Assuming she’d be bored in less than a week, he didn’t argue. Abby wasn’t exactly spoiled, but she was accustomed to a pampered existence. She’d never fit into the rough atmosphere at the sawmill. It would be like planting a cultivated tea rose among hardy geraniums.
“Going once!”
Olivia gripped his hand. “Drew, I have the farm. Why can’t we use it as collateral?”
“No.” He shook his head. “It’s too big a gamble. There’s no guarantee I can make this work.”
“Going twice.”
Leaning closer, Olivia set her chin. “I thought we were in this together. Partners.”
His hand crushed hers. “You could lose Stone’s End.”
She paled at that, then firmed her resolve. “Only if the sawmill fails.”
His eyes flashed a warning. “Don’t you think this is carrying the act too far?”
Olivia suddenly knew it wasn’t an act. Investing in the sawmill was one way of showing Drew she cared without putting it into actual words or risking a rejection. Emotional commitment wasn’t part of their bargain. Drew was trying to recover a family legacy; so was she. They’d joined forces. Beyond that, there was nothing to keep them together.
She met his gaze. “There’s nothing to discuss, really. We agreed to be partners. Besides, I believe in you. I know you’ll succeed and make it work.”
“You don’t know any such thing,” he protested.
“Have you any idea what you stand to lose?”
Yes, she did.
She could lose Drew.
The admission shocked her.
Without the sawmill, Drew had no reason to stay. She wasn’t enough to sway his decision. Without giving herself time to think about that, she raised her hand, upping the last bid. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
She kept bidding until the one competitor dropped out. When it was over, she was co-owner of the sawmill. Olivia stood, flushed with triumph. “We did it!”
Abby wore a bemused smile when she handed Olivia the glass bluebird. “I got it for you. Think of it as a wedding present.”
“Thank you.” Aware of its meaning, Olivia held the piece in the palm of her hand. The bluebird was exquisitely detailed. It was life-size, with wings outstretched and ready to fly.
Olivia looked up and met Drew’s dark eyes.
He smiled wryly. “Would you like to see what you bought?”
Olivia felt like that small bird, frightened yet eager to face the next challenge.
The Pierce Sawmill overlooked Main Street.
Drew stopped and unlocked the gates before driving through.
Spread out over several acres, the lumberyard was the size of several football fields. When at maximum use, it was usually littered with timber in varying stages of processing, from freshly harvested to processed hardwood. Trucks and heavy equipment made up a good chunk of the Pierce inventory. Now they lay idle. Layers of rust had built up on some of the once-valuable pieces left exposed to the harsh elements.
There were several buildings—all closed up.
Drew parked in front of a weathered gray building. For a long moment, he stared at it, the enormity of the responsibility he’d taken on beginning to sink in. He felt inadequate, plagued by the memory of past failures.
For some reason he couldn’t begin to fathom, Olivia had gambled everything on him. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.
He glanced at Olivia. “This is it.”
She gave him a determined smile. “Let’s take a look.”
Olivia didn’t want to miss anything.
Drew took her on a grand tour of the sawmill—well, maybe not so grand. Everywhere she looked, the old post-and-beam building showed signs of abandonment. Cobwebs clung to the ceilings, dust layered the floors and the chill November air blew in through several broken windows.
Olivia hid her growing dismay as she followed Drew from one area to the other. She’d invested in this?
No, she’d invested in Drew.
She’d done some impulsive things in her life, but this ranked among the top three or four. Marrying Drew was first.
Since meeting him, she’d done everything, short of hog-tying him, to keep him in her life. And like a fool, she hadn’t stopped to figure out why—until she’d put Stone’s End up as collateral.
More than anything, more than her legacy, Olivia wanted Drew. What should have been so simple was complicated beyond belief because she’d refused to see the obvious. Drew had come along at an opportune time, thus confusing the issue. He’d fit into her plans because he was the right man for her.
She’d used him.
Was it too late to undo the harm?
She desperately wanted a chance to make her marriage work.
They’d wound up in the main office. Olivia looked around absently. “Some paint would do wonders for this room.”
“The place could use more than a little paint.”
She laughed. “All right, a lot of paint.”
When he didn’t respond readily, she leaned against the window frame. “What’s wrong?”
He turned to look at her. The light from the window behind him cast a shadow across his face. “My father occupied this office, then Evan. Those are big shoes to fill.”
“I know you can do this.”
He looked around the room. “Have you taken a good look? You just put up your precious farm for this place. It needs a hell of a lot more than a coat of fresh paint.”
She folded her arms across her waist. “I thought it was what you wanted.”
“I did want it. I was prepared to spend every last cent I had.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “But it was mine to lose! I didn’t want your money.”
His to lose.
Not hers.
Chapter Twelve
Olivia wanted them to build a life together. At first, she might have settled for the fringes, but now she wanted more.
Perhaps she should have put that in writing, she thought ruefully—which did nothing to solve the current problem. Drew didn’t want her help.
Shocked by how much his rejection hurt, Olivia said, “But I wanted to help finance the sawmill. What’s wrong with that?”
“Don’t you get it?” He laughed at her confusion.
“I’m not worth it! What if I mess this up?”
So that was it.
“You won’t,” she insisted. “I know how much this means to you. You’ll make it work. I just know you will.”
“Haven’t you been listening? Everyone’s tried to warn you. You could lose everything!”
Now she understood.
“But what if you succeed?” Olivia didn’t know what else to say. Following her instincts, she walked toward him and watched him stiffen. “What if everyone else is wrong?”
“Hell!” With a hoarse laugh, he ran his hand through his hair.
“And what does it matter? We’d both be right back where we started? And we’d survive.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned close. “I believe you can do it. It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
She was willing to take a risk on him.
With a short laugh, Drew clasped her tightly. “I must be going nuts, because you’re beginning to make sense.”
She smiled. “Don’t sound so surprised.”
“Okay, where do we start?”
To his amusement, she looked around. “Hmm, now about this room. I think pale-green, perhaps a celery shade, don’t you agree? No, a soft buttery cream with all that dark wood.”
Her enthusiasm was contagious.
With the beginnings of a smile, he said, “You’re not going to let me wallow in self-pity, are you.”
“Is that what you want?”
“No. Besides, there’s no time to waste.”
He looked around. “I have just one request.”
“What’s that?”
“No pastels. Remember this is a lumber company.”
She smiled. “Then how
about forest-green? I can put up some framed outdoor scenes to lighten it up.”
She was awfully good at lightening things up.
She had years and years of practice.
Olivia found a rag and washed the filth from the glass on the front window overlooking Main Street. Gradually the letters, spelling out Pierce Sawmill, started to sparkle. She gave a final rub, then stood back to admire her handiwork.
Surprisingly, she felt a pride of ownership. The sawmill meant so much to Drew—she wanted to be part of it, part of his world. She hoped he’d let her be involved on some level.
Over the next few days, Drew placed ads in the Help Wanted section of several area papers. A couple of former sawmill operators turned up. Things began to take shape.
Getting the sawmill operating forced Drew to work long hours. To Olivia’s discomfort, she missed him.
Armed with a paintbrush and a bucket of forest-green paint, Olivia arrived at the sawmill one day, prepared to redecorate Drew’s office from top to bottom.
And just in case that wasn’t enough to ensure her welcome, she brought an offering of food—fresh-baked muffins and a thermos of hot coffee.
“That looks wonderful,” Abby said, taking a short break before returning to her self-assigned task of getting the antiquated computer up and running. She’d trimmed her nails and put her hair up in a clasp, but it didn’t diminish her glossy appeal. “Did you actually make these?” She indicated the basket of banana-nut muffins.
“The recipe’s simple,” Olivia assured her with a warm smile. “I can give you a copy.”
“Mmm.” Abby laughed, admitting, “I’m not really into cooking. But these are delicious.”
“Drew tells me you’re planning to stay around for a while. I imagine Seth is pleased about that.”
Abby’s smile faded. “I’m not doing it for Seth. Does that sound selfish?”
“I don’t understand. Why should it?”
Abby hesitated before confiding, “I don’t want to give him any false hopes. I like Seth—a lot. But I’m not sure if I’m in love with him.”
Although married, Olivia felt curiously inept when it came to matters of the heart. Nevertheless, she tried to sound reassuring and wiser than she felt. “Give yourself plenty of time. If it happens, it will feel right.”
“Like you and Drew?” Abby returned with obvious skepticism.
“As strange as it may sound, the answer is yes. From the first moment we met, it felt right. I never had to explain myself to him. He just seemed to know.” With the words, Olivia acknowledged what she’d known instinctively for some time.
“Does he feel the same?” Abby asked.
“I hope so.” Olivia blushed, aware she’d revealed too much and unable to take back the admission. “Is he busy?”
“He’s been closed up in his office since I got here.”
Olivia grabbed a muffin, then filled a coffee mug. She walked into his office without knocking. Apparently annoyed at the interruption, Drew’s brow wrinkled into a frown when he looked up from the pile of paperwork on his desk.
“Hi,” she said cautiously. “How about a break?”
His irritated expression melted into a crooked smile. He tossed his pen aside, then leaned back in his chair. “Come to beard the lion in his den?”
She set the mug on his desk, then kissed him lightly—it was intended to be light. But at first contact, he groaned.
Taking her completely off guard, he pulled her down and kissed her long and thoroughly. His hand crept up from her waist, cupping her breast. He leaned farther back in his desk chair, rocking her against him. Where it all might have led Olivia had no idea, because the phone rang just when things were getting interesting.
Breathing raggedly, Drew dragged his mouth away, freeing her with obvious reluctance.
She stood up, straightening her blouse.
“Hello!” he barked into the phone.
Olivia felt extremely sorry for whoever was on the other end of the connection and pleased by Drew’s response to her arrival. He obviously didn’t mind her interrupting him at work.
Perhaps she hadn’t needed the muffins, after all.
Drew finished his phone call.
By now Olivia had opened the can of forest-green paint she’d chosen for his office. The fumes blended with the odor of coffee and banana-nut muffins.
Drew rose and walked over to open a window. He breathed in, welcoming the fresh gust of cold air. Olivia could raise his temperature faster than any woman he’d ever known.
Moments later, when he went back to his desk, he watched her climb the stepladder, dripping paint in her glorious wake. Drew was aware of her—every living breathing inch—from the top of her golden head to the bottom of her dainty feet, plus every luscious curve in between.
“Come back here,” he said, a wicked gleam in his eye.
Smiling to soften her refusal, she said, “We’ll never get anything done.”
“So what?”
She laughed. “Then you’ll blame me. I came here to help, not to distract you from your work.”
He grinned. “I’m already distracted. Now what?”
He stood abruptly, then came around the desk. She moved up another rung of the ladder, and he grabbed for her ankle.
Waving him off with her paintbrush, she laughed. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Watch me.” He toppled her into his arms. With a trembling laugh, she landed against his chest.
Caught between them, the paintbrush slid to the floor.
Her eyes were misty gray, filled with warmth and humor. Drew captured her mouth, silencing her laughing objections with a kiss that picked up where they’d left off only moments ago.
And the moments spun out while they explored the magic between them. It was still so new, so full of discovery—this tingling awareness, this need to be close—closer.
Reminded that this was neither the time nor the place to make love to his wife, Drew groaned when his sister’s raised voice came from the outer office.
“I’m sorry, you can’t go in there,” Abby said firmly. “Drew is busy at the moment. Do you have an appointment?”
“I think he’ll see me,” came the amused response. It was a man clearly unimpressed with office protocol.
“And you are?”
“Jack Slade.”
“I’m afraid your name isn’t listed,” Abby said.
“If you’ll wait here a minute, I’ll check.”
The humor disappeared. “Why don’t I save us both some trouble and announce myself?”
“Mr. Pierce is a busy man. I’m not sure he has time to see anyone today.”
Drew had heard enough. He needed to rescue his sister before she ran up against Jack’s Irish temper. He released Olivia with reluctance.
Everything in their relationship felt so rushed, so crowded. For the first time in his life, he wanted to go slowly; he wanted to know what was on a woman’s mind—besides him.
Olivia was maddeningly elusive, which he admitted could be part of the attraction. But it was much more than that.
She hid her insecurities behind a smile and a casual approach to life. Her childhood had been less than ideal. She bore the inner scars like a badge of honor, but none were allowed to show, and nothing got in her way when she wanted something. Beneath the warm generous exterior beat a passionate heart and a steely determination to succeed no matter what life threw at her.
She was a survivor.
So was he.
A few moments later, Drew found Abby, flushed and irritated, standing toe-to-toe with a tall, dark-haired man. To say that Jack Slade was a friend would have been exaggerating.
Jack didn’t have friends. He was tough, with a hard, impenetrable shell. But he’d saved Drew’s hide in prison when Drew came up against several inmates bent on bringing him down a peg or two.
“It’s good to see you,” Drew greeted the younger man, aware that he owed Jack a favor. He knew little about Jack’s
past, but he’d gleaned a few facts from the bits and pieces that had slipped out. Jack had grown up in a tough neighborhood and learned how to handle himself. Like a dog that’s been kicked one too many times, he kept anyone from getting too close.
“I got your letter.” Jack said, his blue eyes cold and deliberate. If anyone had ever loved Jack Slade, it certainly didn’t show. “I could use a job.”
Knowing Jack’s circumstances, Drew sympathized. “What sort of work can you do?”
“Show me a motor and I can fix it. I’ve been working on a highway crew, driving heavy equipment. But that’s done until next spring. I can drive a truck, and I’m willing to learn whatever will pay the bills.”
Drew smiled. “I’m sure we can fix you up with something. Have you got a place to stay?”
Jack shrugged. “Not yet. I’ll find something.”
“There’s a cottage on the edge of the lumberyard. It’s empty if you want it.”
“Sounds good. When do I start?”
“How about right now? I need all the help I can get. There’s a ton of equipment needing repairs, not to mention this building. But first, I’d like you to meet my wife, and partner,” Drew tagged on. “This is Olivia.”
Her smile warm, Olivia approached Jack, her hand outstretched. “Hi, Jack. Do you paint?”
He frowned. “As in…” His glance went from the paint down her front to a matching panorama on Drew.
Olivia flushed. “As in painting walls.”
With a slow smile, Jack accepted her hand. “I guess I can try.”
Drew inserted, “And this is my sister, Abby.”
Abby didn’t budge. “How do you do?”
“Abby?” Jack said just as coolly, “Short for Abigail?”
She bristled. “I prefer Abby.”
Having scored a point, Jack simply grinned.
Drew decided to intervene. “The cottage is empty. You can move right in.”
Jack nodded. “I’ll get my stuff and see you later.”
After Jack left, Abby spun around and expressed her disapproval. “How could you possibly want that man around?”
“Jack helped me when I needed it most. I’m simply returning the favor.”
“So you met him in prison. He’s a criminal—he’s obviously trouble!”
The Wedding Bargain Page 14