and get them quiet. With the door closed and locked behind her, she collapsed in a fit of hysterical laughter at the very idea of her taking on a bunch of disgruntled Halverson employees with only Bailey and Scooby for protection.
She was a terrible person for letting Pete think the worst. She should call him back and let him know she was okay.
The thought had no sooner crossed her mind than she heard a vehicle pull into her driveway, followed by the slam of a car door. Her heart fired back up, but it was Pete’s SUV parked beside her Prius.
Pete stormed toward her front door.
She pulled it open ahead of him. “I already handled it.”
He stopped in front of her, dark eyes flashing, oozing protective alpha male from every pore. And oh, her poor hormones were so confused. She was still mad as hell at him, and yet it was all she could do not to fist her hands in his black T-shirt and kiss him.
“Handled what?” he demanded.
She shrugged. “Oh, half a dozen Halverson employees.”
He raked a hand through his hair. “Shit. You foolish, headstrong—”
She put a hand out. “Stop before you really piss me off. I’m kidding. It was a raccoon.”
He stared. “What?”
“A raccoon knocked over my trashcan. The dogs scared it away.”
Pete looked like he’d just had the wind knocked out of him. “A raccoon.”
“Yep.” Her nerves twitched, humming with residual fear, anger, and lust.
“And you just—” He grabbed her shoulders. “Fuck.”
And then he kissed her. All the restless energy she’d been holding onto spontaneously combusted at the feel of his lips on hers. She flung herself into his arms and kissed him back. His tongue danced with hers, igniting a fiery need that pulsed inside her, growing stronger and more urgent with each stroke of his tongue.
She slid her hands over his chest, feeling the hard contour of his pecs. His muscles tightened as her fingers roamed across them. A low groan rumbled through his chest, tickling her nerve endings. He smelled fresh like soap and aftershave, like he’d just taken a shower.
His hands cupped her ass, yanking her up against him. She felt his hard length against her belly, and she whimpered with frustration. He was so tall, and she was too short. She needed to feel him right where her body burned for him. She went up on her ti
ptoes, but it was no use. She couldn’t align their bodies.
“Olivia.” His voice was a growl, thick with lust.
They couldn’t do this. She knew that as well as he did. But she wanted him. God, she needed him more than she’d ever needed anything. Just one more minute…
He pulled away, breathing like he’d just scaled a mountain. The expression on his face was one of desperation. He swore under his breath, and with one final, scorching look, he strode out her front door, slamming it behind him.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Pete gritted his teeth and gripped the steering wheel. He couldn’t go home, not like this. The Forester had a full tank of gas so he pointed it toward the miles of country roads outside of town limits. He rolled the window down and let the cool air hit him like a slap in the face.
Maybe Mother Nature could slap some sense into him and help him regather his reins. Pete had always prided himself on being a man in control. And tonight he’d lost it. He’d gone off half-cocked, racing over to Olivia’s house as if a woman like her needed a Knight in Shining Armor. Olivia Bennett was more than capable of taking care of herself.
And then he’d kissed her.
And he was really fucking sorry that he wasn’t still kissing her, that he wasn’t in her bed right now, taking them both right out of their minds with pleasure. Instead he was driving around aimlessly, trying hard to forget how sweet she’d tasted and those soft, little whimpers she’d made as she tried to climb his body.
He’d barely found the strength to pull away. This was a problem.
He’d had a few one-night stands after the divorce, but they’d only left him feeling empty. Hollow. He hadn’t felt anything with those women, and it had scared him, so much that he hadn’t been with a woman in over a year.
That was the root of the problem with Olivia. He felt things with her, too many things. Things that went much deeper than their fiery chemistry or the fact that it had been way too long since he’d gotten laid. Olivia made him feel everything. And that might be even scarier than feeling nothing.
He made it home just past one a.m., exhausted and miserable. He fell into bed, knowing already that he wouldn’t sleep. An hour later, he rose and went into the kitchen to bake muffins. The women’s shelter would be getting a fresh delivery in the morning.
Sometime before dawn, he fell back into bed and slept a few restless hours. He rose with the sun and took Timber for a long run, grateful today was his day off because, mentally, he was spent.
He dropped off his batch of cinnamon muffins to the shelter, then spent a few hours at the shooting range, burning through his frustrations the only safe way he knew how. It was Tuesday, and he had to coach the boys’ soccer again this afternoon. He’d debated coming up with an excuse to skip it, but he’d never been one to shirk an obligation. Steve Barnes was counting on him to keep those kids occupied for a couple of hours, maybe even teach them a thing or two.
He was still troubled by his argument with Zach last week. The kid was struggling, and Pete wanted to help him.
By the time he got to the rec center that afternoon, he was feeling less sure about that. He arrived early to set up balls and cones for drills and found Zach sitting out back. Based on the smell clinging to his clothing and the frantic stubbing of his sneaker in the dirt, the kid had just smoked a cigarette.
“That shit will ruin your lungs, you know,” Pete said, as he sat beside Zach on the bottom step.
Zach looked over, defiance in his dark eyes. “Oh yeah? You gonna arrest me?”
“Nah. I’m just your soccer coach. But let me tell you what got me to quit smoking.”
“You smoked?”
Pete nodded. “In high school, for a bit. Who didn’t, right? But then I realized none of the girls wanted to kiss me because my breath stank. So I quit.”
“Sienna smokes. She gave me one to try. Wait—” Fear rose in Zach’s eyes.
Pete chuckled. “Seriously, quit thinking of me as a cop right now. I’m not here to get anyone in trouble. Just the opposite.”
“Well I never saw her smoke, so maybe she does, and maybe she doesn’t,” Zach hedged.
Pete stared out at the trees on the other side of the parking lot. “You’re a smart kid. I’m sure you’ll make the right decision.”
“I don’t like cops,” Zach said.
“What about soccer coaches?”
“Not sure I like them either.”
“You want to help me set up?”
Zach shrugged. “Yeah, okay.”
They walked back inside together. Pete showed him how to set up the cones and ran through a couple of drills with him before the other kids arrived.
“You’re good, you know,” he told the boy. “If you ever want to play, give me a call. The field behind the playground on Main Street is usually free in the evenings.”
“Maybe.” Zach sauntered off to chat with the other boys, who had arrived and been goofing off over by the locker room for the last five minutes or so.
Pete followed, bag of soccer balls in hand.
* * *
Olivia sat on the front steps of the rec center, hugging her knees. She was not at all sure Pete would want to see her, but she wasn’t one to run away from an awkward situation, and last night had definitely ended awkwardly.
“Olivia?”
She heard his voice behind her, and she stood to face him. He wore a blue T-shirt and gray athletic shorts, and he didn’t look at all like he had last Tuesday when she’d bumped into him leaving soccer practice.
The night she’d taken him to Jordan Lake.
“I just wanted to apologize,” she said.
“For what?” A smile creased the corners of his eyes. “The way I remember it, I kissed you and ran out on you, not the other way around.”
A rush of heat flooded through her. “That’s true. But I was being a foolish, headstrong—what else were you going to call me?”
He grimaced. “Pain in the ass?”
“I should have told you it was just a raccoon.”
His eyes narrowed. “Next time you hear a noise outside, you’ll call the police.”
Of course she would, but for some reason, she couldn’t resist messing with him. “As a compromise, I’ll punch in 911 and bring my phone out with me.”
He looked pained. “How am I supposed to sleep at night thinking about you running around outside chasing vandals in the dark?”
“There were no vandals.” And Pete didn’t look like he’d slept well regardless.
“Here’s an idea. Why don’t you get a motion-activated surveillance camera for the front of your house?”
Her brow wrinkled. “That sounds expensive.”
“The equipment isn’t that much. I’d be happy to come out and install it for you.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Liv—” he said, and her heart softened at the sound of her nickname on his lips.
“I really should be apologizing for screwing things up before I even met you. If I hadn’t broken the law, you wouldn’t have had to walk away last night.”
He didn’t blink. “If you hadn’t broken the law, I never would have met you, and I wouldn’t have even been there last night.”
She huffed an angry breath. “Well, I’m pissed at myself for it anyway.”
He touched her cheek. “You apologize too much. I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”
For a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her right there on the sidewalk outside the rec center. But the tenderness and affection in his eyes left her feeling just as breathless.
She gulped air, afraid to look away and break the connection between them.
“Your court date is on Monday. If the judge dismisses the charges against you…” The look in his eyes made her shiver with anticipation.
Her heart pounded. “If the charges are dropped?”
“I want you. You know that. But I can’t promise anything long-term. I’m divorced, and I don’t want to
go there again.”
Her spine stiffened. She did want to go there someday, and now that he’d put the thought in her head, she couldn’t shake the image of him waiting for her at the end of the aisle, looking drop-dead gorgeous in his dress blues. “Okay.”
“I just wanted to be clear about my intentions.”
“I appreciate that.”
“And I totally understand if it changes your feelings for me.”
“It doesn’t.” And that was true. She didn’t need a promise of forever, not yet anyway. And right now a fling with Pete sounded pretty damn irresistible. “You working on Monday?”
“Until three.”
“Meet me up at the lake around six. It’s time for your next meditation lesson.”
* * *
Pete watched her go, hoping like hell she had plans for something more exciting than meditation at the lake. He wasn’t sure it was even possible to meditate with a hard-on, and he sure as hell couldn’t be alone with her without getting aroused.
Reluctantly, he headed for his Forester and drove home. For once, exhaustion seemed to have overtaken everything else. He walked Timber outside to pee, then collapsed into bed, asleep before his head even hit the pillow.
He dreamed of Olivia, naked beneath him. He buried his face in her hair, thrusting inside her until the weight of the world lifted away. He woke with a start, his body damp with sweat, his dick hard enough to cut steel.
With a groan, he rolled to his back. The clock on the bedside table read one twenty-two, which meant he’d slept a solid six hours, the longest stretch of sleep he’d had in weeks.
If only it hadn’t ended with him alone in bed in the middle of the night, sporting one hell of a hard-on.
Timber leaped onto his chest, those enormous paws knocking the breath right out of him. When he’d recovered enough air to speak, Pete cursed his dog and rolled out of bed. He shrugged into a pair of lounge pants over his boxers and headed for the stairs.
Pete baked until the sun rose. The women’s shelter would be getting another batch of muffins later that morning. He showered, then checked his bank account balance from his phone. His paycheck had cleared, right on time.
