Heading back to the station at the end of his shift, Zach pulled up behind a white van he recognized as Carly’s. Likely Olivia leaving the studio for home.
It had been two days since he’d pressed her up against the wall and kissed her. And two nights with little sleep. He couldn’t get the taste or the feel of her out of his mind.
Coming home that night had only made matters worse. Even though he’d renovated the Hastings house, he couldn’t erase the memories of a sixteen-year-old Olivia laid out naked on the pile of blankets and sleeping bags, her pale skin aglow in the light of camp lanterns he’d set around the room.
Looking back, they’d been so young, but no matter what anyone said, they’d loved each other. Deep, heartfelt, long-lasting love. And the other night, when he’d kissed her, and she’d kissed him back, that love came rushing back in all its soul-wrenching intensity.
The van suddenly swerved into the oncoming lane before crossing to the shoulder, bringing him back to the present. Then another swerve.
“Ah, hell.” He sure hoped Olivia, or whoever was driving, wasn’t texting. Zach flipped on his lights and siren.
The van pulled off the road onto the narrow shoulder. Parking behind the van, Zach slipped his police ball cap on his head. But as he got out of his car, the driver’s side door in the van flew open, and Olivia jumped out and ran into the street, arms waving frantically.
“What the fuck?” The vandalism came to mind, and he wondered if someone had done something to the car. Going on alert, he ran over to her.
Before he could ask, she yelled, “There’s a bee in the car!”
“Bee? Shit. Where’s your EpiPen? Did you get stung?”
When they were thirteen, before she knew she was allergic, she and Zach were in his backyard working in a small vegetable garden he’d planted for his dad when she’d first gotten stung. It happened so fast—the swollen tongue, the difficulty breathing, and then the vomiting. He’d called 911, and the ambulance had taken her to the ER. Scared him to death. Since that day, she’d carried an EpiPen with her just in case.
“I’m not stung. I’m not.” Her breath came in frantic pants.
“Are you sure?” He took her by the arms and held her, so he could look into her eyes.
“I’m sure.” She brushed hair out of her face as she steadied her breathing.
He tugged her out of the road and over to the shoulder. “Okay, good.” His own heart raced to the point that talking was difficult, and he gave in to the compulsion to pull her into his arms and hold her. She went willingly.
Damn, she felt good. No. Not good. She felt . . . amazing. His body remembered every plane and curve of hers.
Wrapping his arms around her, he held her close as their heartbeats slowed. Her arms encircled his waist, and her breath was warm against his chest, conjuring visions of nights spent in the dilapidated house.
He closed his eyes, wishing he never had to let her go. A car honked as it drove past, and Olivia released him. “I’m good. Thanks. I just need to make sure the bee is gone.”
Reluctantly letting her go, he stepped back. “You stay here. I’ll check.”
Although how he’d determine whether something as small as a bee had escaped, he had no idea. Just listen for buzzing he guessed.
He checked the most obvious places—where the dash and front windshield met, the other windows. Finally, he climbed into the driver’s seat and set his hand on the console and . . . Fuuuck. “Found it!”
Lifting his hand, he glared down at the stinger embedded in his palm. Better him than Olivia, but . . . shit. That mother hurt.
Olivia had it on good authority that she would find Zach at The Firehouse Taproom that evening, so when she entered the pub, she hoped to find him sitting at the bar. Instead, she spotted Kristen sitting there, tapping a fingernail against the glass. Her body language spoke volumes. If they had been friends, Olivia would’ve walked over and lent her an ear. But as things stood, she pivoted on her heel with a surreptitious glance back . . .
“If you’re looking for Zach, he and Tyler just left for the brewery—something about a new cinnamon apple ale,” Kristen threw over her shoulder without turning around. “But they’ll be back.”
Crap. Busted. How’d she . . . ? The mirror behind the bar. With a mental forehead slap, Olivia made a self-conscious about-face and approached Kristen. Kristen picked up her glass and took a sip of her beer, and suddenly Olivia craved a beer herself. She rarely drank her calories, but with a resigned sigh, she sat on the barstool next to Kristen. When the bartender came over to her, she said, “I’ll have what she’s having.”
“One Engine Company Lager coming up.”
“You know drinking alone will give you a reputation,” Olivia said.
Kristen snorted. “Like I don’t already have one.” Lifting a brow, she continued. “Besides, I’m not drinking alone.”
Neil set the amber liquid in front of Olivia, and Kristen held out her glass for a silent toast. Olivia lifted hers and tapped it to Kristen’s.
She studied Kristen a moment. She lacked the sass she’d so often wore like a mantle. “What’s going on?”
“What makes you think something’s going on?” Kristen said, a defensive note to her voice.
“I’ve seen that expression in the mirror a lot lately.”
“What expression would that be?”
“Melancholy.”
Kristen nodded.
“The business?” Olivia prodded.
“No. It’s going gangbusters.” Kristen hesitated, heaved a sigh, then continued, “It’s the third anniversary of my mother’s death.”
The almost constant weight of grief that Olivia carried around with her engulfed her with the reminder.
“She was such a pill, but damn I miss her.” She took a gulp of her beer.
Olivia could relate. “I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry for bringing it up. You just lost Carly. You don’t need to share my grief. You’ve got plenty of your own.”
“It’s okay.” Olivia lifted her glass to the light. “We can drown our sorrows in Tyler’s excellent brew. Tyler Kincaide, brewmeister. Who knew?”
Kristen snorted then turned her body to face her, a look of surprise on her face. “I never saw you as a beer-drinking kinda girl.”
“It’s true I don’t drink it often—too many calories—but once in a while isn’t going to kill me. And when it’s this good, who’s counting calories?”
Neil set a bowl of spiced mixed nuts and popcorn in front of them. “Ladies.”
Kristen dug in, tossing a handful of popcorn into her mouth with one hand and sliding the bowl closer to Olivia with the other.
“No, thanks. I have to draw the line somewhere. Do you want to talk about her? Your mom, I mean.”
“No. But thanks for asking.” Kristen munched on the popcorn, wiped her hand on a napkin, then took another sip of beer. She tilted her head as she gazed at Olivia. “You know, I never really liked you in high school.”
“No! Really?” Olivia shot Kristen a look of feigned disbelief.
Kristen shook her head and laughed. “Guess it showed.”
“Yeah. Especially when you wrote ‘Olivia is a skinny bitch’ on the locker room wall.”
Kristen had the good graces to wince. “Damn. I was harsh back then.”
Olivia snorted. “Back then?”
Kristen lifted an indolent shoulder. “Okay, guess I haven’t changed much.” She turned her beer glass in a circle on the bar. “I hated you because you had something I thought I wanted. And you took it for granted.”
A sharp stab of jealousy shot through Olivia. “Zach.” Of course she’d always known Kristen wanted him. She figured in all the years she’d been gone that Zach and Kristen would have gotten together. The scene in the grocery store had confirmed it.
She nodded in agreement. “Zach.” Silent a beat, a soft smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “He was nice to me. He didn’t treat me like white trash.”
Now it was Olivia’s turn to wince. Had she treated Kristen like white trash? “That’s Zach.” Not sure if she wanted an answer to her next question, she asked anyway. “So, what’s stopping you now?”
“You mean besides the fact that he’s already given his heart away?”
Olivia’s stomach lurched. To whom?
“Don’t look so surprised. Of course, it’s you. It’s always been you.”
“Me?” Olivia shook her head. “No. I left. He let me. End of love story.”
Kristen turned on the barstool to face Olivia. “Are you still that blind?”
Affronted, Olivia’s temper flared. “No. And I never was. I loved Zach.” Still did, apparently. “My plans included him, but he wouldn’t come with me.”
“He couldn’t leave his father, you know that. And he wouldn’t let you sacrifice your career for him.”
On a heavy sigh, Olivia lifted her beer. “No. He couldn’t. And wouldn’t.” But, dammit, she wished Zach had fought for her just a little. “And did you offer to console him by sleeping with him?”
Kristen barked out a laugh. “No.”
Olivia couldn’t say why the pit dissipated at her response, but she placed a hand over her stomach, grateful.
“Not then anyway. I slept with Zach about . . . five years ago now.” Her statement came out as nonchalant as if she mentioned running into someone on the sidewalk.
The pit was back and had apparently grown thorns. So, she hadn’t imagined the affection she’d witnessed between them. Unable to speak past the irrational tears in her throat, she stared at their reflection in the mirror behind the bar, unseeing.
Heartsick, Olivia thought to leave, but Kristen’s hand on her arm stopped her. “But it didn’t work. We just didn’t . . . click. Couldn’t get past the friend zone.”
Olivia jerked her head around to face Kristen in disbelief and relief.
“Now we’re just good friends.” Lifting the glass to her lips, Kristen drained the beer in a single gulp and set the empty glass back on the bar. “Without benefits.” A sad smile flashed across her face then disappeared. “He helped clean out my mom’s trailer after she died, stood by me at the funeral, and chipped in when I was setting up the café.” Another pause. “I love him.” She turned and locked eyes with Olivia’s. “But only as a friend. And as a friend, I’ll defend him to the end, just like he’s done for me.”
Olivia considered Kristen’s statement a moment. “And by that you mean from me.”
Kristen shrugged. “From anyone.” She nodded in Olivia’s direction. “Including you.”
“So you still hate me, then.”
“Hate is such a strong word. But yes, if you break his heart again, I’ll hate you.”
His? What about her heart?
“Soooo, tell me, what’s it like dating a rock star?”
“Well, thanks for the whiplash.” Olivia reached up and feigned rubbing her neck. “That’s an abrupt change of subject.”
Kristen chuckled. “Sorry. I’ve been wondering that since you got home.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Olivia muttered, wiping condensation off her glass with her finger.
Kristen made a sound in her throat—part cough, part snort.
Olivia rolled her eyes. Not this again. “If I’d dated, read, slept with everyone I stood next too at a fundraiser, VIP reception, or social engagement, I’d deserve the title slut.”
Kristen lifted a brow in challenge at the implication. “And those photos?”
“Lies.” Olivia backtracked, “Well, the photos were real, but the stories were lies.”
“The Prince?”
“Amir?”
“Why, was there another one?” Kristen asked, her eyes alight.
Olivia scoffed. “No.”
“That actor.” Kristen snapped her fingers trying to recall the name. “Kendrick Luther?”
“Definitely not.”
“Okay, but Blade, right?”
Olivia gave Kristen a look that said, What have you been smoking? “Not in this lifetime.”
“But—”
“Don’t believe everything you read.” Olivia lifted the glass and drained it, ready to end this conversation.
“Well, if it isn’t the two prettiest women in Northridge.” Olivia turned with a start to see Tyler Kincaide enter from the back and all but felt Kristen stiffen and the temperature in the bar drop a few degrees.
“Hi, Tyler,” Olivia said, climbing off the barstool to give him a hug.
Tyler kissed her cheek. “Been wondering if I’d see you in here.” He cut a glance at Kristen, who kept her back to him.
“Great place, by the way.” Olivia lifted her hand to indicate the pub. “And great beer.”
“It’s a long tale full of woe. I’ll tell you sometime over another beer. Or five.”
Olivia could have sworn she heard Kristen give a derisive snort.
“I got some work to do in the back.” He thumbed behind him and glanced once more in Kristen’s direction. “Let’s catch up soon.”
“That would be great.”
Olivia took her seat again, leaning in to whisper, “Why don’t you like Tyler? And if you don’t like him, why do you come here and drink his beer?”
“Who said I didn’t like him?” Kristen returned with an anything-but-nonchalant shrug.
“Um, you did. Or rather your body did. I’ve seen more welcoming body language on a scorned ex-wife.”
Casting Olivia a baleful look, Kristen threw a ten on the bar, grabbed her purse, and stood. “Gotta go.” Then she lit out of the place like her ass was on fire.
“Was it something I said?” Olivia muttered to herself.
“No.”
Startled, Olivia turned to find Zach standing behind her, hands stuffed into his jeans pockets.
“Kristen and Tyler are like oil and water. To this day, I don’t know why. Neither one will say.”
Seeing Zach, knowing now that he and Kristen had slept together—even once—Olivia’s heart thudded, dull and heavy in her chest. She couldn’t do this now. She’d plan to buy him a beer, to thank him for rescuing her today, but she changed her mind.
Taking a cue from Kristen, Olivia pulled a ten from her wallet and tossed it onto the bar. “I gotta go.”
Zach stood, hands on hips. “Didn’t know I could clear a room with such efficiency,” he muttered, but she could feel his eyes on her all the way to the door. Eyes that haunted her in her sleep.