His groin.
“Oooph!” Sean curled into a ball, grabbed himself, and tried to breathe through the pain. Oh, sure. The ram he managed to avoid but this little bit of fluff . . .
God, if his brothers saw him now . . . Laid low by a baby goat and a stuffed animal brought to life. It’d be funny if it’d happened to anyone but him. He’d love to see Bry in this position.
The dog came back, its little eyebrows quirking up as it cocked its head.
“Oh sure. Now you show up. All I had to do was get kneed in the nuts for you to listen? Great, dog. What’s your name anyway?”
The thing wagged its stubby tail as if this were the first time he’d seen anyone all day and licked Sean on the nose, then sat down and looked at him expectantly. Hopefully. Trustingly.
Ah, the loyalty and love of an animal, just like Livvy had said. Given the lack of it in her life, he could see why she had so many.
Hell. He didn’t need this. He didn’t want to understand her. To feel bad for her. To want to make it all go away for her.
Millions of dollars, Manley. This place could be your gold mine. Isn’t that what you want?
Yes. It was.
Except now he was out of commission, kneed in the nuts by a poodle. Not the ram, or Rhett or even Ringo, but a poodle. His brothers were definitely not going to find out about this.
A flash of pain shot through him. Sonofabitch. He needed an ice pack.
And he’d get one—as soon as he could walk again. And breathe. Breathing was a good idea.
He inhaled, sucking every ounce of oxygen he could into his lungs, focusing inward, ignoring the pain.
He did it again, and this time, the pain began to dissipate. Thank God.
He took one more deep breath and opened his eyes.
To see an eagle.
Right there. In front of him. Well, about fifteen feet above him, but still, it was an eagle. An emblem of sorts. On a plaque. Like the presidential seal.
Under the banner of an eagle.
Thank God something had finally gone his way.
The dog licked his nose again. Okay, make that two things.
Sean raised himself onto his elbows and ruffled the dog’s ears over. “Did you plan this?” He was rewarded with another lick.
A couple more minutes—and several goose nips to the shoulder—later, Sean had recovered enough to climb the ladder to what would normally be the hayloft, but was, here, used for storing boxes. More boxes. Lots of boxes. All over the place. He wouldn’t relish going through those, but God, the lawyers, and fate willing, he’d like to get the chance to.
Just off the edge of the loft, the eagle was mounted on a wooden plaque cut in the same shape. And there, between the two layers, was another clue. No note from Merriweather this time, but the clue said it all.
Sir Frederick’s strategy, a puzzle for the enemy,
Ensured our family’s legacy.
His reward, commemorated in lands and silver plate
Had been hard-earned, not left to Fate.
So with this font of knowledge, Olivia, I request
That you find six more clues to claim what I bequest.
Below him, the poodle—whose name he still couldn’t remember—was running circles around a goat who’d decided it’d had enough and had plopped onto the floor and started bleating. Her mama came trotting out from the chicken area and bleated back. Which got an answering call from the rest of her kids and a headbutt by the ram into the post supporting the center of the loft.
Sean’s tablet went sailing out of his hands and shattered on the concrete floor below on impact.
Great.
Sean exhaled and leaned against the wall that spanned the front of the barn, looking out through the bank of windows along the back until the post stopped shaking.
Hell of a view. Or it would be if he could see. Sean turned off the light switch they’d conveniently included up here.
The animals quieted down, which was a win as far as he was concerned, but an even bigger win was what was out there.
Moonlight shone across the vast expanse of Martinson lands. Lands. One of the words in the clue.
Another one was puzzle. Like the answer to this one that was right out there.
The maze.
Mazes were puzzles. And font was another word for fountain. There was a fountain in the middle of the maze. He knew because he’d had someone give him an estimate to up the power on the plumbing so the waterfall would show above the hedgerow.
He’d learned that it’d be less costly to cut the hedges down enough for the current plume height, and Sean was still debating which avenue he’d go when the time came, because that was years’ worth of growth on those hedges.
He had to hand it to Merriweather; this clue was pretty clever. Which meant her mind was working right up until the end and she’d known exactly what she was doing.
Sean got a sick feeling in his stomach. She’d led him on. Promised him things she’d had no intention of delivering. Or maybe she wanted to see which one of them wanted the estate more and was willing to do whatever it took to get it.
Yes, Merriweather would appreciate that sort of reasoning.
Sean climbed down the ladder, cleaned up the broken tablet, and whistled for the poodle. “Come on, dog. Time to be getting home. You can see your”—he checked under the goat—“girlfriend tomorrow.”
While he was checking out the maze.
His cell phone rang. Sean didn’t recognize the number, but with all the calls he had out to potential investors, he wasn’t about to ignore it. “Hello?”
“Sean? It’s Livvy.”
Silly that his heart thudded. “Hi. Is everything okay? How’d you get my number?”
“Your sister. I called the office and asked to speak to you.”
Mac was way too obvious. She’d never give out employees’ phone numbers if they were real employees. He knew exactly why she’d given Livvy his. “Is everything all right?”
“That’s what I wanted to ask you. I wanted to see how you were making out.”
He knew what she’d said, realized that she’d added a how in there, but all Sean heard was making out in Livvy’s voice and he was hard in an instant. Seriously, Livvy needed to brand her unique whatever-it-was that turned him into an eighteen-year-old and sell it. She’d make a killing and wouldn’t need this place, thereby solving everyone’s problem.
“. . . because Davy doesn’t like when I leave.”
Davy. That was the poodle’s name.
“And Reggie could use a kind word or two. I know he doesn’t understand it, but if you use a pleasant tone and maybe give him a few extra dog biscuits, he should be good for the night.”
“One step ahead of you.” Sean looked into the pig’s stall. All of the biscuits were gone and there were crumbs sprinkled on the bedding around him as he snored away contentedly.
“Oh. Well that’s good. And what about the geese?”
Sean made a quick count. He thought there were only three of them. “They’re, uh, fine.” Except for the one who was limping . . .
“Oh. Okay.”
“How are you, Livvy?” There was something in her voice that made him ask. Her ohs were a little surprised, her questions tentative, and her tone way too soft. “Are you doing okay? The animals are fine.” He crossed his fingers, both to ward off the lie and praying it was true.
Her laugh was self-conscious. “I know, it’s just . . . Well, it’s just that they don’t know you. You’re a stranger to them and this is the first time I’ve ever left them with someone they don’t know.”
“They know me. Scarlet even let me pet her. Rhett even let me pet her.” Well almost. “Everyone’s watered, fed, and bedded down for the night. They’ll still be here when you get back.”
“Oh.”
Yeah, oh. Oh that they were on opposing sides and she had no idea. Oh that he did. Oh that it was eating a hole in his gut.
And while he was at it, he might as well own up to the oh that she hadn’t called to talk to him about what was going on with them, or the oh that he’d wanted her to have called to talk to him about what was going on with them.
And then there was the oh that no matter how much he tried, he just couldn’t get her out of his mind.
Chapter Twenty-three
SO have you given any thought to our conversation last night?” Sher tapped Livvy’s shoulder in the booth at the market the next morning during a break between customers.
“Yes.” It was all she’d been thinking about. He and Kerry had tried to convince her during the drive here that she shouldn’t sell the estate. They’d argued every angle: The kitchen was perfect for her, the barn and the lawn were perfect for the animals, the house could be turned into a fancy B&B—which they’d graciously offered to move into and run for her so she could have the last laugh on her grandmother.
Which would be fine if she wanted a last laugh. She didn’t. She just wanted what was due to her, and then she’d be outta there.
“Livs?”
“I don’t want it, Sher. It’s not my home. It’s not even a home. Home is a leaky roof. Home is a barn three stalls too small and having Reggie sleep in the living room. Home is having you guys next door, and all the others. Richard and Marci and everyone. You’re all my family. You’re my home. Why should I leave?”
“Sweetie, you know we want what’s best for you, but it is a pretty impressive place. There’s so much you could do there.”
“I can do those same things elsewhere with the money the sale will bring. Don’t, Sher.” She put a hand on his lips when he took a deep breath, a sure sign he was about to go off on one of his lectures, er, suggestions. “I know you mean well, but if I have to live in that house day after day, being reminded of how unworthy I am to carry the Martinson name, I’ll be miserable.”
“Don’t let that woman’s idiocy ruin this for you. She owes you this place. She owes you a hell of a lot more, but the estate is a good start. It’s not your fault that the woman wasn’t smart enough to see the real treasure right under her nose, all gift wrapped in the most gorgeous package any grandmother could ever hope to receive. Get mad at that. That she threw away what you two could have had. But never, and I mean, never consider yourself unworthy. She was the unworthy one. To have treated you like she did . . .” Sher shook his head and blinked a couple of times. “It’s disgraceful and she ought to be ashamed.”
She hugged him. “Thank you for saying that. I needed to hear it.”
“That’s why you deserve the house, Livs. Take it. Do with it what you want. You don’t like the décor? Change it. You want to make the salon an indoor/outdoor barn? Your prerogative. You want to change all the bedspreads to camouflage? Be my guest.”
That got a giggle out of her. Sher always could. “I think I’ll pass on the camo.”
“Point being, it’s up to you. Just make sure you’re giving up the estate for the right reasons, not to spite her. Spite never solved anything. It feels good while you’re doing it, but you have to live with the consequences.”
She rearranged the scones, putting the chocolate ones closer to the front of the table. Kids typically liked those the best, and if she could tempt them to stop, the parents usually ended up becoming repeat customers. Bait and hook; she’d always let her food speak for her instead of allocating a portion of her meager budget for advertising. In this business, word of mouth was the best way to pull in new customers. Which would be the only reason she’d even considered what Sher and Kerry had said last night. It had been amazing working in that kitchen.
Maybe because Sean was with you?
“And what about hunky maid guy?”
“Huh?”
“You know, Tall, Dark, and Delicious. You keep the place and you’d have the added bonus of having him around. After what Kerry and I almost walked in on, you can’t say that would be a bad thing.”
The blush blazed up from her toes, covering every part of her. Heating every part of her. “It wasn’t what you think.”
“Sweetie, I may not play for the same team he does, but I know what I saw. The man wants you.”
Except he’d stopped.
She shouldn’t have called him last night. She hadn’t really been worried about the animals. It was just that she’d . . . What? Missed him? Had been thinking about him? Wanted him?
Yes to all three. Which was why she shouldn’t have called him. Shouldn’t have let him in. She knew better than that. Knew better than to get her hopes up. They always got dashed.
“And, BTW, I want deets. With what Orwell was spouting, I’m guessing they’re juicy.”
“There’s nothing to tell, Sher.” Damn talking bird. Whenever she’d dated anyone before, she’d immediately gone to Sher and Kerry’s afterward to dissect the date. Discuss the pros and cons of a guy, if the relationship was worth pursuing, what they’d done, had she had fun, that sort of thing. Girlfriend chat. But this time . . . this time, she didn’t want to dissect it. She didn’t want to put this relationship through Sher’s wringer.
What relationship?
She exhaled and looked around for a customer. Any customer. Just one. One would be fine.
Nope. Nothing. Nada. Zilch.
Figured.
“No one’s going to ride in on his white horse and save you from me, Livs, so spill.”
She exhaled again. “Fine.” She brushed her hair back. “Yes, something was going on when you walked in. I mean, can you blame me? Sean’s hot. Even in a maid outfit.”
“Especially in a maid outfit.” Sher fanned himself.
“Aren’t you married?”
“I’m not dead. And neither are you, thank God. So, what’s the plan?”
“Plan?”
“Yes, sweetie. To reel this guy in. You don’t think it happens by itself, do you? You want him, you have to go after him.”
“Why doesn’t he have to go after me?”
“Livs, please. It’s not like that anymore. We have to make them want us. Make them think they can’t live without us. Pique their interest enough that they keep coming back.”
“Sounds like an awful lot of work.”
Sher shrugged. “But worth it. Look who I ended up with.”
They both watched Kerry heft another container of wine bottles onto the table, muscles flexing nicely beneath his golf shirt. Kerry worked out religiously and it showed.
“You’re a lucky man, Sher.”
“And I know it. So is Sean if he lands you. Are you going to let him?”
“Let him? I’ve practically thrown myself at him, but he wanted to stop.”
She hadn’t meant to mention that. Let her personal shame remain hers. But this was Sher and he cared about her. And frankly, she was just a little annoyed that Sean had stopped.
“Wait. What?”
“Exactly. There we were in the kitchen, in the heat of the moment, and he said we should stop.”
“As in cold turkey? He pulled back and refused to go on?”
She waggled her hand. “Not quite refused, but he kept saying it wasn’t a good idea.”
“Was it a good idea?”
She felt her stupid blush flare across her face. “I thought so.”
Sher flicked the end of her nose and laughed. “Then I’m going to go with a yes to that question. Especially if he said it wasn’t a good one but didn’t stop completely.”
She flushed again, remembering. “Well, he slowed things down. Just stopped, um, kissing me in that way that, you know . . .”
“Yeah, I know.”
They both sighed and looked at Kerry again. He must have felt their stares because h
e looked up and gave them a quick wave and a smile.
She knew that smile. Knew what was behind it as he looked at Sher.
Livvy sighed yet again. What they’d found together was beautiful. Special. She wanted that. That feeling and that secret look and that knowledge that they had someone in their corner. That no matter how bad it got, no matter what Life threw at them, they had each other.
“Okay then.” Sher cleared his throat and turned back to her. “So the question is, how do you get Sean to start again?”
“That is the question.” The other one was whether she was willing to risk her ego again, but Sher couldn’t answer that one for her. Only she could, and right now, she wasn’t so sure of her answer. She ought to just focus on finding the clues and put this idea on the shelf.
Kinda hard to do when you’re living in the same house.
“It shouldn’t be that hard.” Sher raised an eyebrow. “Scratch that. We want it hard.”
She had to laugh.
“Good. There’s the smile you should always be wearing.” He tapped the tip of her nose. “Anyhow, as I was saying, I saw how he looked at you. If he’s not married, gay, or carrying something communicable, there’s no reason for him to stop. Any of those things happening?”
She shook her head. “Not that I know of.”
“Great. So what you need to do is get him all alone, preferably someplace more romantic than a kitchen—oh my God. Olivia Marie Carrolla, do not tell me you got funky on the kitchen counter.”
Livvy tucked her hair behind her ears and looked around again for another customer. “Okay, I won’t.”
“Oh my God, girl, are you nuts? Those countertops are hard. And not in a good way. That’s not where you want your first time with someone to be. A kitchen is the place for quick, raunchy sex with your significant other, wearing only an apron and—”
Thankfully, he stopped. Livvy didn’t want to know that much about her neighbors.
“Uh, yes. Well.” This time, Sher was the one looking around for a client. “What I mean is, you don’t want your first time with him to be a quickie on the counter. You want seclusion, some romance, somewhere where you can’t be interrupted by people showing up at your back door. And for God’s sake, keep Orwell away. I do not need a play-by-play of your lovemaking session.”
What a Woman Wants (A Manley Maids Novel) Page 19