He grit his teeth through the smashing wave of painful denial. “Anyhow, the sorry end to the Tess story—I loved her, I loved playing, but I loved the job more. I needed the job more. I hurt her. She hurt me. We both lost. I learned to keep things shallow and easy and be upfront about the job being first. No one got hurt that way. It worked for me.” He shrugged.
She softened into him. “That’s why you pushed me away at Mohave.”
“Yeah. Sort of.” He hadn’t kept things shallow, this wasn’t easy, and he didn’t have the excuse of the job.
The lovers in faded black and white met in the doorway, their happy ending found and their future embraced.
“But I’m not pushing you away again.” He tightened his arms around her and pressed a kiss to her forehead. He had a long way to go before he could trust in a happy ending, but this time, for Livie, he’d do his damnedest to make this work.
Returning the hug, she smiled and kissed him softly. “We’ll figure it out together.”
****
Olivia drowsed in Dave’s arms, half-watching the television, until it was time to head downstairs to work. Dave left first to change across the hall.
After a quick shower, she took care with her makeup, trying to minimize the lack of sleep and beard-chafed skin. She was exhilarated, exhausted, and scared to death. She’d lost her mind, and she’d never felt better.
Mid-afternoon, when business was dead quiet, and Jean and Bettie had the few customers handled, Dave and she snuck away for a short nap, collapsing together after kisses into sleep on her couch until the alarm Dave had set on his phone woke them and they returned downstairs to work.
By the time they walked Uncle Jake home after closing, she could scarcely keep her eyes open. At her door, she wrapped her arms around Dave, and yawned against his sturdy chest. “I want you so much. Come sleep with me.”
He chuckled wearily, and turned the key in the lock.
Brushing her teeth and stripping off her clothes finished her. She crawled under the covers, drowsily watching Dave undress and join her in bed. With her head pillowed on his chest, she slipped happily into sleep.
Waking in Dave’s arms, still hungry for each other after making love through the night between naps, was a delightful way to begin a day. She remained wrapped in glowing bliss as Dave took over her kitchen and whipped up scrambled eggs, sausage, and toast. Not even Uncle Jake’s raised brow and Bettie’s teasing at their late arrival for work, the busy Sunday lunchtime rush, or Old Roy’s nonstop bitter complaints could shadow her joy today.
Then happy hour arrived. Dave was working the bar—and flirting with the pair of cute twenty-somethings as if he hadn’t been awake most of the night making love with Olivia. He was simply being his charming self, but when he tucked the napkin the little blonde had pressed into his hand into his pocket, Olivia choked, threw down the towel, and escaped into the office.
She was simply overtired and overreacting. There had to be work in here. Oh, yes, Uncle Jake had been on the computer again and hills of papers covered their shared desk. Filing was the perfect mindless task.
The door clicked.
Bettie leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing’s the matter.”
“You’re jealous of those bleached-blonde touristas jiggling their boobs at the bar?” Bettie grinned. “I thought there’s nothing going on between you and Dave. Dave’s just here for a bit, so you’ve said, and then he’s moving on. So why are you upset?”
“I’m not.”
“Liar, liar, pants on fire.”
“Bettie, please.”
“You know he’s not the least interested in those girls. It’s all show, like Jean flirting with the men. Makes the customer happy. If you’d stuck around, you’d have seen Dave toss that napkin the moment those girls left the bar. He’s not R.J. You’re the only woman he wants.”
“I’m fine. I’m totally fine. I have work to do.” Livie scooped up the first towering stack of papers. “As you can see, Uncle Jake’s been killing trees again, and I need to find the desk under here.”
“Hah! You and I are going to sit down over a drink and straighten this mess you’re in.”
“Fine. Later.” Olivia dealt out the first paper as Bettie shut the door between them.
Chewing over her problems, real and imaginary, Livie sorted the stack into piles: articles, receipts, invoices, emails, pictures, miscellaneous.
Bettie’s right. You’re jealous, and for no fault of Dave’s. Since the day Dave arrived, you’ve known where he is and what he’s doing: working here in the bar or upstairs playing his guitar or sleeping.
True, all true. She needed to apologize to Bettie. She was a foolish, foolish mess. She sighed and grabbed the next handful. Coupon, ad, receipt, comic, invoice—
An email from Daddy to Uncle Jake containing R.J’s name and dated last October stopped her cold.
Unable to help herself she read on. Uncle Jake had hired a private investigator. There had been women she’d never known about. Daddy might have been in denial, but once Uncle Jake forced him to face facts, he went after R.J., no holds barred. Uncle Jake had warned Daddy to talk to Olivia, but Daddy had ordered Uncle Jake to say nothing. Uncle Jake agreed under protest.
A few minutes of easy digging on the computer, and she had all the details shared between Daddy and Uncle Jake. In a nutshell, Daddy, who’d been adamantly against her divorce, had made the divorce happen. He’d paid off R.J. and blackmailed him into settling the divorce and giving Olivia everything she’d wanted without a fight. Uncle Jake had been involved up to his meddling eyeballs.
Nausea rolled. No wonder R.J. had caved so abruptly.
She needed to talk to Uncle Jake. No—How could she? He’d be upset to find he’d accidentally leaked the secret. The one she needed to confront was Daddy. Even if he believed he was helping her, how dare he interfere with her life? Payoff and threaten R.J.? He had no right. Call Mama? No, Mama always sided with Daddy.
Olivia slapped a palm to her face. No wonder R.J. imagined he could play the wounded party—not that she had the least ounce of sympathy for the faithless cheating bastard—But…What if R.J. had found some shred of remorse? What if there had been some small chance—
Stop! Are you nuts?
Shaking with anger, she closed everything. Yes, yes, she was being irrational. She should be happy they’d smoothed her way to speedy freedom. Daddy and Uncle Jake loved her. A leopard had a better shot at changing its spots than R.J. becoming faithful, but she was an adult and they’d arranged her life without her permission!
She scooped the papers into a big random pile, and ran out the door, only to crash into Uncle Jake.
“Sorry! Uh, got to, uh, go.” Tears cracked her voice. Desperate to hide, she bolted for the bathroom. Locking herself in a stall, she gulped deep breaths, the crazy frustration unbearable. Dry sobs crumpled her to the seat.
“Olivia? What’s wrong, baby girl? Why are you crying?”
Oh, heavens, Uncle Jake had followed her into the ladies’ room?
“Sorry, Uncle Jake. I—I just—I’m fine. It’s nothing.”
“You don’t cry over nothing. I haven’t lived this long not to know that when a woman says she’s fine, something’s wrong.”
You and Daddy interfered in my life! Her brain spun, answerless.
“Is it Dave?”
“No! Really. It’s nothing. I—I, uh, must be PMSing.” She clapped a hand to her mouth. What a thing to lie about to her uncle.
Her embarrassment must have made her blurted lie ring true, because his wheezy relieved breath warmed into a chuckle. “Oh, your Aunt Amy had those days. She always wanted me to make her an Irish coffee, even if it was hot as blazes out. Seems a slow day here today, so you go on upstairs and rest. Try your Aunt’s Irish coffee maybe.”
“Maybe I will. Thanks, Uncle Jake.”
“So I noticed you kids were late today. I take it you’ve been tal
king?”
Livie flushed, picturing him beyond the door with a raised eyebrow. “Yes, some. Talking. We’re talking.”
“Keep at it. Does a body good to clear the air.”
Chapter Eighteen
Livie reappeared at closing, but Dave didn’t buy the I’m-just-tired excuse, despite the good act she put on for Jake. Something was wrong.
Jake looked like he wanted answers as well, but as they said goodnight at his door, he just wrapped Livie in his arms. “Get some rest, baby girl. We’ve got a busy Halloween ahead, and I want you two over here at noon for an early supper before we open. Okay?”
While Livie let Dave take her hand on their walk to the apartments, she was distant and shrugged off his questions on what was bothering her. Even as she wrapped her arms around him tight in bed, Dave struggled with the sensation she was pulling away.
Unfortunately, sleep didn’t improve matters. Livie remained edgy and distracted, and when time came to head over to Jake’s, she sent him on ahead, claiming she needed to finish some calls.
“She’s working too much.” Jake sighed as he unlocked his front door. “She needs to learn to enjoy having some downtime. Learn it’s okay to let loose and have some fun.”
He shot Dave a pointed stare. “Maybe needs someone to make sure she does.”
Maybe that was true, but whatever was upsetting Livie was deeper than putting in too many hours at the bar.
Jake busied himself at the small wet bar and poured two drinks. “Make yourself at home. If you want to play the piano, go ahead.” He nodded at the glossy console piano clustered with framed photos. “It needs tuning.”
Dave opened the keyboard lid and ran light scales over the keys. Yeah, out of tune, but bearable.
Jake handed a glass to Dave and stroked his fingers over the photo of a soft-faced woman with curly brown hair and joyful eyes. “My wife, Amy. We had nineteen years together. Best damned years of my life.”
Next to her photo was a young man in Navy uniform. A youthful Jake? No, the young man had Amy’s hair and Jake’s eyes, and the sorrow in Jake’s face as he touched the frame was a bad sign.
“My son, Victor. More proof there’s only now. Three deployments overseas. Came home safe and sound each time. Then he was driving to his new stateside post, a tractor trailer blew a tire, and Victor’s car wrapped around a tree. Dead on impact.” He traced the young man’s face. “He was a good man, and I was proud of him.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.” Jake cleared his throat, coughed, and lightly straightened another photo of two boys. “Victor and Junior—Royce.” He brushed the next frame. “Here’s my brother Paul, me, and our Mama and Pop.” Jake and his older brother as teens were close in looks, but Jake was the burlier, taking his dad’s build, while Paul resembled their mother.
Next, Jake touched a school photo of Livie, her bright smile missing two teeth. “Olivia when she was six. Cute as a button.” He adjusted a photo of Paul holding an infant Livie, Paul’s proud smile radiating a father’s love. “She’s my brother’s child, but I love her like she’s my own little girl too.”
Jake paused for a sip at his drink and adjusted several frames. “Go ahead. Play something. I bet Amy’s smiling to hear her old piano again. She loved to play. I never learned. After Amy passed, I considered moving the piano over to the bar, or selling it, but I couldn’t let go. After closing, I’ll sit here, have a drink and tell her about my day. It’s good.”
“What did she like to play?”
“Oh, all sorts, but Christmas music was her favorite. She’d play Christmas music in July, and oh, how she loved love songs.” He raised his glass. “Here’s to love and love songs.” He wheezed a hearty laugh, and sipped at his drink.
Dave nodded. “Cheers.” He sipped and set the glass on the coaster.
He let his hands wander the keys, falling into “Walking in a Winter Wonderland.” An old memory rose from when he’d been very young of Mom misty-eyed and snuggling with Dad when that song played on the radio. His chest tightened, and he had to force his hands to relax and keep playing.
“That’s one of them. You’re good.”
“Thanks. We had a piano when I was a kid. I loved that old thing.”
“While you’re here you should use the piano. I’ll have Olivia give you a spare key. Amy’d approve.” Jake was smiling, but he abruptly trudged over to his recliner and heavily lowered himself into the seat.
Dave stopped playing. “Jake?”
“Play. I’m fine. Just feeling my age in my bones today. It’s hell getting older, but better than the alternative.” He waved his glass. “Drink your drink. Have fun. We’ll start cooking when Livie arrives.”
Concerned, he played on, keeping an eye on Jake.
When he finished the song, Jake clapped. “Great. What else do you know?”
“What do you like?”
“Oh, let’s see. Clapton, the Grateful Dead, Hootie and the Blowfish. Sinatra. Elton John. Faith Hill. As long as I like it, I’ll listen to it. Amy used to shake her head at me.”
Dave smiled, and he segued into Clapton’s “Bad Love” and let himself sing as he played.
The words struck hard. He wanted pride in something again. More, he wanted Livie to be proud of him. He finished with a flourish and, at a burst of clapping, turned to find Livie standing with Jake. His heart leapt with crazy need.
There’s only now.
At a loss for words of his own to reach her, and using the excuse of Jake’s musical tastes, he played Faith Hill’s “Breathe.” Maybe after closing tonight he’d get Livie to share what was troubling her.
Cooking with Jake helped Livie relax some. Maybe Jake was right, he was just overthinking things, and he needed simply to help Livie relax.
They were halfway through the delicious roast chicken meal when Jake paused and pinned Livie with a sharp look. “Forgot to tell you, baby girl. I was talking with Paul this morning and your mama wants to know about Thanksgiving. Do I tell her the three of us are driving up that Wednesday?”
Dave inhaled his mouthful of iced tea.
Livie flashed a sideways panicked glance at Dave. “Thanksgiving? I’m not sure…”
Dave coughed, juggling his own oh, shit moment. Meet her parents? He cleared his throat. “We’ll talk. How long to get back on that?”
“Oh, I’d say by Friday. Louise likes things organized.”
Livie served up the cannoli and coffee in the living room, and Jake put on a DVD of Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein. Livie sank back into whatever was eating at her. Not long into the movie, Jake nodded off in his recliner, and he was still snoring when time came to open the bar.
Dave glanced at Livie. “Let him sleep?” he whispered. Jake looked comfortable, and he hated to wake him.
She nodded. “We can cover for him. He could use the rest.”
They left a note and quietly locked up.
As they walked along the driveway, Livie’s voice crept out flat and cool, “About Thanksgiving. You’re not obliged to go—Mama makes the dinner this massive black-tie social affair. I’m sure it’s not your sort of—”
Dave blocked her, hands jammed in his pockets against touching her. She didn’t want her parents to meet him? Fine. They’d liked R.J. What they’d think of him…Hell.
“Like I said, we’ll talk. Later. Tomorrow. Right now, let’s get into costume, focus on the bar and the kitchen, and get through the Halloween crazies. Okay?”
“Fine.”
Livie was a knockout in her pirate wench costume, and the corset did fascinating things for her breasts, but her festive smile and attitude rang flat and forced.
Jake showed up at six thirty, apologetic for his long nap, but Teo and Dwayne had the kitchen in hand, so he joined Dave behind the bar. Maguire cornering Livie for about fifteen minutes of intense conversation didn’t help Dave’s mood nor did the hug she gave Maguire. Logic and body language said the two were just friends, but, hell, yes,
he was jealous.
After closing and walking Jake home, Dave pulled Livie into his arms at her door, fed up with her distance and tension. “Talk to me. What’s up?”
“I’m just exhausted, and I need a shower.” She shivered and pried herself away. “I just need sleep. See you in the morning.” She shut the door between them, the click of the lock twisting his baffled concern into sick frustration.
****
Olivia rolled over onto cool sheets and squinted against the late morning sunlight. Waking up alone in her bed without Dave’s strong body wrapped around hers was an unsettling way to greet the day. She wasn’t even clear on why she was alone, but her turmoil had left yesterday a disjointed blur.
Mulling ways to confront Uncle Jake and Dad while she readied for the day produced zero decisions. Maybe as she put away the Halloween decorations, she’d decide how to proceed. She stepped out her apartment door, only to crash into Dave. Startled, she recoiled against the jamb.
He squared off, his hands planted on his hips, and eyes cool and wary. “I thought we wanted to be together, but if this isn’t working for you, Livie, no sense in my staying. I can head back to California today.”
Panic sank icy claws through her confusion. “What? No!”
“Then what’s the problem? Why are you shutting me out?”
He’d thought that? She’d been so frazzled and exhausted. “It’s not you. Not at all. I’m sorry. Please, I want you to stay.”
His face remained stern, but the tension left his body and he opened his arms.
Olivia slid into his hug. His strong arms and sturdy body were the steady shelter she craved and for a moment let her forget the misery and betrayal.
“You need to talk to me, Livie. I can’t fix it if I don’t know what’s the problem.”
She owed him an explanation. “Sorry. I was so tired yesterday. I’m worried about Uncle Jake. I keep forgetting how old he’s getting. I just, I was—”
Love Burns Page 27