Oh, God! Stay strong—stand your ground! “Thanks for breakfast. Can’t think of a better way to start the day than with fresh doughnuts and coffee. Makes me miss home.”
“Home?”
“New Orleans”, she said as she smiled. “The first thing I’m gonna do when I get back is head to Café Du Monde and order myself a chicory coffee and two beignets!” She said as she gestured with her fingers.
She watched as he drew in a deep breath and slowly exhaled through his mouth. “Um, I’m should probably get back to the house; I’ve got a lot of work to do in the darkroom today.”
Grant searched her face. She was holding back.
But why?
He wanted to push until she revealed the reasons behind her sudden about-face, wanted to shake her until the walls she’d erected crumbled to the ground. But what good would that do? She’d only shove him further away and he refused to let that happen. He loved her. If she needed space, he’d give it to her.
But he refused to give up.
He’d managed to stay in control until he pulled into the driveway of her home, and then his restraint failed him. Shoving his truck into park, he leaned over the console and palmed the side of her face, drawing her in for a kiss.
The moment she felt his lips against her mouth, her will dissolved. His kiss comforted, quieting her doubts, easing her fears. She gave in at first, reacquainting her tongue with his taste. Her hands roamed over his hard chest, past his broad shoulders, before finally fisting in his hair. She still wanted him—all of him—for the rest of her life. She wanted to cling to this man for all of eternity.
She wanted what she couldn’t have…
She tasted like coffee, fresh citrus, and desire. He wanted to reel her back in, needed her to remember how incredible they were together. He put everything he had into their kiss, hoping to communicate how important she’d become in his life. And how necessary she was to his existence.
A soft needy moan escaped from the back of her throat as she surrendered. He savored the sound as it reverberated through his body. And as if suddenly realizing that the sensual sigh had come from her, she stiffened in his arms and tried to pull away.
“Grant—”
He allowed her to unseal their mouths, but he didn’t release her completely. Resting his forehead against hers, he asked the questions that’d been plaguing him for days. “Damn it, Livvy, what the hell is going on? Why are you so determined to shove me away?”
“I’m not pushing you away—”
Releasing her, he leaned back in the driver’s seat and after expelling a puff of air from his lungs, he pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. His jaw was clenched tightly, so much so that he feared his teeth would shatter. “So going on a date with Jarrod isn’t pushing me away?”
“It was just dinner—”
“—It was a date…” With the back of his head still resting on the seat, he turned his head toward her. “When did you decide we were gonna start seeing other people?”
Olivia wrapped her arms around her body, enveloping herself in as much comfort as she could conjure up. “Since when did you decide that we were exclusive?” she countered.
“Gee, Livvy, I don’t know—I guess it was right before you were attacked when you practically begged me to fuck you! That sound about right?” he asked angrily. “You set the pace, remember?”
Moisture stung the back of her eyes, but she refused to reveal how deeply his words and surly tone affected her. Lowering her head, she clenched them shut. “I’m… I’m sorry you misunderstood, Grant. You’ve been a really good friend to me and—”
“—Friend?” he interjected. “Is that all I am to you?—just a friend?”
God, no! You’re so much more—you’re everything…
Could she do this? Could she really do this? — walk away from this man with no regrets?
You have no choice. “I’m so sorry, Grant. I honestly never meant to hurt you.”
“Yeah”, he uttered softly.
It was a tragedy to walk away from what they’d shared, but it would be far worse months from now when he’d likely leave her.
Olivia opened the door to his truck and forced herself to take one final look at the man she wanted, but couldn’t have. She’d dealt the final blow; mauled his heart. She needed to get to her room quickly; the levee was moments away from bursting and gravity would soon take hold of her tears.
A series of soft knocks temporarily suspended the implosion of self-pity and guilt she’d suffered since she’d exited Grant’s truck earlier that morning. Olivia wiped at her eyes with her fingertips, expunging the vertical path of her tears, and then quickly shoved her personal portfolio underneath her pillow.
“Come in.”
Ty lazily opened the door. “Hey squirt”, he greeted as he joined her on the edge of the bed.
“Hey”, she answered softly.
Leaning forward, he stared straight ahead. There was no doubt about it: she’d been crying. Sure, she’d wiped her tears before he entered, but she couldn’t hide the red tint of her eyes or the swollen shadowy skin surrounding them.
The discovery pummeled his heart. He couldn’t remember her ever crying—not even when their parents had died. She’d always kept her emotions hidden from view, under lock and key; their sudden liberation was monumental.
“Last night with Jarrod… that was a little… unexpected.”
“Jesus, Joseph and Mary, you sound just like Grant! It was just dinner, okay?”
“Okay… Can I ask you one more question, though? Why are you crying? Did Grant hurt you?—is that it? Were you using Jarrod for revenge?”
“That’s more than one question”, she teased.
“Alright, let’s start with the first one then…”
Olivia covered her mouth with one of her hands, desperately trying to withhold the despair threatening to flee. Heavy tears rained down her cheeks as her fortitude faltered. “No. Grant’s been… he’s been amazing. He didn’t hurt me, Ty—I hurt him…”
“Wow, that’s definitely a first! Don’t think anyone’s done that before. He’s usually the heartbreaker.”
“Yeah”, she whispered. Wiping at her eyes again, she stood from the bed. “What’s done is done… If you need me, I’ll be in my darkroom.”
Ty wiped his hand down his face as she drifted toward the door. Damn it, he didn’t know which was worse: thinking that she never cried or witnessing it firsthand.
The latter—most definitely the latter!
Glancing around the room, his eyes landed on a dark object wedged underneath her pillow: her personal portfolio. He hadn’t seen it in years. The leather covering was worn around the edges, indicating it’d gotten a lot of use over the years.
Opening it was the closest thing to time travel he’d ever experienced. Suddenly, he was propelled back in time, eighteen years ago. He’d never forget that dreaded phone call, or the brave face Olivia had exhibited when he’d arrived hours later. That was the first pivotal moment in her young life, but it certainly wasn’t the last.
As he thumbed through the pages, he relived each moment. Not all were bad—there were good moments, too. Her thirteenth birthday: he’d survived a slumber party with eight of her childhood friends—and the shaving cream fight that materialized at the stroke of midnight. Her senior year: crowned Miss Winterfest. Early 2008: her first cover at Adversity Magazine…
Each moment—good and bad—molded her into the person she was today. She was a survivor, a crusader. Sometimes he envied her bravery, her courage. Hell, his wife had left him with a Dear John letter and a broken heart months ago; divorce papers arrived back in October and he still lacked the strength to sign on the dotted line.
Why?
Because he wasn’t brave—not like Olivia. He’d been in denial for so long he’d become complacent with his heartache, idle—
“Holy shit”, he mumbled as he turned to the last page. Olivia’s feelings for Grant were far more
serious than she’d let on and the discovery of this picture was proof.
CHAPTER 21
“Say somethin’ ”, Olivia prodded. She stared at her best friend for several moments, Kendall’s wide eyes and slack jaw indicating she’d taken her by surprise. But the real clincher: she’d rendered Kendall speechless. That was certainly a first.
“Kendall…? Are you still with me?”
“I’m your best friend”, she began.
“Yes.”
“And you know I love you to pieces.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And you know that I will always tell you the truth—no matter how awful it may be.”
“Yes, I’m—”
“What kind of dope have you been smokin’? Grant Womack is head-over-heels in love with you! Get your head out of your ass so you can see what’s right in front of you!—or in this case”, she whispered as she cupped her hands around her mouth, “what’s behind you.”
Olivia glanced over her shoulder as Grant trekked toward the pool tables along the back wall of the saloon. It didn’t appear as though he’d noticed her. At least that’s what she attempted to convince herself. It hurt far too much to think he’d purposely avoided her.
Yeah, like you’ve managed to do countless times.
Turning around, she shrugged her shoulders. “I have no control over his feelings, but I do have control over mine. I don’t wanna lead him on. He’s a good guy; soon he’ll realize I did us both a huge favor.”
“This must be my lucky day”, Jarrod said as he approached the varnished wood bar. “The two prettiest females in town, sitting together. Santa must’ve thought I was a good boy this year!”
“Flattering will get you everywhere, Jarrod”, Kendall affirmed.
“So will a drink. How ‘bout it?—what can I get you ladies?”
“Nothing for me”, Kendall announced as she finished the last of her gin and tonic. “I have to be at the pharmacy early in the morning.”
“Okay—what about you, Olivia…?”
Torture: that’s what this was, Grant acknowledged. Mutilate him, waterboard him—hell, hook his ass up to a car battery and zap him—anything was better than this. He’d noticed Olivia the moment he’d arrived. She’d been sitting at the bar with Kendall, recounting her date with Jarrod no doubt. He ignored the way she looked in her faded jeans; ignored how she’d tied her flannel shirt in a knot at her narrow waist; ignored how she pursed her plump lips together when she took a pull from her imported beer.
Yeah, you ignored her alright…
Okay, so maybe his eyes revisited the bar from time to time. Was that so terrible?
No, at least not at first. It only became a real problem when Jarrod arrived. He’d turned on that charismatic charm and the next thing Grant knew, Kendall was heading out the door, leaving the town’s hottest new couple alone for a second date!
“Alright, Womack, how much are we wagering this round?” Randall asked as he placed the billiard balls inside the triangle on the pool table.
“Forty.”
“Forty? C’mon, man—I’ve got debts to pay! Make it seventy-five and I’ll let you break.”
“Debts to pay?—to who?” he asked as he turned his attention back to Randall. “You inherited your house and your truck’s been paid-off for months.”
“It’s nothing serious—I just owe a buddy of mine some cash.”
Grant picked up the small cube of chalk and twisted it back and forth over the tip of his cue stick and then placed it on the side of the billiard table. “You’re not in any kind of trouble, are you?”
“No—but you’re ‘bout to be if you don’t hurry up with the break shot”, Randall teased.
Olivia closed one of her eyes and focused on the dartboard in front of her. It didn’t help; she still saw two of them.
“Anyone ever tell you how cute you look when you’re trying to concentrate?” Jarrod asked.
“Is that your subtle way of distracting me? The board’s a little fuzzy, but I can still make it out!”
Jarrod shook his head and smiled. “Here, let me help”, he offered as he slid off the wooden stool.
“Does it look like I need help?” She asked as she placed her hands on her hips.
“Do you really want me to answer that…?”
“Okay”, she conceded, “point taken.” She could feel the warmth of his body as he approached from behind. An odd zing zipped up her spine as one of his hands wrapped around her midsection, tugging her closer. His other hand assisted her in launching the dart.
“Hey, man, you gonna shoot?—or are you gonna stand there and eye Olivia all night?” Randall inquired. “I mean—don’t get me wrong—I’d much rather spend the night lookin’ at her than you. But—”
“Sorry, bro.”
“Do me a favor: picture Jarrod’s face on the cue ball and smack the shit out of it so I can hurry up and collect my winnings.”
Grant walked around the edge of the pool table and got into position for his next shot. He eased the stick over his thumb back and forth several times to get the feel of it, when suddenly movement up ahead at the dartboard snagged his undivided attention.
The dart struck against the board with a heavy thud. She may have been seeing double, but both images indicated that she’d just missed the bull’s eye by a fraction. Jarrod tightened his grip as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. Another strange sensation came over her, and it wasn’t until he spoke again that she recognized why.
“Good shot, Blondie!” Jarrod felt the overly intoxicated beauty clutched in his arms petrify.
Where do you think you’re going, Blondie?
I sure am sorry ‘bout all this, Blondie. Things would’ve turned out much better for you if you’d only cooperated.
Why don’t you make yourself useful: pose that pretty lil’ ass in front of the camera instead of sneaking around, taking pictures of me. Stay out of my way or next time, things might not turn out so well for you…
Oh. My. God.
“What’s the matter, Olivia?” Jarrod whispered against her ear. “You act like you just saw a ghost.”
She forced herself to turn her head toward him. She needed to gage his reaction. It wasn’t as if she were the only blonde in town; maybe his choice of words had been merely coincidental. “Or maybe an arsonist…”
Something wasn’t right—something didn’t feel right. Grant shoved the tip of his stick against the cue ball. After missing his target, he took a seat on the wood stool along the back wall and watched helplessly as Jarrod wrapped his arms around Olivia and buried his face in the crook of her neck.
Rage and fury saturated his dark eyes and that’s when she knew. “Damn it, it was you”, she mumbled.
“Careful, Blondie, I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”
They weren’t moving—they were just standing there. Grant took another pull from his beer.
Why the hell was he still here? He should’ve left the moment he realized Olivia was sitting at the bar.
What was he trying to prove?—that he was unfazed by her sudden interest in Jarrod?—that he no longer cared what she did or who she did it with?
If that’s what he was trying to do, he was failing miserably.
Gripping the bottle, he raised it to his lips again—and then froze…
Jarrod couldn’t believe he’d slipped and called her “Blondie”. It’d rolled off his tongue with such ease. He was hoping that she didn’t remember, but the sudden rigidness of her body against his and the unmistakable terror in her big green eyes said otherwise.
Now, he had to think fast—before she screamed and exposed his identity to everyone in the crowded saloon. “Let’s take a walk”, he said as he gripped her arm above her elbow. “You look like you could use some fresh air.”
“No, I—”
He strengthened his grip and lowered his voice for emphasis. “It’s not up for discussion, Olivia. Either you do as I ask, or someone you really care
about will suffer. Let’s go—now.”
She didn’t know where he was taking her or what he’d do with her once they arrived at their destination, but she did know one thing: she wasn’t going to allow him to hurt anyone she cared about.
Olivia had turned her head toward Jarrod. At first, Grant thought he was about to witness a kiss, but then he caught a glimpse of her expression as her eyes traveled up the contours of Jarrod’s face: recognition and… unadulterated fear.
Jarrod leaned in, whispered something in her ear, and then gripped her arm just above her elbow.
“Your shot, bro”, Randall announced.
Pivoting, the town’s hottest new couple headed back toward the bar. Jarrod reached into his pocket and tossed a few bills toward the bartender.
“You spacing out on me again? I said it was your shot.”
Something wasn’t right. His gut told him they weren’t planning a leisurely stroll down the boardwalk. Rising from the stool, Grant reached into his wallet and placed a one-hundred dollar bill on the pool table.
“Listen, Randall, I’m gonna have to forfeit this round. Something’s come up.”
“Ah, man—I don’t have change for a one-hundred dollar—”
Grant slapped him on the back of the shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Don’t worry ‘bout it—consider it my forfeiting fee.”
Grant rushed toward the front door and stumbled into the brisk dark night. The moon was hidden behind a thick blanket of clouds. He looked left and then right. “Damn it”, he mumbled. There was no sign of them anywhere.
Jarrod had a death grip on her arm. His long stride was no match for her small five foot, four inch frame; he’d practically dragged her alongside him. “Listen, Jarrod, it’s been fun—really—but it’s been a long day. I think I’m gonna call it a night.”
The laughter that escaped him was somber and evil-like. Where was the kind, funny, interesting man that’d taken her to dinner several days earlier? She wondered.
Picture Perfect (Butler Island) Page 18
