Christ, look at his abs.
He must be a swimmer.
It was right at that moment that Olivia realized if she was staring at his front that meant he must be staring at—
His yelp ripped through the air, tearing her gaze away from the stranger’s delicious abs to his startlingly handsome face. Her eyes took in his chiseled cheekbones and alarmed green eyes before he tore off his headphones and began to say something. But Olivia couldn’t hear him over her own string of apologetic blabbering.
She stammered toward him, tripping over her apologies. But his eyes kept growing wider as he backed away from her, like he thought she was going to pounce on him.
Shit! Had he caught her gawking at him?
She probably looked like a stalker. No wonder his beautiful emerald eyes seemed like they were going to pop out of his perfect head.
“I’m so sorry!” Olivia repeated. “I didn’t know anyone was here. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“You!” he exclaimed, still looking at her like he’d seen a ghost. “You’re—”
But before he could finish his sentence there was a loud clatter and a string of expletives erupted from the stranger’s sexy mouth. He’d backed into the stove and burned his hand on the nearest pan, sending it catapulting across the kitchen.
Olivia ran to help, nearly colliding with the shirtless man when she slipped on the overturned contents of the frying pan. He reached out to catch her, hissing when his hand made contact.
Olivia took one look at his hand and cringed. “Shit! You burnt your hand.” A large red welt was already forming across his palm. “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”
“It’s all right,” he said hitting her with a stunning smile for her benefit. “They’re only my career,” he added with mild sarcasm as he examined the damage to his hands.
“You’re a musician?” Olivia asked.
“Not quite.”
Olivia stared into his piercing green eyes and found it hard to breathe.
“I’m Alex, by the way,” he said awkwardly holding out his uninjured hand.
“Olivia,” she said finally able to find her voice. “Here,” she said turning on the cold water at the sink. “Run your hand under the water while I get you something to help the burn.”
Chapter 10
Alex
Alex held his hand under the icy water and watched in awe as the petite brunette scurried around the kitchen. Brunette wasn’t even the right word. Olivia’s hair was more the color of burnished mahogany, polished to a high-gloss sheen, with hints of espresso woven through the deeper layers. Her eyes were the color of the Aegean sea, and light danced off of them in a mesmerizing way every time she smiled.
He couldn’t believe she was actually here. It was like fate refused to let him ignore her. She’d haunted him since he’d arrived at Carter Ridge—first in the family photograph and now here in the flesh. But there was no denying who she was—Olivia Crain. The same vibrant blue that surrounded her in the black and white photograph now exploded around her like fireworks as she moved about the kitchen opening and closing cabinets. Alex closed his eyes against the blinding hue momentarily. It was more vivid than anything he had ever experienced.
The intensity of color he’d seen when he first noticed her in the kitchen had startled him so much that he’d backed into the stove. He looked down at the tender flesh of his hand under the faucet. It was already an angry red blister.
Clumsy fool.
What the hell was he going to do if it kept him from painting?
Olivia was back at his side with her arms full. She set a knife, spoon, cutting board and bowl on the counter. Then she retreated to the pantry, returning with a large canning jar and a lemon. Alex watched as she spooned a waxy white lump from the canning jar into the bowl and then sliced the lemon, squeezing the juice into the bowl. She picked out the seeds and stirred it with the spoon until it became a transparent liquid.
“Scoot,” she said gently pressing her hip into him so she could share the sink. She rinsed her hands and dried them on a nearby dishtowel. She turned the faucet off and gently took Alex’s hand in hers, drying it with painstaking care.
Alex blinked repeatedly trying to see Olivia through her aura of blue. Up close, she was exquisite. Her features had sharpened since her childhood photograph. Her blue eyes sparkled against her pale skin and he couldn’t help but stare as she bit her full ruby lips. He had a sudden urge to taste them and run his hands through the gorgeous hair that fell in tangles across her face. As though she’d read his mind, Olivia released Alex’s hand and grabbed a rubber band from her wrist, efficiently tying her unruly hair in a messy bun atop her head.
With her hair out of her face, she was even more beautiful. Alex was grateful she was taking charge, because he found himself unable to complete a thought with her touching him. She took hold of his hand again and blew on it to ensure it was dry. The action sent shivers to his core.
“I’m sorry, does that hurt?” Olivia asked.
“Not really,” he lied.
“It just has to be dry before I apply the oil.”
“What is that stuff?” Alex asked tearing his eyes from Olivia to look at the concoction in the white mixing bowl.
“Coconut oil and lemon juice.”
“And this helps with burns?” he asked skeptically.
“Yes. It’s like magic. You’ll see.” She smiled as she dabbed a tiny bit onto his palm and began to rub it in slow circles. “My grandmother swears by it. It’s full of vitamin E and fatty acids and helps fight off infection and . . . Sorry, I’m rambling. I ramble when I’m nervous,” Olivia said, meeting Alex’s gaze with a quick smile.
“You don’t seem nervous to me,” he said. “I’m grateful for the help.”
Olivia smiled. “I feel awful about your hand. I didn’t mean to freak you out.”
“It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault. I just wasn’t expecting any visitors at two in the morning.”
“Me either,” Olivia murmured dipping her hand back into the bowl to get more oil. Alex wanted to sigh out loud when she began gently massaging it over his hand again. “These aren’t musician hands,” she observed.
“How do you know?”
“They’re too soft.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Well, if you must know, I’m an artist. Or at least I’m trying to be.”
Olivia stopped moving her hands. “And what’s an artist doing in my grandparents’ kitchen at two in the morning?”
He smirked. “Making breakfast.”
Olivia put her hands on her hips. “For real, are you supposed to be in here? I won’t tell on you or anything, but for future reference the main house is off limits to guests.”
“Really? Cassidy never mentioned that.”
Olivia arched her perfect dark eyebrows. “You’re on a first name basis with my grandmother?”
“Yes. I met her at a charity event and we hit it off. I made arrangements with her to work here for the next few weeks.”
Olivia shook her head and Alex tried to read the mixture of amusement and confusion on her face. “I’m sorry. Were you planning on using the space? Because I’d be happy to move if you need the recording studio.”
“No. I won’t be staying. I just stopped by to pick something up.”
“Oh,” Alex replied unable to hide his disappointment. “I was hoping you’d be here for a bit.”
“Why?”
“It would be nice to have some company. I’ve already been here for a week with no one to talk to. Plus I’d love to pick your brain about the history of this place. I mean if these walls could talk, right?”
“Right . . .”
Alex immediately sensed the change in Olivia’s friendly attitude.
“Well, if you’ll excuse me. It’s been a long day.” With that she turned on her heels and marched out of the kitchen. He watched her pick up her bag and disapp
ear down the hallway.
What had he said?
Alex reviewed their conversation in his head and nothing came to mind. But it was evident that something caused Olivia’s sudden icy mood.
One thing was for sure, the house suddenly seemed empty, even though it had gained another guest.
Chapter 11
Olivia
Olivia trudged up the stairs to the attic grumbling under her breath. She wished it was a decent hour so she could call her grandmother and ask her exactly what she’d been thinking inviting some fame-mongering stranger into the family house. This was exactly why Grand had the cottages built and all the reservations were supposed to go through the rental agency. Gran was too soft. She always fell for every struggling musician’s sob story and wanted to open her home to them. Her heart was too big. She never suspected that people just wanted to use her fame and fortune to climb higher in the music industry.
Olivia was still muttering indignantly under her breath when she reached the attic landing. She shouldered the old door and it groaned open. Olivia slung her overnight bag onto the floor with a thud and looked around the tiny room, letting nostalgia pull at her heart. Everything was exactly the same as the last time she’d been in the room. Her cello stand sat empty in the corner next to the chipping blue desk that still housed Gran’s typewriter. The chalky black dresser rested next to the wire-framed twin bed covered in her grandmother’s quilt. The white lace curtains still draped the dormer windows and the bright Persian rug that Olivia and Gran had picked out together still covered the bare wooden floorboards.
The room was like a time capsule. Olivia’s mind flashed back to the last time she’d been in the attic bedroom. She’d been seventeen and it had been the day her mother died. Olivia hadn’t been able to return to Carter Ridge since. Even after five years, the pain was still so fresh. It seemed like only yesterday Olivia had been sitting on this bed holding an envelope that would change her life forever.
Olivia reached for her bag and pulled out the pink envelope Gran had given her in the hospital a few hours ago. Déjà vu churned in her stomach as she stared at it. She couldn’t help but wonder if whatever was in this envelope would altar her life, just like the one from Julliard had five years ago. Olivia glanced at the frame hanging on the wall where Gran had immortalized her Juilliard acceptance letter. Senseless rage flared in Olivia when she saw it. It was always this way, and that was why Olivia had torn up the letter and thrown it away.
Of course Gran had thought she’d known better—Gran always thought she knew better. She had pulled the acceptance letter from the trash and pieced it back together. But Olivia’s life couldn’t be pieced back together so easily. And to her grandmother’s dismay, Olivia had surprised and disappointed everyone by turning down the opportunity to attend one of the best music schools in the country.
Olivia frowned as she stared at the framed letter through misty eyes. Her dreams of Juilliard had died with her mother. She knew it was completely irrational to connect the school she’d dreamt of attending with her mother’s death. But it was just how it was. It was impossible for Olivia not to pair them even though she knew Juilliard didn’t turn her mother into a junkie. And Juilliard didn’t force her mother to cheat on her father. Nor did Juilliard tell her mother to overdose on the day Olivia received her acceptance letter.
Juilliard was merely an innocent bystander in all of this. But no matter how Olivia rationalized it, she still couldn’t separate the school from her mother’s death. Every time she heard the word Juilliard, she was instantly transported back to her old apartment in New York, standing over her mother’s lifeless body, clutching her acceptance letter in her shaking hands while she screamed for help that never came.
Olivia closed her eyes and repeated the mantra her therapist developed. “You are not responsible for the choices others make. You are only responsible for you.”
After a few deep breaths Olivia felt her steadiness returning. The room may have looked the same, but things were different now. Olivia wasn’t a child anymore. She was in charge of her life now—however aimless it was.
Olivia tore open Gran’s pink envelope and pulled out the letter, letting her eyes flit over her grandmother’s flawless penmanship.
To my darling, Olivia,
If you are reading this letter then that means you are in your old room at the lake house, my old room. It has always been a special place for me. And not just because it brought your grandfather into my life, but because I watched you come alive there and grow into the beautiful young woman I know you to be.
Olivia, I wish I had more time with you. I wish I could show you how special you are and make you believe in yourself again, but alas that is not the case. So my hand has been forced. I’ve sent you here to find something that’s been lost. That something is you, my dear. I fear you have lost your way and I cannot let go of this world until I know you’ve found your way back to the happiness you so deserve. I believe the path to healing lies in your music.
I want you to spend some time at the lake house. I want you to play your cello again. Play through the pain, my angel. Only then can you find love again. And don’t worry about me. I’ll wait for as long as it takes for you to find yourself again.
Gran
A quiet madness spread through Olivia. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. This was so Gran. She wanted to scream! She wasn’t a little girl that could be sent to her room until she found the error of her ways. Her grandmother needed to stop meddling in her life.
“I could kill her!” Olivia muttered, but instantly regretted her words.
Tears sprang to her eyes, realizing this was precisely the thing she would miss most about her grandmother.
When Gran was gone, who would be left to worry about Olivia?
Certainly not her father. He hadn’t acted like a parent a day in his life. Without Gran to keep Olivia involved with her family she worried she would be forgotten and drift away, until she was completely alone. And that thought broke Olivia’s heart.
She owed it to Gran and to herself to try to find a way back to the girl she could have been. The girl she should have been. She wanted to feel whole again. She wanted to find love and get married and have children. She’d always craved that. But the crippling heartache she felt after losing her mother and being betrayed by the only guy she’d ever given her heart to left Olivia terrified to open herself up to such pain again.
Olivia stood and straightened her spine. Enough was enough. Her grandmother was right—she was always right. It was time for Olivia to take her life back.
“You are responsible for you,” Olivia said resolutely.
She marched down the stairs to the garage and retrieved her cello. Leaving it exposed to the cold wasn’t good for it. And after years unused, it would probably require a massive overhaul.
Olivia was about to drag the cello to the attic when her stomach rumbled loudly. She realized she hadn’t eaten anything since lunch. She’d been intending to go upstairs and get to work on tuning the cello right away, but maybe some food and a good night sleep would be the best thing for her.
She left her cello in the hall and went to the kitchen in search of a snack. To her surprise Alex was still there stacking a rather large mess of pots and pans on the kitchen island with one hand.
His face lit up when he saw her. “Hey. You’re still awake.”
“It appears so.” She hadn’t meant her voice to come out so snarky so she switched her approach. “Do you need help with the dishes?” Olivia asked pointing to the mess next to the giant plate heaped with bacon, eggs, potatoes and onions.
“Oh, no, I’ve got it. I’ll finish cleaning up right after I eat.”
Olivia’s mouth watered as the aroma of food wafted toward her. “I’ll make you a deal. If you share some of your breakfast with me I’ll do all the dishes.”
“Done!” Alex said brightly.
Olivia grabbed another plate and silverware and set them at the ta
ble. She found two glasses and filled them with orange juice before joining Alex at the table. “I’ll pay you back for the food,” she added.
“Oh, don’t worry about it. I don’t mind sharing.”
Olivia shoved a forkful of greasy breakfast food into her mouth and sighed. It was divine! “No really, I insist. I’m going into town tomorrow so I can pick up whatever you need or just get some cash to pay you back.”
“You’re staying?” he asked, his voice laced with surprise.
“Yeah. It turns out what I’m looking for might not be so easy to find.”
“Maybe I can help.”
Olivia smiled. “Thanks, but I think I’ve gotta do this on my own.”
Alex gave her an incorrigible grin. “Okay. Well, I’m here if you change your mind.”
Chapter 12
Alex
Alex woke to the sound of sighs. No . . . not sighs . . . music? He sat up and concentrated on the sound. It was sad, but in a beautiful way. He closed his eyes and let the melody wash over him. The music touched his heart in the way few songs ever did. When music and the person playing it, connected deeply, they shared a piece of themselves. And to Alex, that was a sign of pure genius.
With his eyes still closed, Alex watched the colorful stream of light dance in his mind. It took his breath away. He stood up, stuffed his long legs into a pair of jeans and pulled on a white v-neck tee, ready to search out the source of the music. He yawned and scrubbed the sleep from his face as he entered the hall. It was barely morning and he hadn’t gotten much sleep last night.
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