This Thing Called Love (14 page)

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.

Jeannie checked her watch. “I’m showing my daughter and her husband a property on the other side of the lake. Brad, would you mind giving me a ride over there? My car won’t be out of the shop till tomorrow.”

“No problem. It’s right on my way home.” Brad smiled and nodded a curt good-bye. As he slid his hands off her waist, he left behind a cold void.

Olivia nodded mindlessly as she watched Brad and Jeannie walk down the brick walkway to the street. Her mind was in a tailspin that had nothing to do with the rush of blood to her head.

Running over here had nothing to do with preventing sacrilege to an old house. She could tell herself that every day till she was old, hunched over, and wrinkled, but it was a lie. The real truth surged toward her like floodwaters through a broken dam.

She was completely and helplessly in love with Brad Rushford.

CHAPTER 15

“Naïve, innocent kids,” Olivia mumbled a short while later as she sat on a park bench across from the square, watching a photographer shoot pictures of smiling prom couples under the flower-laden arbor. “If they knew what was good for them, they’d run.” Alex and Meg sat beside her. Annabelle, thank goodness, slept soundly on Meg’s shoulder. Brenda, the owner of Curli-Q, the salon behind them on the square, had wandered out of her shop to see what was going on.

“Here, honey, drink this down.” Alex handed Olivia a plastic cup. “How’s your ankle?”

Olivia held up a hand to say no to the drink. “It’s just a little twisted. I’m fine—just suffering from a bad case of stupidity.” Alex nudged the drink at her until Olivia finally grasped it. As soon as she took a sip, she gagged and clenched her throat to quell the liquid fire. “Good God, what is this?”

“It’s my secret stash. Thought you might need some.” Brenda patted Olivia on the arm, displaying her perfectly lacquered shiny red nails. “If it helps, I think you did the right thing, confronting your ex in front of that other woman.”

“Thanks, Brenda, but it wasn’t nearly that dramatic.” But it would be tomorrow, after it had ground through the gossip mill and turned into how she’d declared her eternal love to Brad and threatened to drive Erika from town.

Olivia squeezed her hand in thanks. Brenda had styled Meg’s and Alex’s and her hair for years, and all their mothers’ hair before that. She had a front-row seat for all the best drama of Mirror Lake.

Brenda went back in her shop for a refill just as a tall man wearing a beard and a large scowl walked up. Benjamin Rushford wore green scrubs and tennis shoes, likely fresh off a shift from his residency program in Hartford.

No one said anything. “Why do I get the feeling there is some serious female issue going on here?” Ben asked, cracking the infamous Rushford smile. He lifted the empty cup from Olivia’s hand and smelled it. “And there’s liquor involved.”

Olivia shrugged, lacking the inclination to explain. Next to her, Meg stiffened. She’d probably fall silent, her usual response to Ben’s presence.

Instead, Meg stood up carefully, cradling Annabelle so as not to disturb the sleeping baby. Giving no more than a quick nod of acknowledgment in Ben’s direction, she spoke to Olivia, a frown casting shadows on her pretty features. “As your friend, I’m entitled to say that sometimes you need a kick in the butt, and right now, you could really use one.”

Ben raised a brow, undoubtedly wishing he’d left when he had the chance.

Alex heaved a sigh. “She’s right, Olivia. Brad just told you he’s not buying that house with Erika. So what’s holding you back?”

Ben’s cell phone rang to the tune of Journey’s “Any Way You Want It.” “I just want to say I’ve never been more grateful to get a phone call.” He answered the phone. “She’s right here. No, I have no idea what happened. All right, Gran. Well, I have a date and I’m twenty-seven years old, but no, I won’t stay out too late.”

He repocketed the phone. “Effie wants to know what happened between you and Brad.”

Alex patted Olivia’s shoulder. “Word travels fast in Mirror Lake.”

“I’m going to get the stroller out of your car and wheel Annabelle home to have a visit with my mom,” Meg said. “She’s been begging to see her. Would that be all right? You can pick her up later.”

Ben held out his arms. “Let me take her and walk you to the car. I’ll do anything to help break this tense mood.”

“Actually, she
is
a bit heavy.” Meg handed Annabelle over.

Ben adjusted the baby awkwardly. “I’m not so sure how to hold her.”

Meg cast him a wary look. “Don’t you deliver babies as part of your medical training?”

“Yeah, but I pass ’em off just as soon as I get them. Like a football.” He made an awkward football-catching gesture with his hands with the baby tucked into the crook of his arm. Then he turned to Annabelle and chirped, “You’re not much bigger than a football, are you, sweetheart?”

Meg helped adjust Annabelle, lifting her head a little and positioning Ben’s arms more comfortably around the baby. “Actually, she’s more the size of a muffler.”

The comparison wasn’t an accident. Ben was constantly working on his refurbished 1967 Mustang convertible.

“I see. Pretend she’s an auto part. Great suggestion, Meggie.” He grinned widely. “I can help you get the stroller and walk you to your house if you want. I’m going right by that way.”

Meg hesitated. “Don’t you have a date?”

“Just meeting some of my guy friends, but not till ten.”

“All right, then, that would be nice.” She turned to her friends on the bench. “Guess we’ll see you all later.”

Olivia mouthed a grateful
thank you
as Meg departed with Ben. Having some time to herself to think would soothe her prickled nerves.

Alex harrumphed. “That’s the first time I’ve ever seen Meg actually talk with him.”

“She’s not that shy.”

“Only around him.”

They watched silently as the tall man and the petite woman walked away past the square.

“So what did Brad say?” Alex demanded.

Olivia scanned her friend’s face. She was past the point of hiding the truth. “He’s not buying the house with Erika. He was looking at it for business reasons.”

Alex rubbed her arm. “Olivia, do you realize what you’ve done?”

“Besides make a fool out of myself, act jealous and crazily possessive of a house I don’t even own, and show half the town I’m insane?”

“Besides all that.”

“I really can’t think of anything else more humiliating at the moment.”

“You’ve just shown Brad you care for him—sort of.” Alex lowered her voice till it sounded unusually gentle. “Now go talk to him.”

“I’ve thought about this a lot, Alex. Both of us are terrified of change. Brad’s spent a long time taking care of other people and I have no idea what my life would be like without my job.”

“Think hard, Olivia. You’ve always been creative. New York isn’t that far away.” She paused thoughtfully. “Besides, look at it this way. Your life has changed whether you want it to or not. What’s a little more?”

Olivia stared at her dream house. In the big side yard, fireflies blinked their neon-green signals. Olivia imagined a gaggle of kids in that yard, playing hide-and-seek, picking blackberries, and roasting marshmallows around a fire pit.

It was a beautiful fantasy, but one that could never be unless they could find some middle ground.

“Look at me,” Alex said, her tone changed back to no-nonsense and insistent, giving Olivia no choice but to obey. She grabbed Olivia by both arms like a packet of Shake ‘n Bake and shook her.

“I’m telling you this as one of your oldest friends. Sometimes a dream needs altering. Love means compromise. Your mother didn’t compromise. She didn’t know how.”

Olivia stared at her friend. She was right. Her mother’s misery had in large part been due to a tendency to see things as black or white, yes or no, either/or.

“Everyone has to make their own choices, Olivia. Don’t be so afraid to examine the possibilities.”

Olivia stood and hugged Alex. She wished things were as simple as Alex made them sound. “Thank you for being a good friend.”

“You want a lift to Meg’s? We can cruise by my house and grab dinner. Tom made a giant pot of mac and cheese for the kids.”

“I need a good walk. But thanks again. I’ll call you.”

Olivia sat for a minute, watching Alex walk back to the diner. Couples strolled around the square, the big frosted globes on the lampposts turning on in the dusky light. On the wide sidewalk, someone walked two little dogs. The sharp aroma of good, strong coffee drifted up as an elderly couple passed, holding their cups from Mona’s on the way to a bench. Olivia got up and cut across the square toward Meg’s mom’s house but stopped short in front of the old Victorian one last time.

What was it about old houses? They held endless mysteries between their walls yet were familiar and comforting, maybe because they lasted over all the hardships of time. Their craftsmanship couldn’t be duplicated. Their uniqueness made all the effort of upkeep worth the trouble.

Kind of like Brad.

Olivia’s father would disagree. He knew all about the leaking basements, the rotted beams, the constant maintenance. That’s probably why Olivia had grown up in a nondescript 1970s ranch. After her mother left, her father didn’t have time for an old house that took as much care as his children.

One of the prom kids had stuck a wrist corsage in the center of the wrought iron gate. White roses—the symbol of youthful innocence. Their sweet fragrance mixed with the sharp, exotic scent of the boxwood hedge that encircled the property.

On impulse, Olivia walked through the gate into the deserted side yard. An abandoned screened porch was empty, one of the screens slashed, and she stepped easily through. The porch connected to a long room with a fine wood floor and a big fireplace. But Olivia saw more than a dusty bare room.

She smelled Christmas pines and baking cookies, heard dogs barking and toddlers pushing toys and lugging baby dolls across carpets onto big comfy couches. She heard good-night stories being whispered to children almost asleep in their beds. She saw a bare-chested man in jeans drinking coffee and reading the Sunday paper, and in her daydream he looked like Brad.

It was foolish to enter the house, especially at dusk when the light would soon be scarce. Olivia’s hands trembled as she clutched the chipped paint of the lower window sash.

For a moment, Olivia lowered her head on her arm. She was so tired. It wasn’t from the jumble of events that had tossed her life around like clothes in a dryer, made it become a spinning merry-go-round out of control.

It was her life in general that had run amuck. She hadn’t realized how much she’d needed her friends. And they’d been right by her side since the moment she’d arrived. Just now, Meg had taken Annabelle without hesitation. They both had kicked her butt when she needed it.

She was lonely. She loved her job, but she wanted more. Something to fill the hollowness inside. Something this house gave her.

She tugged on the sash. Paint splintered and peeled under her fingers, protesting her intrusion. To her surprise, the window opened and she was inside in a flash. Another minute later, she’d scaled the wide staircase and stood in the master bedroom doorway.

The room where she and Brad had first made love so long ago.