by Olivia Hayle
I block the door with my knee. “Out.”
Austin looks up at me for a few seconds. His dark eyes are imploring, begging me to change my mind, before he slinks back. He lies down at the foot of the stairs with a sigh.
“Sorry, but I just cleaned.”
“You’re right, he has no business in here. Unlike me…” I pull the door shut behind me and reach for her. She smells like some sort of herb, all lemony and fresh and sweet.
Lucy smiles up at me and it’s the best antidote to my troubles. All thoughts of Gavin, of my nightmare and my hand on her shoulder, all of it just disappears.
I run a hand between her shoulder-blades. “Who massages the masseuse?”
She sighs against my neck. “No one, that’s who.”
I motion for her to turn around and put my hands on her shoulders. They look large and rough against her soft neck. Gently, I knead my thumbs into her muscles.
Lucy sighs again. “God, you’re good.”
“Maybe I should fire you,” I say. “I could probably run this spa myself.”
Her laughter is husky. “I’d love to see you try.”
I pull her closer and move my hands to her front. “Don’t you think I can? One hot stone here…” I smooth past her breast. “Another here. And then one here…”
She keels over, laughing. “Oliver!”
I catch her around the waist again and smile against her lips. “It’s not a bad idea.”
“Maybe I should try it on you sometime.”
“Mmm.”
We don’t talk for a good long while after that. She finally pulls away with a small sigh, her lips swollen from my kisses, and rests her head against my shoulder. She plays with the buttons on my shirt. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
"After last night, I mean. We can talk about it if you want, or we can ignore it entirely. I'm here for you."
I’m here for you, like you are for someone who’s sick. I swallow and school my features into a neutral expression. I know I needed help. Why was it still so hard to hear?
“Thank you,” I say against her hair. “Let’s not talk about it for now.”
“Okay.” She pulls away and smiles again, the megawatt smile that made me feel like I was staring into the sun. “I’ve had another great idea.”
“You have?”
“Yes. Your staff does a lot of manual labor. Pulling, lifting, standing… that sort of thing.”
“Yeah, they do.”
“And I know you offer health insurance, as an employer. But I was thinking… what if staff massage therapy sessions were included? Once a quarter or something? I’m not a chiropractor but I could work on tense muscles, see if postures need to be corrected. It’s important, especially when lifting and carrying stuff. It might reduce injuries.”
Her eyes are alight with excitement.
The image in my mind is terrible. I see Jack and Tim inside that small room of hers, unclad with only a towel across their waists… her hands on them, the oil and the burning oils. Hell no.
“Really?”
“Yes!” Her hands flit about, she’s so excited. “Lots of big companies do it. It could keep them in better physical condition in the long run, too, and reduce sick days. Happier employees mean a happier boss. Win-win.”
I shake my head. “Yeah, no, that’s not happening.”
“What do you mean? Would the expense be too much, do you think?”
“Lucy, no way in hell are my farmhands going to be nude in here. Absolutely not. Good initiative, though.” I run a hand through my hair. What was she thinking? Gavin’s words, all those weeks ago at the pub, came back to me with a vengeance. Jack’s older brother had been at that table. He hadn’t participated, but still… We weren’t taking any risks.
Lucy is just staring at me. Her face is perfectly neutral, but her eyes look unlike anything I’d seen before. She looks crushed.
Shit.
“Luce, I didn’t mean that… I’m sure you’d be able to help them. But the answer’s still no.”
I don’t know what she’s thinking, and it isn’t until she takes a small step away from me that I realize she’s not disappointed.
She’s furious.
“I can’t believe you.”
“Lucy, you have to see that it’s not going to work. I’m not about to let—“
“Let? I’m so stupid. I actually thought you were different, but you’re just like everyone else here. Judgmental.”
I cross my arms. “That’s not true.”
“It’s not? Then why don’t you think it’s a good idea for me to treat the male staff? Go on. Say it to my face, I dare you.” Angry tears flood her eyes. “I’m not sure what’s worse. How angry I am at you, or how disappointed I am.”
“You’re overreacting. Lucy, it’s just not—“ I break off. She’s right.
To articulate what I’m thinking would be to offend her. Fuck. I stare at her, unable to think of a single thing to say to make this better. My mind has gone blank.
The silence stretches on between us.
She grabs her bag. “Fine. Thank you for this enlightening discussion, Oliver. Good to know what you really think of me.”
The door to the spa slams behind her as she walks out.
I don’t follow.
21
Lucy
The bike ride back to town is miserable. The wind on my face is enough to keep any tears from falling, but as soon as I reach the bakery the facade cracks. I can't let my aunt and uncle see me like this; one look and they'll ask me what's wrong.
I head to Ricky’s instead and order a large ice tea. It’s not even three in the afternoon yet, and the town is quiet. I look out the window at the broad sidewalk and the trees that shade Main Street. There’s not a person in sight.
I wish I had someone to talk to.
I wish I still had my old friends, in my old apartment, in my old life.
I take a sip of the sweet, cold drink and sigh. I can wish all I want and it still won’t change a thing. Besides, even if I miss the comfort of that life, it was built on sand.
The thought of Oliver hurts. I thought we’d gotten somewhere together, that he’d opened up with me. That we’d gotten closer to something real. I felt like he had seen me, the real me, in a way that no one really ever had.
I was wrong, though. It seemed like he didn’t really know me at all. I could still see the refusal in his eyes and hear his astonished laughter.
Absolutely not, Lucy.
His voice had been hard.
The thought of my farmhands on that table? No.
I take another sip of my drink and try to stop the feeling of helplessness from welling up. It seems like everyone is determined to see my profession as something untoward, something dirty. But what Oliver had insinuated was wrong—and I knew it. I’d never given a happy ending in my life and I wasn’t about to start now.
I’ll make him see that, too. And if he didn’t trust me?
Well, that was his problem.
I nod to myself. You got this, Lucy. I’m not going to run from this place. I have family here, and I have friends. Sarah, and Mandy. Tim and Jack.
Oliver doesn’t have to like me. Hell, he doesn’t even have to trust me. He just has to let me do my job to the very best of my ability. All I need is to save enough money so I can afford the physical therapy classes, and then I can open up my own clinic. It is years away, sure, but the goal gives me something to work towards.
A future and a purpose.
I drum my fingers against the plastic tablecloth. I need to make some roots here, and I want to talk to someone. I shoot Mandy a quick text.
Her reply is nearly instant. Not a lot to do in reception today, it seems. I’m down!
Fantastic. I smile and slip out of the booth. Lucy Rhodes 2.0 suffered a minor setback, yes, but she isn’t gone. I have a goal, I have a purpose, and it doesn’t matter if an attractive, brooding, charming ranch-owner doesn’t believe in me.
I believe in me.
“There’s really only one place in Claremont for drinks?”
“On a Thursday night? Yes.” Mandy smiles and slips her hand under my arm. “Don’t worry, though. If it’s boring, we can go back to my place and have a drink there. Watch TV, play some games…”
I glance down at my kitten heels, uncomfortable despite the barely-there heel. I've always been a sucker for comfort. “Ugh. Don’t tempt me.”
“You look great, by the way. Perfectly Claremont-evening appropriate.”
“Is that a specific style?”
“Oh, yes.” She pauses on the sidewalk and cocks her hip. “We’re modeling laidback chic, the autumn collection.”
I grin at her. “Milan and Paris better watch out.”
Her long hair is up in a ponytail and she’s wearing the cutest tunic dress. I know for a fact, though, that she has a camera in her crossbody bag. I’d found that she brought it everywhere. She said she never knew when the opportunity for a great picture might strike.
Mandy tugs lightly at a strand of my hair. “I’m glad we’re doing this.”
“Me too. Why haven't we gone out earlier?”
“Right? Honestly, what's our excuse?”
“Laziness,” I suggest.
“A lack of imagination?”
“It’s a good thing we’re working on our vices tonight.”
Mandy nods, pretending to be serious. “My mother would be so proud.”
The door to the Red Flag is wide open and the bartender nods hello as we enter. Mandy waves back, a smile on her face. Even if she’s fairly new to this place, it’s clear that she’s been here a lot longer than me.
“Let’s grab one of the tables in the back.”
We order a glass of wine each and sink into a booth. There are considerably more people here than I expected. A group of men cheer loudly at a sports game in the corner. An elderly couple in the booth next to us are sharing a platter of nachos, holding hands across the table.
“Is this where the town goes after Ricky’s is closed?”
Mandy takes a sip of her wine. “Pretty much, yeah.”
“It's the great Claremont migration,” I muse. “From the bakery in the morning to the diner at lunch and finally to the pub in the evening.”
Mandy grins. “Thinking about shooting a nature documentary?”
“Yes, but I don't have a fancy English accent for the narration.” I sigh, disappointed. “No awards for me.”
“When’s the next yoga class?”
“On Saturday. Will you be there?”
“Absolutely. My body has gotten used to all those downward dogs now,” she says, pretending to stretch. “It’s become like a drug. I need my fix.”
I chuckle. “Working out is like that.”
“Do you still like your job up at the ranch?”
“God, yes. It’s almost a stupidly beautiful place to work, isn’t it?”
Mandy grins. "Yes. I bring my camera to work every day. Sometimes I'm there long before reception opens, just to photograph the sunrise. It's unreal when it rises over the meadows."
“Have you ever thought of working as a wedding photographer?”
“Oh, I’m not…. I couldn’t.” She shakes her head. “I don’t have any formal training.”
“So? There are a ton of weddings at the ranch this summer, and it would be a great chance to practice.”
"Well, as ideas go, it's not terrible,” she says. "I'll think about it."
“Absolutely, and when you're ready, go talk to Sarah. She'll love it!”
Mandy laughs and touches her glass to mine. “Fine, boss, I will.”
It doesn’t take long until she asks me about our actual boss. I suspected she had an inkling about us—much like Sarah—and for the first time, I'm happy to talk about it. I want to.
So… you and Oliver, huh?”
I take a strengthening sip of my wine. “Yes. It’s complicated, though.”
“What isn't in life?”
“You’re right,” I say, playing with the foot of my wine glass. “We had an argument today. It’s silly, really, but… I’m still angry.”
She nods. “It takes time.”
“Yeah. I think we just need to talk it out, if that’s something he’s willing to do.”
Mandy’s smile turns crooked. “They’re not always the best at talking, are they?”
I get the feeling she’s not just referring to Oliver. “No, they’re not.”
By our second glass of wine, Mandy and I have decided that I’m going to teach her how to ride, that she’s going to take professional photos of the spa studio, and that we’re going to institute regular movie nights.
“Can you really smell fresh bread and cookies all the way up to your studio?”
“Yes.”
She leans forward. “Do you have access to the bakery all the times?”
“Yes, I suppose.”
“Can you eat Rhodes cookies whenever you want?”
I laugh at the expression on her face. “Well, no. Most of it is for sale, and besides, if I ate as much as I… What?”
Mandy isn't looking at me and I follow her gaze to the front door.
“Oh.”
“Tonight of all nights, huh?”
“They just had to.”
We watch in silence as Logan and Oliver head to the bar. They’re tall, imposing figures in the dimly lit space. I see Oliver nodding at the bartender, but Logan says nothing, hands shoved in his pockets. Both of the men scan the bar, their eyes darting over booths and corners. Surveying their surroundings.
They see us at the same time.
Mandy leans closer t me. “They’re going to come over.”
“Yes. Do you want them to sit with us?”
“No.”
“Me neither.”
That's all the discussion we have time for because two former Marines are heading straight our way. Oliver's eyes are neutral and unreadable, and I have no idea what he's thinking. Does he regret what happened earlier? Anger is still alive, burning like acid in my stomach. I believe in me, I repeat to myself.
Logan and Oliver stop by our table, shoulder to shoulder. Oliver's blue gaze flicks between me and Mandy. “I didn't know you two were going out tonight.”
“Didn’t know you were, either.”
Logan shoots me a small, crooked smile. “Spur of the moment.”
I smile back at him—because I’m not angry at him—but his attention inevitably drifts back to Mandy. Her fingers are moving rapidly around the base of her wineglass.
“How are you?”
She nods. “I’m good. Really good.”
Oliver takes a small step closer to my side of the booth. “We need to talk.”
“We do.”
He nods to the front door. “Let’s.”
I cross my arms. “Not right now. I’m with Mandy and we haven’t finished our drinks yet.”
She’s still talking to Logan, but I can see that her jaw is tight. I don’t know what happened between them, but regardless, she told me that she didn’t want them to join us. I'm not about to ditch a friend.
Oliver lets out a breath. The control is costing him—I can see it in his eyes. “Fine,” he says. “We’ll be close by.”
Logan’s voice is soft when he says goodbye to Mandy. “Have a nice night.”
“You too.”
Practically every eye in the bar follows them as they take a seat in the booth across from ours. They’re too far to be able to hear what we say, but close enough to keep an eye on us.
I roll my eyes. “So overbearing.”
Mandy nods. “God, yes. The worst.”
“Are you alright?”
“Yes. It’s just… Logan and I have history.”
“I’ve gathered.”
“It’s a long time ago, and it’s in the past,” she says, her voice firm. “I’m not starting that up again. I… I can’t. But at the same time, I don’t feel like h
e’s letting me move on.”
“Have you told him that?”
She stares up at the ceiling. “Yes, many times. I hate that I hurt him every time I make that clear. It’s complicated.”
I reach out and put a hand over hers. “We can leave if you’d like. Truly. I do have cookies at home, and I’m sure we can find a bottle of wine, too. Get an early start on our promised movie nights.”
Her smile is warm. “Thank you, Luce. But we can’t let them win.”
“You’re right.” I raise my glass to hers again. “This is our town too.”
She touches it to mine. “And we’re strong, independent women.”
We carry on with the rest of our evening as if the two men sneaking glances at us from across the room don't exist. I almost manage to forget about the two dark blue eyes boring a hole in the back of my head. We’re discussing whether we should get another round of drinks when someone sidles up to our table.
Again?
I look up, ready to take the fight, only to be struck silent.
“Hello, girls.” Gavin's smile is sly.
“Hi.”
He leans against the booth, blocking my view of Oliver and Logan. Don’t come over, don’t come over.
“Is this your first time here?”
“Yes.”
“Care if I join you?”
I open my mouth to respond, but Mandy cuts me off. “We’re enjoying a girls night out, actually. But thank you.”
“I wouldn’t want to interrupt that, now would I?” He bends down towards me with a small smile. “I trust you haven’t forgotten about my offer?”
“No, I haven’t, which is why I’d like you to leave.”
He straightens with a scowl, like he didn’t actually believe me the first time. Well, hear me loud and clear, buddy. Not going to happen.
“Now, listen here sweetheart, I don’t know what you’re—“
But Gavin's luck has run out. Oliver and Logan have moved like silent shadows, appearing suddenly on either side of him. They're not smiling.
Oliver places a hand gently on Gavin’s shoulder, but there’s menace in that light touch. “Are you bothering these ladies, Whittaker?”
“Of course not.”
The tension is already high and getting higher by the second. We need to defuse this somehow. “We were having a chat, but Gavin was just leaving. Isn’t that right, Gavin?”