A Second Chance at Crimson Ranch (8 page)

“I'm fine with my simple life, thank you very much.”

She envied that in him, his simple life. Even though she knew he'd gone through a lot to finally get there. “Simple is underrated,” she said and pulled his T-shirt over her head. “Thanks for the loan. I probably owe you another one for all the paint splatters.”

She held out the shirt with one hand as she picked at a dry paint splatter on her jeans with the other. When he didn't take it from her or respond, Olivia glanced up.

Logan swallowed as she met his eyes. Their deep blue depths went dark as they lowered to her body. “Where's your sweater?”

“The layers got hot. I left it with my jacket by the front door.” She looked down at the white camisole she'd worn under the sweater this morning, then back at Logan. He hadn't kissed her again since that first time and she'd begun to wonder if she'd imagined it. Despite her conversation with Natalie, Olivia wasn't the type to make a move on a man, nor did she want to compromise the friendship they had. She'd done her best to ignore her attraction to him. They talked and joked and Olivia tried to forget that he was the most beautiful man she'd ever laid eyes on. She paid no attention to the way her stomach fluttered every time his hand brushed against hers.

Looking at him now, she thought maybe she wasn't the only one who'd been denying unspoken feelings. The way his eyes raked over every inch of her at the same time that his body remained rigidly still made her think he was trying to resist her as much as she was him.

“Logan?” she said softly, unable to ask the question that burned in her mind.
Do you want me the way I want you?

“Yes,” was his reply and she thought it might be an answer to her unasked question as well as a response to his name.

Neither of them moved for several long moments until finally she blurted, “You haven't kissed me again.” Now that just sounded pathetic. Blood rushed to her head and she shut her eyes, too embarrassed to look at him when he laughed or rolled his eyes or whatever a guy did when a woman made an idiot of herself.

No response came and after a few seconds, she couldn't stand the quiet. She opened her eyes to find him directly in front of her. She was actually staring at his chest where the fabric of the well-worn shirt opened above the button to reveal a sliver of skin covered with a smattering of hair. She didn't move her gaze from that spot, not to his broad shoulders or the sculpted muscles of his upper arms. She didn't even dare breathe, afraid that if her senses took in any more of him, she might do something really stupid like leap onto him, wrap herself around his gorgeous body and not let go.

She stood absolutely still.

Until he lifted her chin with one finger. Just that light touch had her knees practically melting. When she finally raised her gaze to look at him, he leaned in, brushing his mouth against hers in the lightest, sweetest, gentlest kiss she could have imagined. She swayed into him, because heaven help her, she could barely stand.

He didn't deepen the kiss, just continued to treasure her mouth with the barest of pressure. She didn't know what to do, where to go with this. It was nothing like the kiss he'd given her in his apartment but somehow the need it communicated undid her.

He pulled away and his hand fell to her shoulder, whether to steady her or himself she couldn't tell. “I want to kiss you,” he whispered. Then he took a breath and said more firmly, “I shouldn't want it, but I do.”

“I'm sor—”

“Don't,” he said, taking a step back. “Don't apologize to me, Olivia. Not for what's between us.” His hand raked through his hair. “Just know that I want to do a lot more than kiss you. But I won't.”

“Why?” She couldn't stop the question.

He retreated several more steps. “Too many reasons to count. Because I'm only in Crimson until this job is done. Because you deserve more than I can give you.” He paused and then added, “Because you're married.”

Those three words hit her like a gust of winter wind. “I've filed the papers. You know that. It's only a matter of weeks before the divorce is finalized.” Of the reasons he'd given her, the reference to her marriage stung the most, as if she was betraying her vows when she'd been the one left behind.

“You're moving on with your life,” he said slowly. “I admire you for that. But not with me. It can't be with me.”

Olivia felt tears prick behind her eyes. “Thank you for your honesty,” she said through clenched teeth, determined not to cry in front of him. “It's good to know where things stand.” She summoned every bit of backbone she had, plus all the years of being taught to hide her feelings in order to present a calm exterior in this moment.

Who would have thought she'd get something useful from her mother's browbeating after all? “I hope this doesn't affect the work on the community center or our...friendship.” She kept her voice steady, even as that last word tore from her throat.

“Olivia,” Logan said, his own voice thick.

She held up a hand. “I'm having dinner with Millie tonight. I'd better get going.”

“I'm sorry.”

She turned away, then stopped. “Don't apologize,” she said over her shoulder. “The rules apply both ways. As long as you're honest, you don't have anything to be sorry for.”

She walked out into the cold evening. The air smelled like snow. It was the first week of April but spring was at least a month off in the Rocky Mountains. She didn't bother to put on her sweater or coat despite the frigid temperature. Humiliation kept her skin warm even as hot tears spilled down her cheeks. She climbed into her car and made the short drive to her house.

It was true she had dinner plans with Millie. Despite the myriad of questions about their father and Millie's continual insistence that Olivia had been the lucky daughter, Olivia enjoyed spending time with her half sister. It was surprisingly comforting to talk about your family to someone who had at least a slight understanding of the people involved.

Millie had been hounding her for a girls' night out for the past few days, although Olivia had been clear about her intention to continue keeping a low profile in town. Baby steps and all. But maybe she'd give in tonight. There were a couple of decent bars in town and Olivia could use a break from her normal routine.

She took a deep breath and dried the last of her tears as she walked up the back steps into the kitchen. Millie stood to one side of the island, arms crossed over her chest, her gaze angry as Olivia walked in the door.

Millie wasn't alone.

Olivia's mother was seated at the kitchen table, looking cool, elegant and as angry as Olivia had ever seen her.

As if this day could get any worse.

“What is
she
doing here?” both women said at once, pointing at each other.

“Don't speak over me,” Diana said on a hiss of breath.

“Don't tell me what to do,” Millie spat back.

“Mom,” Olivia said, holding up her hand to quiet Millie. “I didn't know you were coming to visit.” She stepped forward, then bent and gave her mother a quick kiss on the cheek exactly as she'd been trained to do. A regular Pavlov's dog.

“I'm your mother,” Diana replied. “I don't need an invitation. I'm
family
. Family is always welcome.”

Her emphasis on the word
family
was clearly for Millie's benefit.

“Gotta go.” Millie picked up a duffel bag from the floor and slung it over her shoulder. “Nice seeing you, sis.” She flashed a glare at Diana. “Let me know when the Dragon Queen is gone.”

“Wait.” Olivia hurried to stand in front of Millie. “You're family, too.” Diana let out a loud humph behind her. Olivia rolled her eyes. “You don't have to leave, Millie. I'm happy you're here. We're sisters. Really.”

Millie blinked several times, then narrowed her eyes as Diana coughed loudly.

“Would you please be quiet, Mom?” Olivia said, keeping her eyes on Millie. “I mean it.”

“It's okay,” Millie said after a moment. “I have an interview for a job at a Montessori school in Denver anyway. I was going to tell you tonight and head out this weekend.”

“You don't have to leave now.”

“I do.” She pointed past Olivia and made a gagging motion with her finger.

“I see you,” Diana snapped.

Millie smiled. “I know.” She gave Olivia a quick hug. “I'm going to stay with some friends in Denver for a while. I'll call you next week.”

Olivia wanted to argue but her mother sighed dramatically and she realized it was too much to have her half sister and her mother in the house at the same time. She nodded. “Text me how things go with the interview.”

Her sister agreed, then walked toward the door. Just before shutting it, she turned to Diana. “I can see why Dad needed my mom so badly. It would take a lot to defrost a man after he'd spent time with you.”

Olivia shuddered at her mother's outraged gasp. Leave it to Millie to go out with a bang.

As soon as the door shut Diana stood. “I can't believe you'd let that little bas—”

Olivia held up a hand. “Don't say it, Mom. You know I love you, but what Dad did wasn't Millie's fault. She's my half sister. You may not understand it and you don't have to approve, but I want you to respect my decision to have a relationship with her. If that's why you're here then—”

“I'm here because of your husband.”

Olivia stilled. She'd been so unnerved by seeing her mother and Millie in the same room, she'd totally forgotten about Craig. She hadn't told her mother that he'd run off, just glossed over the current goings-on in her life during their weekly chats. Her mother valued commitment to a marriage more than anything. Diana had given up her pride, her heart and much of her life to maintain the pretense of a happy marriage, and Olivia knew she'd expect just the same from her. She knew her mother must have discovered the truth from someone else.

“How did you find out?”

Diana waved her perfectly manicured fingers. “Word travels fast, Olivia. One of my tennis friends came to Aspen for spring break. She heard rumors and I confirmed them. Why didn't you tell me?”

“Because I didn't want to hear that it was my fault.”

“Blame isn't important. I learned years ago that you'll only make yourself crazy that way. What I want to know is what you're doing to get him back?”

“Get him back?” Olivia almost choked on the words. “Maybe you didn't hear the full story, Mom. He cheated on me and ran off with his assistant, draining our bank accounts in the process. It's not my job to get him back, and I wouldn't want him anyway.” That much was true. Olivia might be uncertain about her future but there was no doubt she didn't want it to involve Craig.

“Of course you want him back. He's your husband.” Her mother leaned in, as if divulging a great secret. “You took
vows
.”

“Which he broke!” Olivia's voice rose and she paced back and forth across the kitchen, needing an outlet for the anger bubbling inside her. She was either going to walk it off or strangle her mother. “I'm not going to have this conversation, Mom. I'm not you. Even if I wanted to, Craig left and I doubt he's planning a big reunion with me. But more important, I don't want him.” She stopped and faced Diana. “My divorce will be final within weeks.”

Her mother's eyes flashed. “You can't get a divorce. How will that look?”

“Like I'm not going to roll over while Craig humiliates and deserts me?” Olivia shook her head. “I don't care how it looks. You made your choice with Daddy and I may not have agreed with it, but it was your decision. All I ask is that you show me the same respect. I'm getting a divorce and I want to stay in Crimson. I've gotten additional funding for the community-center project I told you about. I hired a new contractor and it's going to open. It makes me happy, Mom. Happier than I ever was with Craig. I hope you can honor that.”

“You're different,” her mother said softly.

Olivia gave her a small smile. “I don't know if that's a compliment, but I'm going to take it as one.”

“Do you need money?”

The question was a surprise. Olivia shook her head and said, “I sold the Mercedes and Grandma's engagement ring.”

Diana's mouth tightened into a thin line. She looked away for a moment, then back at Olivia. “That diamond was bad luck for the women in our family.”

Olivia let out a breath. While her mother's admission wasn't exactly life changing, it was more than she'd expected. She was done fighting today. “I can heat up some soup,” she offered. “And put together a salad for dinner?”

“That would be fine. I only want what's best for you, Olivia. I hope you realize that.” Before she could answer, her mother disappeared down the hallway.

Chapter Seven

O
nce he finished cleaning up at the work site, Logan drove the few blocks to Olivia's house, pulling into the driveway just as dusk settled. He was tired after a long day of work and frustrated from how he'd left things with Olivia. Somehow he always got mixed up around her. Mainly between what he wanted and what he knew was right.

Lights were on in her house and just knowing she was so close put every part of his body on high alert. He needed to relax. A quiet night was definitely in order. He almost laughed at the irony of that. For years he'd gone looking for trouble when he'd wanted to unwind. Now the most rebellious thing he did was use specialty chips in the cookies he baked. As odd as it probably appeared to most people, the change suited him just fine.

Something caught the corner of his eye as he got out of the truck. He bent down to peer into the window of Millie Spencer's Volkswagen bug. She sat behind the wheel, her hands covering her face, shoulders slumped forward. Something was wrong. He glanced up at the house again but didn't see any sign of Olivia, although she'd mentioned having dinner plans with her sister.

Against his better judgment, Logan opened the passenger side door. “Everything okay?”

Millie jumped so high she practically hit her head on the car's roof. He saw her wipe at her face before turning to him. Tears. Great. His favorite thing.

“It's all rainbows and sunshine out here. Where's your tool belt, stud?”

He folded himself into the small front seat. He'd gotten used to the way Millie teased him. She might look like a teenager, but Olivia's sister could make a sexual innuendo out of the most innocent comment. He had the feeling her forward manner was all an act, but he went along with it.

“I'm not interested in nailing anything at the moment.”

She smiled, which was a big improvement over crying. “If you're not going to use it the right way, all that hotness is wasted on you.”

“I'll take that under advisement.” He shifted in the seat. How did anyone over five feet tall get comfortable in such a tiny car? “Aren't you and Olivia having dinner together tonight?”

“I'm heading to Denver to meet up with some friends. The nightlife in Crimson is lame-o.”

He leveled her with a look, knowing there was more to the story.

“Her mom arrived today. Olivia didn't know she was coming. Let me tell you, Diana Jepson doesn't have much use for her late husband's illegitimate daughter underfoot.”

Logan grimaced. “I can't imagine Olivia asked you to leave.”

“No, but she wouldn't turn away her mother, either. The three of us in the house would be far too hard.” She shrugged. “It's time, anyway. I've got a job interview and I can't mooch off a sister I barely know forever.”

“She likes having you here.”

“She likes having you here, too.” Millie's eyebrow rose as if challenging him to argue.

“Olivia is an amazing woman. Stronger than she knows.” Logan said the words out loud but wasn't sure if they were for Millie's benefit or his.

“She's damn near perfect. Always has been. But it's a burden to her.”

He turned toward her. “What do you mean?”

“It's tough being so unflappable and resilient and proper. Everybody wants to let loose sometimes. Even Saint Olivia. It's hard to find your true place in the world when you're so used to living according to what other people believe about you. I understand that.” She poked him in the shoulder. “I'm guessing you can, too.”

He didn't respond so she continued, “The trick for someone like her will be to find a person who she can be real with and still feel safe.”

“I'm not safe.”

“You care about her.”

More than he would ever admit.

He opened the door, letting a blast of cold air into the car. “If you need anything, Millie, let me know. Good luck on that job interview.”

Without waiting for a response, he got out and climbed the steps to his apartment. Not his, he reminded himself. This was Olivia's house, her garage, her life. He was just passing through. He didn't belong. He could be her friend, nothing more.

It was his feelings of friendship that kept him glancing out the window as the evening wore on, monitoring the lights in the house. He wasn't sure what he expected to see, but from what Olivia had told him about her mother, it seemed like it wouldn't be an easy night for her.

He should mind his own business. That had become second nature to him in the past few years. But he couldn't stop worrying about her. Twice he'd put on his boots, ready to knock on her door just to check if things were okay.
Stupid
, he told himself. He'd never met Diana, but could imagine that he was not the sort of man she'd want consorting with her daughter at a time like this.

He'd just put a tray of brownie batter in the oven when something propelled him to the window once more. His breath caught as he noticed Olivia standing in the middle of the driveway, halfway between the house and the garage. It had begun to snow, big heavy flakes that settled on her hair and shoulders. She wore a long parka and in the dim light that came from the house, he could see that her eyes were closed and her lips moving.

He opened the door. “Are you trying to catch pneumonia?” he called out, aware that he sounded like someone's grandma.

Her eyes snapped open and she glanced back over her shoulder before walking to the bottom of the stairs that led to the apartment. Her mouth was drawn in a tight line, her skin rosy from the air and snow.

She gazed up at him. “I didn't want to bother you.”

“You're not.” He gestured past him to the apartment. “Come inside, Olivia.”

She didn't move for at least a minute, as if weighing something bigger than whether to walk up the few steps.

Finally she took the first step. Logan felt the pressure in his chest release.

He closed the door behind her and took her coat. She wore flannel pajamas with a tiny floral pattern across them. They were demure, cozy and sexy as hell. Her hair and face glimmered with wetness as the snowflakes melted from the heat in his apartment.

“I don't know what I'm doing here. I'm sor—” She stopped herself with a wry grin. “My mom went to bed early and I didn't want to be by myself in the house.” Her fingers worked at one of the small buttons on the front of her pajama shirt.

He nodded. “I saw Millie as she was leaving.”

Her eyes drifted shut. “She hadn't been here long, but we were finally starting to move past all the stuff with our father and get to know each other. I expected to have more time with her. Now she probably hates me.”

“You're the least hate-able person I've ever met.”

“Thank you,” she said, looking at him again. “I actually do know why I'm here.” She continued to worry the button as she spoke. “You make me feel okay about myself. Like I don't have to pretend to have it all together or work to meet anyone else's needs. Like it's enough just to be me.”

She was so beautiful and vulnerable standing in front of him it almost brought him to his knees.

“You're more than enough,” he said, his voice ragged with the emotion he tried to tamp down.

Her mouth curved into a small smile and some of the shadows lifted from her gaze.

I did that
, Logan thought. He was prouder of this moment than anything else he'd done in his life.

But he didn't move. As much as he wanted to cross the room and sweep her into his arms, he stood where he was. She needed him to show her whatever tiny sliver of goodness he had left in his soul. She was desperate for a friend and if it killed him, he was going to be that for her.

She watched him for several more seconds, then turned her attention to the counter. “You're baking.” Her smile widened.

“Brownies.”

“From scratch?”

“You wound me, Olivia.” He clamped one hand to his chest, grateful to lighten the mood. “Of course they're from scratch.”

She giggled and came forward slowly. “I've never met anyone who made brownies from scratch. You'd better not let it get out that you've got...” She waved her hand up and down in front of him. “All that going on and you bake, too. The ladies of Crimson will be beating down your door.”

“All that?”

“Don't pretend like you don't know what you look like.”

“I look like a guy.”

“A movie star kind of guy.” She shook her head. “Your brothers have it, too. You three must have wreaked havoc on the girls in high school.”

He shrugged. “They were older, but I guess I had some big footsteps to follow in when I discovered women.” He folded his arms across his chest. “When I wasn't busy with all my juvenile delinquent fun.”

“I'd love to hear more stories of your troublemaking days, especially since you're turning into such an honorable twenty-something Boy Scout.”

“Boy Scout?” he interrupted.

One of her eyebrows lifted. “At least where I'm concerned.” She motioned to the bowl sitting next to the sink. “But now I'm more interested in the fact that there's leftover batter.” She opened a drawer and pulled out a spoon, dragging it along the side of the bowl.

She was playing with him, he knew. Getting her revenge for the fact that he'd ended the kiss earlier. She knew he wanted her. How could she not realize how much he wanted her? Clearly her goal was to torture him, to drive him to the limit of his willpower and then right over the edge.

What she didn't know was that he'd already been teetering on the brink for weeks. Almost since the first moment he'd laid eyes on her.

As she lifted the spoon to her mouth he took it from her, his hand covering hers. He bent his head forward and licked her knuckle where a bit of batter had dripped, sucking the sweetness from her skin. He tossed the spoon in the sink and ran one finger along the rim of the bowl. His eyes never leaving hers, he brought his finger to her lips. Her tongue darted out, tasting the chocolate and then pulling his fingertip into her mouth. The warmth and wetness and slight suction were too much for him and he pulled away, wiping his hand on a dish towel.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked through clenched teeth. He held the towel so tight he thought it might rip in half.

“Because I don't care.” She took a step closer to him. “It doesn't matter to me that you're only in Crimson for a few more weeks. Or that you think we don't fit or that I'm too old for you.” She placed her hand on his. “Or that my divorce isn't final.”

“You aren't too old, and I didn't say we wouldn't fit.” He loosened his grip on the towel and entwined his fingers in hers, his thumb tracing small circles on the inside of her palm. “I said you deserve someone better. There's a big difference.”

He heard her small sigh. “That's not your decision to make, Logan. A lot of things happen in life we don't deserve. My father choosing his second family over my mom and me, my husband cheating and then stealing all of my money. Your sister's death. But we
do
deserve some happiness now. To feel good and real and wanted. You make me feel that way. I don't care about any of the rest of it. I need to feel more than hollow again. Does that make sense?”

He continued to run his thumb across her soft skin. It did make sense, and it scared the hell out of him. He'd gotten so used to feeling hollow that it had become the norm. Normal and safe. He'd locked away his pain, in part so it wouldn't control him.

All of the stupid things he'd done in life had been a result of lashing out from emotional pain he couldn't manage. The truth was, he was afraid to let Olivia in because being with her might open a floodgate of feelings he couldn't control.

When he turned toward her, to the need and nervousness in her expression, all of his worry seemed to fade away. Maybe he couldn't be the man she deserved, but he could damn sure try to make her happy. To erase some of the pain she worked so hard to hide. If he could fill her empty places without letting down his own walls, that would be enough.

He wasn't sure if his logic made sense, but he had to come up with a reason why it was okay for him to kiss her right now. He couldn't stop himself from taking her in his arms and was sick of trying to fight his desire for her.

He cupped her face between his hands and lowered his mouth to hers, tasting a sweetness that went far beyond the lingering flavor of chocolate on her lips. She was sweet as sin to him, and Logan had never been good at resisting a chance to sin.

He nipped the corners of her mouth and trailed his lips down her jaw to the pale skin of her throat. Her head tipped back to give him better access, and he felt, more than heard, her soft moan as he licked his way down to the collar of her pajama top. He felt her sway against him and he lifted his head again, claiming her mouth as he picked her up in his arms.

Her hands laced through his hair and her legs wrapped around his hips. Her response drove him crazy with need. The apartment wasn't large and it took him only a few steps to reach the bedroom. He yanked back the covers and lowered her to the sheet. He reached for her top button, but her hand covered his.

“You first,” she whispered even as a trail of pink swept across her face.

“Whatever you want,” he told her and, grabbing his shirt by the collar, pulled it over his head.

He followed Olivia's widened gaze to the tattoo inked above his heart. “My sister's initials,” he explained.

She nodded, then swallowed. “All
that
,” she said, motioning to his body. “And all this.” She pointed to herself. “It may not be a fit after all.”

* * *

For several minutes, Logan watched her. His brows furrowed and Olivia wanted to groan. Leave it to her to throw a big wet blanket of insecurity over the most exciting moment of her life.