“She’s already slept with him back in high school. This would be for old times’ sake.” Alex sipped her coffee. “You know, Olivia, I was always surprised you did that. Of all of us, you always went by the book. You studied, ate your veggies, and didn’t push your curfew. How on earth did you end up having sex with Brad?”
Easy answer. He was irresistible. “We were young and foolish. I’m not foolish anymore.” She placed a hand over her chest for emphasis. “I know in my heart it would be ridiculous to get involved now.” Olivia felt her heartbeat, strong and rebellious under her hand. It didn’t seem to care that she had a job and a life in New York and that Brad’s life was as entwined around Mirror Lake as ivy climbing bricks.
Meg, probably sensing her confusion, rested a hand on her arm. “I always thought you two would marry.”
Olivia blinked in surprise. Meg often based her own decisions on emotion and intuition. In Meg’s case, that meant she chose guys who were needy and intense, who required being taken care of.
“I don’t think Brad’s ever really gotten over you,” Meg said.
Olivia flicked her hand. “Oh, please.”
“Then how come he’s never found the one either?”
Had she ever felt that magic, that karma since? It was crazy to believe she’d found it the very first time she’d fallen in love with a man. “Brad doesn’t believe in the magic of love. He thinks marriage is all about responsibility and paying bills and screwing up your kids.”
“Logic never works,” Meg said. “It’s all about passion.”
“Meg, I swear. You talk the big talk but you do nothing to get Benjamin Rushford to notice you.”
Meg fidgeted with her spoon. “We live in a town the size of a dime. If he wanted me, he would have noticed me by now.”
“There’s nothing wrong with giving a man a little nudge, honey.” Alex sat back and crossed her arms. “That goes for both of you. Olivia, your time’s flying by. What are you going to do?”
“Be neighborly, be polite. I’ll be back in New York in a week.”
Alex narrowed her eyes, never being one for bullshit. “Last chance for a future with Brad.”
Anxiety churned the strong coffee in Olivia’s stomach. The puzzle pieces were locked in. She had to keep her job. He had to stay here, in the town he loved, where he was successful, popular, and happy. Changing anything would be like moving Sisyphus’s boulder. Impossible.
Meg sighed. “I hate to see you go. You don’t come home enough.”
Olivia patted Meg’s hand. “You’ll just have to come to New York. We’ll have a girls’ weekend.”
Alex frowned. “That’s a little hard when you work seven days a week. So when will you hear back from that boss of yours?”
“Any time now. If I can just scale back a bit, I just might be able to do this. I’ve been Skyping with nanny candidates and have it narrowed down to two. And I was hoping to maybe work Fridays from home.”
Olivia glanced down at the baby. Annabelle had not only kicked the blanket off but also both socks and somehow had one in her mouth. Olivia pulled the sock from her mouth and kissed her foot on the way down to pick up the other stuff.
“Speaking of Brad,” Meg said, pointing out the window. “There he is.”
Olivia jerked her eyes across the street. The trucks had pulled away, exposing the walkways and benches and white gazebo with curlicue trim, now draped with garlands of white flowers.
“They must be setting up for a wedding,” Alex said.
“Nope,” Meg said. “Prom tonight.”
But the square was only a distraction. Brad stood in the front yard of the old red brick Victorian with a woman in a business suit, talking animatedly and pointing up at the roof.
Ancient, buried feelings rushed back as Olivia stared at the regal Queen Anne with its sprawling covered porch and a majestic turret three stories high. She wasn’t sure if it was the surprise, the shock, or the intense memories of their time together in that house, but seeing Brad standing there for the first time in all these years took her breath away.
Brad and the woman walked to the front door. She bent to dial a number into a lockbox and the door opened.
“That’s Jeannie Marshall,” Alex said.
“The realtor,” Olivia said. An old classmate of her father’s, Jeannie had gone out of her way to be kind after Olivia’s mother left, occasionally dropping off meals and always trying to convince her dad to move to a new house, one with a view of the lake where he loved to fish.
“Not just a realtor—the top regional seller,” Meg said. “Specializes in old, charming homes. Maybe Brad is looking to buy it?”
Olivia knew Brad’s house next door to her was temporary, that he could afford one twenty times the size of the tiny bungalow. He could buy any house on earth—so why this one?
As she watched, a woman in a tight black skirt and high heels ran up the walkway and kissed Brad on the cheek. Olivia could tell from the sway of her hips and the flip of her black silky hair just who it was.
“Who’s that other woman?” Meg asked. “Not a realtor, that’s for sure.”
“It’s that reporter from Live at Five,” Alex said, eyes bugging out. “What’s her name again?”
“Erika Peters.” Olivia blinked hard. Sexy Erika. Fun-loving, no-strings-attached Erika. The perfect woman to keep him company while he got away from all the complications that lived next door to him now.
Just what he said he wanted to do. Be carefree.
He guided Erika forward into the house with an arm on her back, the fire-engine-red door closing behind them.
Olivia heard the mental slam in her brain. How could he do it? Almost make love to her but then move so quickly to another woman?
Irritation smoldered in her chest like a newly crushed cigarette. A careful voice warned her she was being unreasonable. That her anger was out of proportion because the emotional and physical exhaustion of the past few weeks made her feel like she was having PMS on steroids.
Olivia turned to her friends, who sat wearing concerned looks. “I need to ask a favor. Could . . . you watch Annabelle for a few minutes?”
Did she just ask that out loud? Oh, God, what was she thinking?
Alex and Meg glanced at each other in that worried way only best friends can, until Alex finally spoke. “Olivia, are you sure you know—”
She stood up. “I’m rational, yes. I know what I’m doing.”
Not really, but she was going to do it anyway.
Meg rushed to her side and gently tugged her sleeve. “Honey, maybe you shouldn’t—”
“Look, a few minutes ago you both were warning me not to pass up my chance with Brad.”
“That was before you were mad as hell,” Alex pointed out.
She wasn’t. Only her limbs quaked and black spots danced in front of her vision, and she ground her jaw so tight it might crack. A primordial need possessed her to get to him and see for herself what the hell was going on over there. Just when she thought she’d discovered the Brad she used to know, he was confirming all the womanizing, footloose, fancy-free stereotypes about him.
Calm down, calm down, her inner voice urged. She sucked in a few ragged breaths.
Olivia’s heart squeezed with the revelation that all her passion had absolutely nothing to do with that house and everything to do with Brad.
Before she could process, her feet were crossing Main Street and marching through the wrought iron gate that surrounded the yard.
CHAPTER 14
Olivia stopped in front of the door, arm suspended in midair over the tarnished brass knocker. She was being foolish and she should leave. But then a vision sprung into her mind of Brad walking out this very door in pajama bottoms, picking up the rolled paper from the lawn, pouring coffee in the kitchen and then making love to Erika in that turret bedroom
.
Olivia clutched the knocker and rapped it hard.
No answer.
She squinted up at the imposing red brick structure, with its soothing trim colors of green and gray. The color scheme wasn’t working for her today. Tiptoeing to the nearest window, ignoring overgrown grass and weeds, she used her hands to shield her eyes. Window after window offered a glimpse of big, beautiful rooms with long-planked wood floors and fancy moldings, all of which loomed dark and empty.
Finally she spied Brad walking through an archway into what looked like a large dining room. Olivia bent low, but it was impossible to peek in due to a vast window well shielded by a waist-high, intricately carved iron railing. The iron looked a bit rusty but heavy and strong. It rattled a little as she slipped her feet cautiously between the rails so she could lean over and catch a glimpse.
An ornate chandelier dangled from the high dining room ceiling. The realtor, Erika, and Brad were gathered in the middle of the room, talking. Brad pointed upward, probably saying something about the intricate plaster ceiling medallion.
Until he saw her. A frown spread over his handsome face as he stared at her through the dusty window.
Busted.
Olivia jerked backwards, her running shoe wedging firmly between the iron posts of the railing. She twisted it to pull free, but her foot wouldn’t budge.
More tugging. And grunting. Desperate, she twisted her foot until at last it pulled free from her shoe. But now the other shoe was stuck. Suddenly, the railing collapsed. The rusty bolts that anchored the railing into the concrete popped and it gave way, collapsing toward the window well. Her cell phone dropped, landing four or five feet down on a bed of rotting leaves.
Olivia pitched forward, ass over teakettle, and all she could do was cling to the railing with all her strength.
Strong arms grabbed hold of her just as she toppled over, pulling her by her yoga pants.
She could feel Brad’s cool hand on her butt as he clutched a handful of the stretchy fabric. By now, he was bending over, too, and she was clutching the rails, struggling to right herself. But she couldn’t. Below her, the ground was still a good four feet away from her head. If she dropped, she’d probably be okay, landing in a bed of decaying leaves sprinkled with a hefty helping of bugs, spiders, and rodents. She shuddered, from that thought or Brad’s grip, she wasn’t sure.
“Maybe we should call the Mirror Lake Rescue Squad,” he said.
That would be the last thing she needed, to have this incident spread through town more rapidly than the plague, and last twice as long. She twisted around to catch a glimpse of Brad’s face. He was biting back a smile. “God, Brad, just pull me up!”
“I’d rather stay here with my hand on your ass. Nice thong, by the way. Red, huh?”
Oh my God. “Don’t call the police. Please. I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“Honey, it’s not my fault you’ve taken to stalking me and got yourself in trouble.” He paused. “I should let them come just to teach you a lesson.”
His tone told her he was kidding. As she clung onto the slanted railing, she remembered what started all this in the first place.
“Is it true?” Olivia blurted. “You’re buying the house?”
“Right now we’re just looking.”
We. That one tiny syllable crumbled Olivia’s hopes faster than week-old coffee cake. Hopes she didn’t even know she possessed. Every stupid retort she and Brad had shared seemed like a luxury now, something said in place of the truth.
Bitterness welled over. “Well, this is a great home for a family. Lots of room for kids to play in that big old yard and leave their bikes and balls scattered all around. That parlor was just made for a big old Christmas tree. And I hear the master bedroom’s positively orgasmic.”
“I should let go right now,” he growled. “What’s gotten into you? Are you angry with me for the other day?”
She squirmed a little under his hand. “No. Well, maybe. Mostly I’m angry at you for right now.”
“For looking at this old house?”
“It deserves a loving family.”
She imagined him frowning. “What makes you think we’re not a loving couple?”
Olivia’s heart plummeted to her throat. “It’s just like you to move in with somebody who wants you for one thing.”
“And what might that be?” He sounded amused.
She twisted her neck just to shoot him a look of pure exasperation. “You know what—sex.”
“At least I know how to have fun. You probably pick your boyfriends based on their reading lists.”
She tried to wiggle out of his grasp but he had her good and hard. “At least I pick men who are intelligent, not just good in bed.”
Brad’s shadow loomed over her, strong and menacing. “Why do you care if I’m with Erika?” Behind him, hundreds of mustard-colored dandelion heads bobbed like the poppies in Oz. “And don’t tell me it’s because we don’t have a carload of kids to terrorize the neighborhood.”
“What you do is your business.” Olivia lifted her chin to a stubborn tilt and sniffed, which was hard to pull off in her current position. “I really don’t care.”
Oh, but she did. She’d lost him once and barely survived. And this time, she’d done it again, and it had nothing to do with her job and her leaving. She’d wasted so much time wrapped up worrying about how things could never work out between them, that Brad had taken matters into his own hands. He’d chosen Erika over her.
Brad tapped a palm to his head in a light-bulb-going-off gesture. “You came hightailing it over here because you didn’t want me to buy this house and move in with another woman. Because you and I made love here. Because you’re jealous.”
She winced at the word. “I am not jealous—no! Of course not.” She turned her head away so he couldn’t see her flaming face or her broken heart. “But just saying, it might be bad karma,” she tossed over her shoulder.
He dropped his voice. His outstretched hand still clamped tightly on her butt. The damp, musty smell of dead leaves loomed close. “I just want to make sure I’ve got this straight. You’re telling me it’s bad luck to move in with another woman to the house we made love in ten years ago. Is that right?”
“It’s . . . disrespectful.” Her cheeks felt like radiant heaters. Oh, God, what had she just done? She might as well bolt for New York right after this, because she’d never face him again.
That was when she heard a laugh. The deep, from the belly, throw-your-head-back-and-laugh kind.
She wanted to kill him. It was a full-out, rumbling laugh that started deep down inside and overtook his whole body. She hadn’t heard him laugh that way since back in high school when the zipper on her prom dress broke and he had to help her safety pin it together. That is, after he’d tucked his hands under the folds of her dress and took his time exploring what was inside.
“Go ahead, whoop it up,” she said, bile in her voice. “I mean, who does that? No one. It’s got to be bad luck.”
“Just to set the record straight,” Brad said, his lips tugging up in the slightest smile, “Erika wanted me to see the house for the possibility of converting it into a bed and breakfast. A business opportunity.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
A business proposition, not a sexual one. She’d acted like a fool. Worse, she’d been outraged enough to stomp over in a fit of jealousy over a woman.
A woman who wasn’t her.
The front door closed and the click-clicking of high heels sounded on the walkway.
“Oh my God, Brad, who is that?” Erika asked. Her voice sounded more shrill than sexy.
“Olivia. Her name is Olivia,” he said darkly as he yanked hard on her pants, pulling her closer until he could grasp her waist in his big hands and tug her quickly up and onto safe ground.
He held her steady and secure as she fought off the dizziness from being upside down for so long.
Jeannie rounded the corner. “Olivia Marks? What in the world . . .”
“Hi, Jeannie.” Olivia gave the realtor a little wave.
“This woman fell into the window well,” Erika said, then turned her gaze on Olivia. “Were you like, spying on us?”
“Of course not,” Olivia said. “I’m an editor. I’m researching Victorian ironwork and I was taking a photo.” Okay, so it was the only thing she could come up with. That was plausible, right?
Brad shot her an incredulous look. Maybe not so plausible, but she was desperate.
“So you stood on it and it fell in?” Erika was aghast, her tone measuring high on the snark-o-meter.
“Just so long as you’re all right, dear,” Jeannie said, patting her arm.
“I’m fine,” Olivia managed. “I’ll see if my dad can come fix this.”
“I’ve only got a few minutes before I have to get back to work,” Erika said to Brad. “Mind if I finish walking through myself?”
Brad nodded. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Just make sure the door locks behind you when you leave,” Jeannie said.
Erika gave Jeannie a nod, pecked Brad on the cheek, and left, her hips swaying provocatively in her tight black skirt.
“Speaking of your father,” Jeannie said, “I’ve been trying to get him to take a look at this cute little place on the other side of the lake.” The words barely registered in the midst of all Olivia’s shame and humiliation. Next to her, Brad was scowling and practically quivering with anger. Or laughter. Probably both. And he still hadn’t let go of her waist, which disconcerted her even more. “Maybe you can convince him to come take a peek,” Jeannie continued. “It’s got a fishing pier and a screened porch to die for.”
“I’ll be sure to mention it,” Olivia said.
This Thing Called Love (A Mirror Lake Novel) Page 14