Fortune's Little Heartbreaker

by Cindy Kirk

Though he hadn’t yet said the words, he realized somewhere along the way, he’d fallen in love with her. Here was a woman he could trust, a woman who cared for him as much as he did for her.

  He’d learned a lot from his failed relationship with Diane. Oliver accepted part of the blame for the demise of his first marriage. Back then he’d showed his love the only way he knew how—by providing the material things she so desperately craved.

  They’d had the house in the country, the one in London. He’d given her expensive jewelry and household help to make her life easier. But he realized now those were only things. He’d held back his heart. Or perhaps it was simply that his heart had been waiting for someone else.

  Though he’d never say that aloud—it was much too Lord Byron-ish—he believed it. While it was still difficult for him to verbalize emotions, Shannon had taught him that actions had to be coupled with words.

  That’s what Oliver planned to do tonight. His fingers closed around the small jeweler’s box in his pocket. When he’d been in Lubbock yesterday, he’d seen the perfect ring for Shannon in a small jewelry store’s window.

  A large marquis-cut diamond solitaire, comparable to anything the Harry Winston jewelry company would carry, had caught his eye.

  Oliver had never been a foolish man, or an impulsive one. He and Diane had dated for several years and he’d spent a lot of time considering whether he should propose. Only now did he realize that if he had to put so much thought into it—at one point he’d even drafted a list of the pros and cons—she hadn’t been the one for him.

  He’d settled, plain and simple. He’d been past thirty, he wanted a home and a family, and on paper they appeared well suited. But not once had Diane made his heart beat faster simply by walking into a room. Even worse, their house had never felt like a home.

  With Shannon, Oliver could fully relax and be himself. No pretense, no posturing. She loved and accepted him as he was and, because he had her unqualified support, he wanted to be a better man.

  She’s never said she loves you.

  The doubt surfaced and though he tried to brush it away, it kept returning to buzz around in his head, like a troublesome fly.

  Oliver recognized this hesitation—knew the fear arose from those early years when his father had slapped down any talk or show of emotion.

  It was no wonder his mother had left the man. Soon enough for Brodie not to have been tainted by his father’s cold harshness, but not soon enough for Oliver.

  But he’d gotten past that, Oliver told himself. Telling Ollie he loved him now came easier. And, once he said the words to Shannon, he vowed never to stop saying them.

  In his mind, the only thing standing between them now was her affection for Horseback Hollow. But he felt confident of his ability to convince her she could find happiness in London with him and Ollie.

  Tomorrow, he would confess his love. They would marry and meld their lives together.

  For now, he had a business to run.

  Oliver picked up his mobile phone and got back to work.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “I’m so happy you stopped by this afternoon.” Shannon opened the oven door, releasing the delicious aroma of cinnamon into the kitchen. “Otherwise I’d have to eat this coffee cake all by myself.”

  “You’ve got Oliver,” Rachel reminded her, sipping her coffee. “What time will he be up?”

  Shannon lifted the pan to a cooling rack, then took off the oven mitts and tossed them to the counter. She glanced at the clock, saw it was just past four. “He didn’t go to bed until almost two, so I don’t expect him up until seven. Perhaps even later.”

  She saw no reason to mention Ollie had been taking a nap when his father had concluded his business dealings at noon. She and Oliver had taken advantage of the opportunity. Though Oliver had been in bed—with her—there had been no sleeping involved.

  Rachel studied Shannon over the rim of her cup. “I thought you were supposed to get off at five.”

  Shannon dropped into the chair opposite Rachel. “Oliver would never get any sleep if I left so early.”

  Her friend clucked her tongue, reminding Shannon of her mother. “Some things never change.”

  The coffee cup Shannon had been raising to her lips returned to the table with a clatter. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means you let people run all over you.”

  For a second, Shannon was stunned. She wasn’t sure how to respond. Could she have misheard? Transposed some of her mother’s words into Rachel’s mouth? “What did you say?”

  “I meant no disrespect. I care about you.” Rachel reached across the table and took Shannon’s hands. Before speaking, she slanted a sideways glance where Ollie sat playing with his blocks, Barnaby supervising. “Think about it. Jerry comes on to you. Sure, you tell him you want none of it. But not forcefully enough to make him understand you mean business. He persists. Instead of filing charges or even threatening to, you ran away.”

  Heat flooded Shannon’s face and she pulled her hands back. She rose and moved to the counter. Though the coffee cake was still too warm, she cut it anyway. It gave her something to do with her hands while her thoughts tumbled like clothes in an out-of-control dryer at the local Laundromat.

  Though what had occurred at her previous job had happened pretty much the way Rachel described it, she had tried to speak with Jerry.

  “I was forceful,” Shannon protested. “I told him so many different ways to bug off, it wasn’t even funny. But he didn’t hear me. He didn’t want to hear what I had to say, because I didn’t matter.”

  “Now you’re doing the same thing with Oliver.” Rachel leaned forward, resting her forearms on the table. “You set up parameters—like you’re off at five every day—but then you don’t hold him to them. He walks all over you, and worse yet, you don’t seem to notice or care.”

  Ollie let out a shriek when his blocks came crashing down.

  “Ollie, shush, your daddy is sleeping,” Shannon said automatically, then refocused on Rachel. “What you said about Oliver, it’s not like that between us.”

  “Of course it is. You just don’t want to see it.”

  “You’re wrong.” A tightness filled Shannon’s chest, making it difficult to breathe. “I want to help him out. I like taking care of Ollie.”

  Rachel’s gaze searched her face. “You’re in love with the Brit.”

  Shannon started to deny it, then decided why bother. Rachel knew her too well and would simply see right through her denial. She sighed. “I am.”

  Rachel inclined her head, her gaze speculative. “Does he love you, too?”

  Ah, that was the question.

  She thought about what Amelia had said, that if you wanted to make something work, you’d do it. She’d give up her life in Horseback Hollow for Oliver...all he had to do was ask.

  But what is he willing to give up for you? To do for you?

  Shannon frowned. Maybe she was a pushover. She shoved the troubling thought aside.

  “C’mon, Shannon,” Rachel pressed. “Be honest, with me and with yourself.”

  “It feels as if he cares,” Shannon said slowly. “When he looks at me, there’s this warmth in his eyes. When he touches me, there’s heat but something more, something deeper.”

  “Heat. Warmth. You did it, babe.” There was admiration in Rachel’s voice. “When we made that bet, I thought for sure I’d win, but sounds like you heated up the iceberg. I owe you a drink.”

  Oliver paused in the hallway. He’d been jolted awake by the sound of Ollie crying out. But by the time his brain had cleared and he’d reached the living room, his son was happily playing with his bricks.

  He’d intended to go back to bed until he heard Rachel’s words. She and Shannon had a bet. A bet that involved h
im.

  He clenched his stomach. How had he missed the signs? It wasn’t as if this was a first. He’d been targeted before by women who wanted him for his stock portfolio and social position.

  But Shannon hadn’t been after his money. She’d done it simply for sport. Just to see if she could. And to his shame, she’d succeeded.

  His father had been right, after all. A man who trusts was a fool.

  Well, he wouldn’t make that mistake again.

  Though he returned to his bedroom, Oliver didn’t sleep. Instead of the quiet candlelit dinner followed by a proposal tonight, once Rachel left, he would send Shannon on her way.

  No one made a fool out of Oliver Fortune Hayes.

  Not even the woman he’d been foolish enough to love.

  * * *

  Rachel left shortly after five and Shannon had just fed Ollie when Oliver walked into the kitchen.

  “Hey, I thought you wouldn’t be up for another two hours.” She crossed the room to him, lifting her face for the expected kiss.

  Instead, he brushed past her. Opening the kitchen cupboard, he took out the bottle of whiskey and poured himself a shot. He drank the amber liquid as if it was water and he was dying of thirst.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked tentatively.

  “Has Ollie been fed?”

  “Just finished. He ate like a little piggy, so he’s probably going to need changing soon.” She shut her mouth before she could ramble even more.

  Oliver was clearly upset over something, and all she could talk about was his son’s diapers?

  “What’s wrong?” she asked quietly.

  Though she longed to wrap her arms around him and hold him close, she stayed where she stood. It was as if he had this invisible force field around him warning of danger should one get too close.

  “It’s not working.” He poured another shot, downed the contents of the glass again in a single gulp.

  A cold chill slithered down her spine. “What isn’t?”

  “This.” He gestured wildly, the empty glass in his hands. “You. Me. You taking care of Ollie.”

  “Wait a minute.” Breathe, she told herself. Stay calm and breathe. “Things are good between us. Ollie is happy and I thought—” her voice trailed off slightly before she reined it back in “—things were good between you and me, too.”

  He turned and met her gaze, his eyes looking more gray than blue, and cold as steel. “I know about the bet.”

  “Bet?” She pulled her brows together. “What bet?”

  “The one you made with Rachel.” His fingers tightened around the glass until his knuckles turned white. “How you were going to thaw the iceberg, as you ladies put it. Well, congratulations. You may have won the bet but you lost the job. You’re fired.”

  Shannon stared at him, trying to process what he was saying. “That thing between Rachel and me was just a joke. When you first came into town, Rachel said—”

  “I’m not interested in your excuses.” His voice sliced like a knife through the air.

  “I want you out of here in—” he glanced at his watch “—ten minutes.”

  For a second, Shannon thought she might faint. Or burst into tears. Instead she simply stood there, her body frozen in place.

  This was all a simple misunderstanding, she wanted to say. But what would be the point? She’d tried to explain but he wouldn’t listen.

  Oliver didn’t want to hear what she had to say. Because she didn’t matter.

  That was the one thing she hadn’t been able to make Rachel understand.

  That when you don’t matter to someone, you might as well talk to the wind.

  * * *

  Fully aware that her unexpected appearance at the Triple S ranch would bring a ton of questions she preferred not to answer, instead of going home Shannon drove to Vicker’s Corners. She rented a room at a quaint old Victorian B and B that had caught her eye when she and Rachel were shopping.

  Last week, she’d hoped that before Oliver left town, they could carve out some time and spend the night here.

  Well, she was here. But she was alone.

  Shannon put her suitcase on the floor and flopped back on the bed, still dry-eyed. The tears were there, all balled up inside her. For now she was keeping them under tight control, afraid if she started crying, she might never stop.

  Coming to a parting of ways was for the best, she told herself. Oliver would soon be returning to London anyway. By then she’d likely have her new job with the Fortune Foundation.

  She tried to tell herself she’d been prepared for the fact that Oliver and Ollie would eventually leave, but she knew that was a lie. The truth was, she’d been secretly hoping Oliver would stay or ask her to go with him and Ollie to London.

  Boy, had she been off the mark. He hadn’t even cared enough to listen to her. No way was that love. Not the kind of love she wanted, anyway.

  It was for the best, she told herself for the zillionth time.

  When a stray tear slipped down her cheek, she hurriedly brushed it aside. She always felt like crying when she was tired. Perhaps, if she closed her eyes for just a second...

  Shannon woke to sunlight streaming through the lace curtains. Groggy, she turned and saw that it was morning. The vintage alarm clock on the nightstand read 8:00 a.m.

  The proprietress, a perky woman named Bea, had gone into great detail when Shannon had checked in about the lovely breakfast served daily between six and ten.

  The last thing Shannon wanted to do was make small talk with strangers. She felt hollow and empty inside. But she refused to sit in the room all day and mope. She would visit her favorite Vicker’s Corners café, the one that served the best granola pancakes in the entire state.

  Even if the mere thought of eating made her stomach churn, she could sit outside in the sunshine and enjoy the fresh air. She would order a cup of their special coffee—a dark roast and chicory blend with steamed milk.

  Feeling better now that she had a plan, Shannon headed for the shower. Minutes later, feeling decidedly more human, she pulled her hair back from her face with a couple of clips, grabbed a pair of jeans and a cotton shirt in heartbreak red—totally appropriate for today—and left the B and B via the back door.

  The air held a crisp edge and walking briskly calmed her. It took her less than five minutes to reach the café. Though the café’s outdoor seating was surprisingly full for a weekday, Shannon snagged a small wrought-iron table for two. She ordered pancakes—just in case her appetite came back—and coffee. She was scrolling through Facebook pages when her phone rang.

  For a second her heart leaped. But it wasn’t Oliver’s name on the readout—not that she wanted to speak with him anyway—it was Rachel’s. Better, she decided, and although they weren’t on a FaceTime video call, she smiled. She’d read somewhere that even if you didn’t mean it, a smile could be heard in your voice. “Good morning, Rach.”

  “Are you busy?”

  “Not at all.” Shannon smiled her thanks to the waiter who placed a steaming cup of coffee in front of her. “What’s up?”

  A long moment of silence filled the air.

  “You haven’t heard.”

  Shannon’s heart seized. She set down the coffee cup with carefully controlled movements. “Heard what?”

  Another few heartbeats. “I thought for sure they’d have called you.”

  Was it her parents? Oliver? Or, oh dear God no...Ollie? Her heart stopped, then began to gallop. The toddler was so quick, she didn’t even know if Oliver realized how fast. If you didn’t watch him every second, he could easily be hurt.

  “Who?” Shannon’s voice rose despite her best efforts to control it. “Tell me.”

  “Christopher Fortune.”

  Shannon’s breath came out
in a whoosh and she slumped back in her seat, relief leaving her weak. “Thank God.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I said, that’s great.” But the moment the words left her lips, Shannon wondered why Christopher Fortune would be calling Rachel. She didn’t have to wait long for the answer.

  “I got the job.” Rachel spoke quickly, as if she wanted to get it all out before she was interrupted. “In fact I’m at the Foundation office now. They have a bunch of employment forms for me to fill out.”

  “That’s...wonderful. Fabulous news.” Shannon did her best to force some enthusiasm into her voice, even as the realization hit. They’d hired Rachel, a woman with no marketing experience, instead of her. “I’m—I’m happy for you. Congratulations.”

  “You’re probably wondering why they hired me and not you.” Rachel’s voice held a nervous edge.

  Shannon paused. “Uh, maybe just a little.”

  The waiter delivered her pancakes and Shannon offered him a brief smile of thanks as her mind raced.

  This didn’t make sense. Sure, Rachel was pretty and smart, but so was she. And Shannon had three years of experience in the field. Christopher had been impressed by that fact, Shannon recalled.

  “Well, I found out something that I think you need to know.”

  “I don’t know, Rachel.” Shannon expelled a heavy sigh. Did she really want to know that Christopher thought she’d blown the interview? Because what other reason could there be for her not getting the position? “What’s done is done.”

  Rachel gave a disgusted snort. “How are you ever going to stand up for yourself when you insist on keeping your head in a hole?”

  Shannon dumped some syrup on the pancakes. “Okay, tell me.”

  “The temp who’s been working here is real chatty. She told me I almost didn’t get the job because I didn’t have the experience.”

  The piece of pancake that had been halfway to Shannon’s mouth froze in midair. Her heart began to thud.

  “She told me the other person they were considering got a bad reference from her previous employer,” Rachel continued. “Apparently that swayed the decision in my direction.”