The curtains at the front of the house were drawn shut—no surprise there—but the barn door was wide open and she noticed the back of Isaac’s truck poking out through the opening.
Thoughts of him flooded her mind.
Isaac’s eyes. Isaac’s hands. Isaac’s rich, earthy scent. They washed around her, and over her, his presence felt in every cell in her entire body.
Olivia closed her eyes and rubbed her fingers down her face.
‘I’m too old for this nonsense,’ she thought to herself. ‘You have a crush on the boy next door. How cliché.’
She flipped onto her back, staring up at the flaking ceiling. Her world had changed so much in the past few weeks, it felt skewed, lopsided. Her mind was preoccupied with so many new things. It was as if her old life had melded somewhere along the way with her new life, while she wasn’t watching. Her old heart found new reasons to beat, her old worries still always present, but muted by the promise of things to come.
Olivia pushed the ridiculous thought from her mind. What was she thinking? Setting herself up for failure was one thing, but setting herself up for heartbreak was something else altogether. There was nothing to come. At least not where Isaac Stone was concerned.
They may have developed some sort of friendship over the last few weeks, though that too teetered on a very thin line, depending on Isaac’s mood and whether or not he deemed Olivia to be crossing one of his ever-present boundaries.
The sound echoed around her bedroom again, a loud whirring drone that broke the silence and Olivia sat up slowly. She yawned and stretched out her back, working out some of the ugly cricks that had developed there since she’d been sleeping on Mrs. Ackerman’s lumpy old mattress.
Another thing to add to the list.
After a few minutes, she slipped out of bed and made her way across the hall toward the bathroom where the floor was icy cold beneath her bare feet.
After a long shower, she dressed in a pair of jeans, a skivvy, and a thick cardigan that wrapped all the way around her, and she tied her hair back into a ponytail.
She desperately needed coffee, but that could wait.
What she needed more was Isaac.
She’d found herself thinking about him often over the past week—from the moment her eyes opened in the morning, until she eventually surrendered to a restless sleep of a night.
Her heart was searching out a man she knew so little about, but she wanted to know more. She wanted to know everything. She tried not to think about the crazy infatuation, but she caught herself out too many times thinking about him, that she simply couldn’t ignore it any longer.
Olivia made sure she smelt good, with fresh breath and a dab of perfume on her wrists, and then she packed up a thermos of hot cocoa and a dozen jam-drop cookies, and she soon found herself headed across the pasture toward Isaac’s barn.
Her phone beeped in her pocket as she walked through the snow, and Olivia fished it out, groaning when she looked at the screen.
$200. Take it or leave it.
A deep frown tugged at her mouth, souring her mood the instant she registered who it was. Who it had to be. She’d deleted Kyle’s number from her contact list years ago; apparently she hadn’t been afforded the same luxury.
She tapped out a quick reply—NOT INTERESTED—all in capitals, just so he got the message loud and clear. You couldn’t be too subtle when it came to Kyle Mason.
And then she switched her phone off, shoved it back into her pocket and smiled when Isaac looked up from beneath the hood of his truck, the sound of her bright yellow gumboots crunching on the gravel driveway catching his attention.
He didn’t look as pleased to see her as she’d hoped he might. But he didn’t look displeased either and he stepped out toward her, wiping his hands on a grease-stained rag that he had shoved in the back pocket of his overalls.
“You’re here,” he said.
It wasn’t much. Just a few simple words from a man who didn’t often have words to offer.
And Olivia’s heart felt like it had just stalled in her chest. It thumped a dull, heavy beat and then kick-started again when Isaac wiped his hair away from his face.
“Yes. I’m here,” she shrugged. “Is that alright?”
Isaac watched Olivia walk closer, just a few small steps and his instincts told him to move away, a flighty horse being approached by a fast hand. But he didn’t. He took a slow breath and he stood his ground. He’d been keeping to himself on purpose the past few days, not sure where to begin or where to end.
His feelings were all over the place and he was so damn confused he could hardly sleep and he’d barely eaten.
The smell of sweet, sugary cookies filled the barn and his stomach rumbled. “It’s fine,” he said, eyeing off the bag eagerly. “Are they for me?”
Olivia laughed. “They’re for us. I figured with all the banging and crashing going on so early in the morning that maybe you could use a break.” She stretched up onto her toes and looked under the hood. “What exactly are you doing in here, anyway?”
“I’m sorry if I woke you.” Isaac wasn’t entirely sure that was true—a part of him had been coming up with reasons to head back over to Eleanor’s house, but he couldn’t come up with anything that didn’t leave him looking completely stupid. “The engine needed some work. And I had to change the back tire. Must have picked up a nail at the store. I swapped it for the spare.”
“Why didn’t you just get Leroy to take a look?”
Isaac busied himself, putting his tools away and dropping the hood. “I don’t need a mechanic to fix my truck. I can do it myself.”
Olivia placed the thermos, mugs, and the bag of cookies down on the end of the cluttered workbench. “Did your grandfather teach you?” She poured out two steaming cups of cocoa, and then ripped the bag down the middle, wiping her finger over some jam that had stuck to the inside.
“My grandfather taught me everything I know.”
Olivia nodded, licked her finger and looked carefully around the barn. The walls were made of rough wood. Hooks hung from the walls and some held horse tack, and there were feed sacks leaning up against the side door, dry oats and bales of bound hay—the same as the ones she’d seen in her own barn. A horse blanket was draped over a large electric drop-saw and there were a stack of old tractor tires piled up in the far corner.
“I didn’t know you kept horses?”
Isaac took a sip of his cocoa. “I don’t. Not anymore.” He grabbed a cookie without asking and took a big bite, then pointed at an over-turned milk crate for Olivia to take a seat. “We had a few horses when I was younger. A couple of cows too for that matter, but Pa got rid of them all before he died. Too much bother, he reckoned. Though I’ve been thinking lately, I wouldn’t mind getting another horse. They can read people, ya know? Emotions and stuff. I could use a hand with that sometimes.”
Isaac wanted to swallow his own tongue from saying so much. He’d more than used up his daily ration of words lately, and now he was simply exceeding his limits. He looked over at Olivia—who was watching him intently, nibbling on the edge of her own cookie—and she nodded, barely perceptible, as if she wanted him to say more but was sure she would spook him if she pushed too hard or moved too quickly.
Isaac pulled a crate from the corner and took a seat opposite Olivia. “Your mother is sick, isn’t she?” he asked, quietly. His eyes moved quickly away. “I’m sorry. I’m invading your privacy. I shouldn’t have—”
“Yeah. Cancer. But she’s over the worst of it now. She’s doing much better, and the doctors say she’s got a really good chance of living a long, healthy life.”
“That must have been hard for you?”
“It was hard for my mom.”
“That’s not what I asked. What about you?”
“What about me?”
“How did you cope? You must have been scared?”
Olivia wasn’t sure what Isaac wanted to hear. He’d lost his mother when he was just a
little kid. Unimaginable. But losing your mother at any age would be tough. Olivia hadn’t even let her mind go there while her mother was sick. And she didn’t want to go there now. What she wanted to do was change the subject completely and maybe talk about something a little brighter.
“Paris. Sorrento. Australia. Venice.”
Isaac looked briefly stunned, confused. Both. He blinked and let his head tip to one side. “What?”
Olivia couldn’t help the small laugh that slipped through her lips. She swallowed a mouthful of cocoa and then wrapped her hands around the mug to thaw out her cold fingers. “Those are my top four places in the world I want to visit someday.”
“What’s that got to do with your mother?”
“Nothing. That’s the point.”
“You’re weird. Anyone ever told you that?”
Olivia giggled and stood, taking a few steps, and she stopped so close to Isaac that she could see the dark rings of his midnight eyes in the early morning light.
A dusty sheet to her left suddenly caught her attention when it lifted and fell in the gentle breeze that moved through the barn door. She strained to see in the dim light, the space so crowded with lengths of timber and tools, making the shadows look almost sinister under the early light of day.
Isaac smiled and stood when he noticed what had caught her gaze, and he walked toward the sheet, lifting it back with both hands.
The full, rich scent of fresh timber saturated the entire space and Olivia’s mouth fell open. “Oh, my goodness! Isaac it’s… it’s beautiful. Did you make that?”
“Yes.”
“You made a love seat?”
Isaac scratched at his beard. “No.”
“I think you did.”
“Is that what it’s called?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, then I guess I made a love seat.”
Olivia felt overwhelmed and emotional and she couldn’t take her eyes off the big gnarled knot in the very center of the wood where the different grains met in the middle of the seat, and she wondered if Isaac realized just how beautiful the flaw was, or if he only saw it the same way he saw himself.
“You should put it on your front porch.”
“I have a chair on my front porch.”
“You have one chair on the front porch. A love seat is made for two people. Get it. Two people. It’s kinda more fun that way!”
“Why would I do that when I live by myself?”
Olivia smiled sweetly, too sweetly perhaps. “Change is a good thing. Maybe you should try it sometime.”
Isaac hesitated, looking even more unsure of himself than normal. “I need to get back to work,” he suddenly said through the thin straw that was now his throat. “Thanks for dropping by. Can I keep the cookies?”
Olivia nodded and Isaac turned his back on her. He cracked the hood again, burying his face in the darkness of the engine and his swiftly changing mood.
But Olivia didn’t care for one second that he’d just dismissed her or sent her packing with his clipped tone.
She knew she’d somehow just made a dent in his armor, touched two live wires together.
And as she walked back across the yard, trudging through the thick snow like she was climbing stairs, she wore a small, happy smile on her face.
She’d poked the bear, and now she just needed him to bite back.
That evening, Isaac was rinsing his dinner plate under the tap in the kitchen sink when he heard a loud scream that made him feel like he wanted to scream as well.
His head jerked up, he dropped the plate and before he knew what he was doing, he was out the door and running.
He hurdled over Mrs. Ackerman’s front picket fence like some kind of athlete and was pounding on Olivia’s front door before he realized he hadn’t even bothered to put on his boots.
“Olivia?” he shouted.
“In the kitchen. It’s not locked.”
Isaac flew through the door and rushed into the kitchen, panic thick in his voice. “What happened?”
“I sliced my finger on a peeling knife. It really hurts.”
“What were you doing with a peeling knife?” he asked in an angry tone that didn’t entirely seem justified under the circumstances.
“Peeling an apple,” Olivia shot back, matching his irritation as she held her bleeding thumb over the sink. “I was going to make an apple pie. Big plans, remember? Eating pie on the couch with a good book and a glass of merlot. Hard core, I know!”
“Here, let me see.” Isaac hurried toward Olivia, and he inspected the wound on the fleshy part of her thumb. He pressed his finger over the cut, and blood immediately swelled again so he didn’t get a great look, but it was deep and it definitely needed attention. “Where’s your first aid kit?” He grabbed a dishtowel from the rack and wrapped it around Olivia’s bleeding finger, making sure it was tight enough to stop the flow, and instructed her to raise it.
“I… I don’t have one,” she replied. “Maybe Mrs. Ackerman has one stashed away somewhere? I wouldn’t pin my hopes to it though.”
Isaac hurried around the kitchen, checking the cupboards, under the sink, on top of the refrigerator. Nothing. He pointed to the bathroom and Olivia followed him. “Maybe she kept it in here. Hold your hand up, above your heart.”
Olivia did as she was told.
Though, truth be told, she wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry as she trailed behind Isaac. It had been a long day, in so many aspects—she’d scrubbed the laundry tub until she could see her own face in the reflection, and then she’d taken down and washed all the curtains, dried them, and then rehung them again. Once she was done with the curtains, she’d sanded back three of the four window sills in the living room, and patched two holes in the bedroom wall with the plaster Abe had sold her the day before at the hardware store.
And now this.
This was just the icing on the cake—so she wasn’t completely surprised when she started to laugh. It was just a giggle at first, but it soon turned into more. She laughed a little louder when Isaac kicked the toilet seat down with his foot, pointing at it for her to take a seat.
And she laughed even harder when he rummaged through the top drawer of the bathroom vanity, searching for something he could use to dress her wound, but instead grabbed out a box of tampons. He stared at them for a beat too long, but then swiftly tossed them back into the drawer.
It was funny. Isaac’s expression was hilarious.
And Olivia couldn’t help but laugh at him.
“Here, this will do.” Isaac found a bandage and some antiseptic ointment in the very back of the second drawer. He dropped his leg on the edge of the tub beside the toilet and faced her. “Let me take a look, and—what the hell are you laughing at?”
“You! You’re a riot. Why aren’t you wearing shoes?”
Isaac sighed and rolled his eyes. He un-wrapped the dishtowel from around Olivia’s hand and rested her wrist across his knee so that he could work properly. He couldn’t get a good angle with the way they were positioned, so he shuffled a bit closer, bringing her hand up further on his thigh.
“This might sting,” he warned.
He wet the towel under the sink behind him, and cleaned the cut on her thumb as carefully as he could, smearing some ointment on it before it started bleeding again.
Isaac tried to ignore Olivia’s quick intake of breath when he touched her skin. He despised the thought of hurting her, but he didn’t have a lot of options. He needed to clean the wound so that it didn’t get infected.
“Hold still.”
Isaac focused on Olivia’s hand, on the wound and how it desperately needed to stop bleeding. But the bathroom was small, the gesture somehow intimate, and their faces were close, so close now that he could feel Olivia’s warm breath on his cheek as she exhaled.
She’d stopped laughing. Thankfully.
But now it was really quiet. And Isaac wasn’t sure which was worse. Every now and then Olivia would look up from h
er hand into Isaac’s eyes. But Isaac didn’t meet her gaze; he just kept his attention where it was needed most, on her hand.
Much safer that way.
Olivia had her other hand resting in her lap, and with the way Isaac was leaning in front of her, the ends of his untucked shirt hung over her fingertips. It was plaid, cotton, and not nearly thick enough for the cold night air outside. The thought that he’d come running to her rescue before he’d even thought to grab himself a coat or put on shoes made Olivia giddy with pleasure.
The material of Isaac’s shirt was soft against her fingertips, sweeping over her skin, a gentle caress every time he moved. And it felt wonderful, the closeness, the crescendo of feelings that bubbled to the surface and begged to be let free.
But that wasn’t enough.
Olivia didn’t think, she didn’t hesitate. She just acted. She knew what she wanted, and everything else be damned, so she took it.
She reached up beneath Isaac’s shirt. Her fingers slowly stroked the smooth, bare skin of his warm stomach, barely a touch but it felt so huge that she almost fell backwards.
Isaac stopped breathing.
There was so much going on around them, blood and bandages, a toilet set, a moldy shower cubicle, but all he could concentrate on was Olivia’s fingers and the way his body was reacting to them.
Her touch was not accidental. It was deliberate.
And Isaac couldn’t remember the last time someone had deliberately touched him.
Olivia was touching him because she wanted to be touching him, and he wondered if maybe she wanted him to touch her too.
Was he ready for that?
He wasn’t sure.
He was a man; of course he wanted to touch her. Touch her in ways he’d only before dreamed of touching a woman. But he didn’t trust himself, didn’t trust that he would know what to do to make Olivia feel the way he wanted her to feel.
He took a deep breath, shaking slightly and he was sure Olivia could hear his heart hurtling along the tracks like an oncoming train approaching at record speed.
Olivia watched from the corner of her eye as Isaac finished wrapping the bandage around her thumb. She watched him put the ointment back in the second drawer, and the whole time she kept her hand on his stomach, tracing the lines of his muscles, feeling the soft hair beneath his belly button against her palm.
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