Chapter Seventeen

Dave struggled to think against the urge to drag Livie back into his arms. He lifted her hands to his lips and pressed a light kiss. Me? Us? “What?”

Mirth sparkled in her eyes. “Ice cream. Come on.”

A laugh cracked from him, the pressure dropped away, he had control over his desire, and he could breathe again. He scooped up his cane. “Yeah, sounds good.”

Livie released one hand and took the first stair step, gently tugging. He followed, keeping her hand clasped in his until he had to release her to unlock the door.

Livie flicked the light switch. “Have a seat.” She waved toward the sofa, but he followed her and sat at the table.

“I’ll cut up a mango to go over this ice cream.” She set the pint of vanilla on the counter.

“Never had mango.” Time to stop worrying and just enjoy their conversation, her graceful movements, the sweet curves of her rear, shapely calves beneath her skirt, the sway of hair over her back.

“Really? I love it.” She gathered a cutting board, knife, bowl, and two mangoes from the fruit bowl. After weighing one in each hand, her expression thoughtful, she returned the right-hand one to the bowl. “Almost, but not quite.”

He dragged his mind from the gentle, kissable curves of her mouth. “How do you tell?

“Like choosing a peach. When a gentle squeeze feels just right?” Livie sliced the mango into three portions, lightly crosscut the two seedless pieces, and neatly filleted the bright orange cubes away from the skin. Next, she trimmed the skin from the remaining center part and the strips of fruit away from the large seed and swiftly cubed those strips. She tossed the cubes into a bowl with a sprinkle of sugar and stirred.

“Want me to scoop the ice cream for you?”

“Sure. We can use the blue glass bowls from the china cabinet. Grab them for me, and I’ll dig out the scoop.”

Her antique cherry cabinet had the warm glow and mellow finish of a long-used and gently cared-for piece. He eyed the prettily displayed glass, china, and silver. As a kid, the no-touch zone of the china cabinet had been drilled into him. Not even Dad went inside, and heaven help you if even one glass got rattled from clumsiness or horseplay.

“Uh, I’m fine with regular bowls. No need to fancy it up.”

She smiled. “I use those dishes all the time. No sense having beautiful things if you don’t use them. Wait until you see how good the vanilla ice cream and mango look against the blue glass.”

Dave opened the glass doors and hesitated. Dumb how tightly childhood memories clung. He extracted the two bowls and set them on the table with a relieved chuckle. Done and no lightning from heaven.

“What’s funny?” She turned, offering out the scoop.

“Nothing. Just glad to be here.” He took the scoop. The truth, even if getting here had taken near losing his mind.

“I’m glad you’re here, too.”

After he filled each bowl with several curls of ice cream, Livie added generous spoonfuls of mango and juice. She studied her arrangement and smiled happily. “All set. Let’s get comfortable on the sofa and dig in.”

Livie was right, the fruit and ice cream looked real nice in the dishes. Sure, he preferred a good-tasting meal, but for much of his life, eating was simply a vital refueling of his body. Seeing the visual appeal of the simple dessert through Livie’s perspective was…interesting.

The neatly arranged phone, stone coaster, remotes, and three books on an end table showed Livie’s preferred spot on the couch. He sat at the opposite end. Some physical space might be sensible.

However, she curled beside him, her feet tucked beneath her, and paused expectantly.

He spooned up some mango. A rich sweet-tart burst of fruit and the creamy slide of vanilla filled his first bite. “Hey, this is good.”

Livie smiled, looking up from under her lashes, and the slow slip of the spoon from between her lips had him shift in his seat.

She blushed and shyly licked her lips. “To make a fancier dessert, you can add Grand Marnier and puree the mango to make a sauce and decorate with mint leaves. I thought you’d enjoy it plain to taste the mango.”

“I do.” He leaned in and took a kiss. She was sweet and warm and tasted of mango, vanilla, and home, but he kept his hunger for her tightly controlled, his hands off, and the kiss easy.

They pulled apart.

“The ice cream’s melting.” A rich blush flooded her cheeks. Her eyes softened.

“Right.” He was damn warm himself. Maybe he’d better finish his ice cream and call it a night.

Awkward silence ruled as they finished eating. He caught her stifling a yawn. The indecision dogging him earlier vanished. He set their empty dishes aside on the coffee table.

“I should wash them.”

“Later.” He tugged her to lie with him on the sofa, wrapping her in his arms. She settled with a pleased sigh and a deeper yawn, her head against his shoulder.

She kissed his jaw. “So what are we doing here?”

“Figuring things out.”

“I’ve been trying to go day by day on that.”

He chuckled. “I’ve been trying to make plans.”

“I tried so hard not to miss you.”

“I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I don’t have my act together.”

She stroked his hand. “Dave, for right now, stop worrying. Did anyone ever tell you, you think too much sometimes?”

A rough laugh broke from him. “No, never been accused of that.”

“You’ll work this out. We’ll work this out.”

After that, they simply held each other. As she drifted to sleep, he relaxed under the growing peace and hope and ignored responsibility’s nudge to wake her and send her to her bed.

He woke with Livie’s arms wrapped around him, cocooned together under the sofa throw blanket. He’d slept well, no nightmares in her arms.

The morning sun painted her with mellow light, her lashes made peaceful crescents, her lips softly parted, her hair mussed. The desire to stroke his fingers through the silky tangles tempted him, but he resisted. Yes, he craved her, but he found contentment in this quiet moment to simply cherish watching her sleep.

This first morning waking with her would not come again, and the importance struck him hard. With Livie, everything was different and significant. The enormity of it all gnawed at his peace.

This is a challenge, like every other challenge you’ve faced. First wave, first cliff, first fire, first jump from a plane. You faced each and succeeded.

But those, he’d only risked himself. He’d failed with Tess, badly. If he failed Livie again…That fear burned in his chest.

Or she’ll be part of the success. Where are those guts of yours?

****

Olivia woke knowing exactly who was holding her. Joy and hope surged through the shreds of sleep.

“Good morning.” Dave’s drowsy voice rumbled under her, and he stroked her back.

“What time is it?”

He nuzzled a kiss to her hair. “Too early to be up.”

“Good. How are you?”

“Better than I’ve been in far too long, but I could use some toothpaste and the bathroom.”

“I happen to have a spare toothbrush and a bathroom.” She slipped from his arms with a kiss.

Dave swung his legs over and sat up, rubbing his left thigh and wincing. Before she could ask if he was all right, he glanced up, countering her concern with a rueful smile. “No worries. Just the usual morning aches.”

“I’m sorry. My sleeping on you couldn’t have helped.”

He accepted her offered hand and rose stiffly. “Sleeping with you in my arms was the best rest I’ve had in forever. I’ll be fine after I move around.”

She found him the spare toothbrush and left him to the bathroom, while she brushed her own teeth in the kitchen and readied the coffee. Before she pressed On, the shower ran and the bathroom door opened.

Dave held out his hand, his eyes deep gleaming gold. She let him pull her into the bathroom and into a slow minty kiss.

Olivia slid her fingers through his hair. Loving Dave…Amid the storm of worries and doubts, she had this strange core of utter certainty. This was more than a simple affair—not that it had ever been simple between them. This was more than physical, more than craving the marvelous things he could make her feel. This was right.

After dragging off his shirt, he peeled her top away. She stroked his chest and shoulders, savoring sharply defined muscle groups under smooth skin and enticing silky-rough hair.

He drew her skirt down until it fell away into a puddle around her feet. More sweet, burning kisses delayed her efforts with his zipper, but his jeans and briefs soon joined her skirt.

Teasing, nibbling kisses through the lace of her bra left her breathless with need. He slid the straps from her shoulders, kissing the marks left from sleeping in the bra, and freed her breasts, lavishing more kisses.

Oh, so good.

Dave stroked calloused fingers over her skin, raising delicious shivers, teasing along the lace of her panties. He slipped his hands beneath the elastic, cupping her bottom, and she rose, riding against the rigid heat of his erection. Groaning impatiently, he tugged at her panties until they too slipped away.

He drew her into the rushing warm water where they shared long, crazy kisses, greedy, seeking hands and mouths, and moans of oh, yes and more. His tongue and nips and suckling drove delighted gasps from her, and her body throbbed with the need to wrap herself around him, take him deep, reclaim her missing half.

“I need you. Now.” She snatched the condom packet he’d placed on the shower shelf. Thank goodness for a man who was prepared. Twisting around, she crushed the packet into his hand.

“Your wish is my pleasure.” His growled words as he covered himself stoked her already scorching need. After a hard kiss, he turned her away, cupping and tenderly massaging her breasts, his erection stroking against her bottom.

She flattened her hands against the tiles, anchoring herself, both loving and exasperated by his lazy play with her breasts and the teasing slide of his shaft. Warm water streamed down her back, tickling between her legs, and she rose on her toes, arching her back, straining for more touch, willing him to hurry and fill her.

Chuckling richly, Dave nudged at her to enter, only to glide away. “Like that?”

She wriggled, crying in frustration. “Yes! No! Oh, Dave, please.”

He caressed her bottom, and his laughter rumbled. “I wish you could see what I see. You’ve got the most gorgeous ass. So beautiful. Tell me again what you want.”

“You. Now.”

He gripped her hips and filled her, slow and deep, and they both groaned.

“Yes! This. This.” She shut her eyes, relishing his heat and strength.

He began to move, a gentle perfect tempo. His fingers tightened. “Aw, sweetheart, you feel so good.”

She arched, meeting his thrusts, wanting more, and he gave, moving one hand to her breast, the other sliding down to torment her needy bundle of nerves, all while he drove them together in firm, luxurious strokes.

Trembling filled her, her joy and all the singular pleasures knotting together, drawing her tauter, higher. This time, focus heightened the pleasure, focus on Dave and their bodies’ connection and the sweet hard fullness, the steamy air and the massaging torrent of water, her pounding heart, and her overwhelming happiness. At his growling order, “Come for me,” she surrendered to sensation and to Dave, the pleasure crashed through her, and she came crying his name.

He wrapped her in his sturdy arms, steadying her. “Kiss me.”

She twisted in his grip, breathlessly seeking his lips. He seized her mouth in a slow deep kiss, filling her over and over, a lush slide and thrust, tongue and body, drawing out the sweet shivery aftershocks. And to her surprise, she wasn’t done. He moved harder and faster, again and again. She had no idea how long and didn’t care, loving his strength and intensity, lost in feeling as he brought her flying high again, loving his guttural “Aw…aw,” and his shout joining her cry as he came, holding her tight.

They sagged against the shower wall.

“That was…” She laughed breathlessly.

“Mind blowing.”

“Yes.”

With the crazed edge of need blunted, they attended to washing up, if imperfectly, which involved slippery play with soap and hands, laughter, and many more kisses until cold water drove them from the shower.

Kisses as they toweled off led to kisses in the kitchen, the coffeemaker ignored, and steadily through the living room and into her shadowy bedroom. Who needed caffeine when she had Dave’s kisses?

Dave yanked the bedding open, sending her pillows tumbling. Locked together in a hard, hot kiss they sank onto the bed, but too abruptly, he rolled away and stood.

Livie propped up on her elbows, puzzled.

He flashed a sharp smile. “Stay.” He drew open her drapes, flooding the room with morning light. “I need to see you.” Happiness gleamed in his intense eyes as he leisurely swept her with his gaze.

She flushed, remembering his studying her under the sky and sun at Mohave. He was gorgeous to study in turn, even with his scars, so at ease in his nudity.

Settling onto the bed beside her, he traced fingers along her leg, circling over her hip and then up to caress her breast and nipple left rosy and sensitive from his mouth. “You are so beautiful.”

“With you, I feel beautiful.” She stroked his cheek, relishing the rasp of morning scruff, and brushed her thumb over his soft, firm lips.

He caught her thumb in his teeth, eyes lighting with teasing. “What’re you thinking?”

“How happy I am.” Time to admit to herself that she loved Dave, whether it was right or not and even whether he loved her or not.

“Happy, huh?”

“Very happy. What are you thinking?”

“How much I want you. How I’ll always want you.” Fierce emotion rang in his rough voice.

Her heart soared wildly, as if he’d said I love you. Honestly, did the words matter? She’d had the words before, and the vows, only the actions had fallen far short and the vows had been smashed. Did words matter at all if the actions proved true?

She pressed her hand to his chest, nudging him to lie back against the pillows. “Then let me show you how much I want you, too.”

Brushing her lips over his, and softly biting, she caressed her hand along his rising shaft. Her heartbeat drummed, pulsing at the crux of her thighs. She curved her hand around him, softly stroking, loving how he gave her this freedom to play, amazed how much she loved wanting to give Dave pleasure.

A sigh hissed from him, and he rocked into her hand, growing thick and rigid. “That’s good, sweetheart.”

I like being touched.

Daring herself to take another step away from the past, she kissed her way down his chest, paying attention to his tight nipples, stroking his hard length, relishing how his breath came faster and her own surge of pleasure at his every lusty groan. She loved the way he skimmed his fingertips over her skin, keeping contact without interrupting her exploration.

Her trail of kisses over his abdomen brought her to her destination. Her nerves tightened. She’d never tried this on her own before, never wanted to, and Dave had never asked her, but she was determined to banish more ugly memories.

Nothing ventured…She touched a brushing kiss to the hot crown of him.

“Aw, Livie, yeah.” His hips flexed, and he caught his hands onto her head.

At his restraining grip, old anxieties and bad memories surged hard, colliding with the new, equally powerful thrill at causing Dave’s pleasure.

Stop. Be brave.

Olivia caught her breath. She could do this. This was Dave. She loved him. She was choosing to pleasure him. With him, she was safe.

Keeping to her mantra, ignoring his tight grip and her rattling nerves, and trusting Dave, she touched kisses along the sensitive line, lower and lower.

As if realizing her anxiety, he dropped his hands away, knotting them in the bedding as he arched his hips with a groan of pure pleasure. “Oh yeah, there, Livie, real good.”

She tried firmer nibbling kisses back up and light tastes with her tongue. This wasn’t so bad at all.

Be bold.

His encouraging, lusty noises helped greatly, as did his not grabbing her head or hair. Resolved, she lowered her mouth over him.

“Oh, sweetheart, that’s good. More. Nice like that. Wrap your hand around me at the same time and it’ll be better. Grip hard like before. Stroke, yeah, there, as you take me in. That’s so good. Perfect.” More tumbled, hearty encouragement, groans, and sighs guided her, letting her focus on finding confidence and a rhythm. His whole body joined in, rocking and rising in abandon without overpowering her.

At his next moan, a vibrant hot rush and delight at bringing him this pleasure swept through her. Her whole being throbbed with happiness. So, with Dave, this could be good for her too.

R.J. had said, “I love you,” but had only given disrespect and condescension. Dave hadn’t said the words, but showed love in every look, caress, and breath. Much remained uncertain, but with Dave she’d never felt more free and alive. She would trust the promise in his actions.

****

Dave was in sensual heaven, heat filling his veins, every muscle tensing, his release gathering under the hot sucking glide of her mouth, the delicate lapping strokes of her tongue. However, despite the intense pleasure of her mouth, he didn’t want to come like this, not this time. He needed Livie face to face, to kiss her as he buried himself deep within her warmth, and to look in her loving eyes as she came apart.

“Babe, no more,” he gasped. He wrapped his hand around hers and gently pulled away. “I’m too close. Got to stop. Thank you. Awesome, just awesome. But I need to be in you. I need you.”

He sucked in heavy breaths, reining himself in until he’d reached some fragile control and his hands were steady enough to cover himself.

First dropping a kiss to her mouth, he stretched over her. Their eyes locked. “I’m going to make this right for you.” The realization that he meant more than sex this time resonated through his being.

As she opened and welcomed him in their slow joining, he took her mouth for another fervent kiss. The last hollows of his heart filled to overflowing.

After her sweet mouth had pushed him to the edge, he assumed he’d finish fast, but no, loving Livie only got better. They looked into each other’s eyes, drawing out the loving play until they were shaking from the powerful pleasure. Her eyes glazed, her sighs caught sharply, a low surprised sob leaving her as her body jolted slightly. How he loved holding her tight, loved being deep within her as her orgasm rippled through her body and nearly drove him over to his own.

“Aw, sweetheart, that’s so damn nice.”

She caught her breath and smiled, lush lips swollen from their kisses, her eyes alight. “Your turn.” She moved against him, taking him deeper, so beautiful to watch. Eye to eye, body to body and, yes, in this moment, even soul to soul didn’t seem too farfetched as measured blazed into urgent. He drove hard, relishing her soft strength, possessing her completely—or did she possess him?

Yes. This was more than just bodies in perfect rhythm, more than the age-old dance in bed.

“Come with me, Livie.” He slipped one hand between her thighs, stroking above where he entered her.

She gasped and trembled, fingers biting into his back, shaking her head. “Can’t, not again.” But her body was already obeying his hoarse urging and stroking fingertips and ignoring her doubt. That tense glow flamed into life in her face at his next thrust, her breath going rough with sweet little gasps and moans, and she reached along with him.

“More! Come on, honey.”

Her lovely brown eyes flew wide, never losing the lock of their gazes. Her climax gripped her, and she gripped him, convulsing around him with the sweetest cry.

“Yes, Livie!” he groaned, and he was undone, pulling her hard to him, shutting his eyes, lost in the consuming pleasure, lost in her.

They collapsed together against the pillows with groans and laughter and scattered kisses.

And then they were quiet and still. She snuggled against him with a sweet little mutter. He stroked her hair and pressed a kiss to her mouth. Warm sweaty skin against skin, her softness, the peace filling his mind and body…He never wanted to let go.

Only, along with the contentment, a wild counterpoint raced in his mind. Did he love her? What if he loved her and she loved him? What if he settled here, with her, forever? Made a family together?

His chest tightened, and he waited for the panic that once followed those ideas of love and permanence.

No panic. No rejection. Just ready, wired anticipation, like standing at the jumpdoor.

Yeah, this was serious.

“You want some coffee?” Dave parted from her with a sigh, caught in that odd readiness, the whole rightness of the morning and the unfolding future he no longer wanted to escape.

Livie stretched contentedly on the disarrayed bed. “My hero. I’d love some. It’s ready, just push the button. You can use the flowered cups in the china cabinet. Top shelf.”

“One coffee coming up.” He caressed her rear and, with a pat, slipped from the bed.

After starting the coffee maker and cleaning up, he faced the china cabinet and the fragile cups she’d requested. Couldn’t he have a simple mug?

Get over it. They make her happy. Show some couth, why don’t you? You’re not a gawky kid crashing around the house anymore.

The coffeemaker gurgled and hissed. Done.

He extracted two cups and saucers. The translucent porcelain felt as frail as eggshell in hands far more comfortable wielding a chainsaw.

Limping with full cups made things interesting, but he survived with only a couple small sloshes into the saucers.

Livie had curled into his spot. He drank in the sight of her, coffee forgotten.

Go for it. Remember that lecture you teased Nate with? Those three little words you gave him such a hard time over? Three short words and you could make all this right for Livie. Time to stop running away from your feelings.

He drew in a tense breath. “Your coffee’s ready.”

Livie smiled and sat up, the sheet demurely tucked over her breasts, and took her cup. She was perfect, the delicate cup just right in her hands.

She followed his gaze to the cup and traced her fingertip along the thin gold rim. “I love using these. My grandmother brought them from Italy. I’d spend weekends with her and we would sit and have biscotti and hot cocoa. She would tell stories from when she was a girl, having coffee with her Nonna.”

He joined her in bed, tucking her close, and took a welcome hit of sweet black coffee. Relaxation settled in. Too caught up in Livie as they’d tumbled into bed earlier, he hadn’t paid much notice to her bedroom. Cheerful morning light revealed the room was much like Livie, neat, elegant, and delicately feminine without being fussy. A room he wouldn’t mind waking in again and again.

Livie set aside her empty cup. “I’m in the mood for French toast this morning. Sound good to you?”

“Sounds great.”

“Excellent.” She kissed him and bounced out of bed to slip into the nightie she took from the hook on the door.

After retrieving his pants, he refilled their coffees. Livie set to gathering equipment and ingredients, her short nightie riding up as she worked, flashing glimpses of her bare bottom.

Dave drank his coffee and enjoyed the view. Today, life was good.

Of course, with Livie, French toast meant from scratch. Soon, tempting scents of vanilla, nutmeg, and frying sausage filled the kitchen and his stomach rumbled impatiently.

Livie laughed. “Do you like raspberries?”

“Yeah, they’re good.”

She spooned raspberry preserves into a small saucepan, and stirred in dribbles of orange juice until she reached a consistency she wanted. Even busy, Livie was a restful presence, nearly the same comfortable peace as he found when fishing.

“Here we are!” She set a rustic stoneware plate in front of him holding three sausage links and two thick, perfectly browned French toast slices drizzled with raspberry sauce. She set her own plate, took her seat, folded her hands and said a quick grace.

He tagged on an awkward “Amen” to hers, glad he’d used his manners and waited for her to sit.

“Enjoy!”

“Thanks. Never had jam on French toast before.” He took his first bite. Crisp, custardy, and delicious. “It’s great. Come on, eat.”

They ate in contented quiet. Second servings cooked and eaten, Livie sat back with the last of her coffee.

His own coffee finished, Dave stacked his dishes and headed for the sink. One step from the counter, his leg seized in pain and folded. He crashed against the cabinets, watching in horror as the stoneware plate, Livie’s prized coffee cup, and the saucer struck the tile floor and shattered.

Ah, shit!

“Hey, you okay?” Livie gripped his shoulders and steadied him.

“Cramp.” He gasped through gritted teeth, eyes watering. Damn, this was a charley horse on crack. He caught a breath and straightened. “Watch your feet.”

“You watch your feet. Hang on. I’ll get you a chair.” A moment later the chair nudged the back of his legs. “Here you go.”

Grateful and humiliated, he dropped onto the seat and gripped the whacked-out thigh muscle. “Sorry I killed your cup.”

She pulled a bag of spinach from the freezer. “Here. It was an accident. Don’t worry about the cup. Are you okay? What do you need?”

He pressed the icy package against the cramping muscle. “It’ll pass.” Stoneware and porcelain shards littered the floor. Shit. “I’m sorry, so sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She grabbed the dustpan and brush.

“No, it’s not. Watch your feet.”

Livie whirled, snapping the dustpan down on the counter, and planted her hands on her hips. “Would you listen to me? It’s. Okay. No. Big. Deal. Got it? It’s just a cup. Did you break it on purpose? No. Were you careless? No. It was an accident. Accidents happen. So chill, and stop apologizing. Stop apologizing for everything!”

She snatched up the larger plate chunks and dropped them in the wastebasket. With tense precise brush swipes, she swept up the shards.

The heavy plate had even chipped the floor tile. Shit.

She caught the last fragments with a damp paper towel. “There. Done.” She cocked a brow, channeling Jake’s no bullshit glare. “How’s the leg?”

The cramp had eased, leaving him with a sore leg and remorse. “Better.” He stood, trying to stretch out the strain.

Her eyes softened. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

“No problem. I’m s—”

Her exasperated brown stare stopped him. He handed over the spinach without a word and escaped into the living room. This was why leaving in the night was easier.

Livie finished clearing breakfast in prickly quiet and then joined him on the sofa, curling up on the opposite end. She clicked on the television to the classic movie channel, but stared without seeing at the black and white images flickering across the screen.

He needed to say something. “I wish I could make you promises. Tell you I know what I’m doing here.”

“I don’t need promises.”

The sadness in her voice wrenched his heart. No, Livie was the kind of woman who needed promises and needed them kept. Deserved to have them kept.

Sighing, he tugged her into his arms. “I’ve always been a day-to-day guy. Work hard, play hard. Never learned how to go slow. Truth is, I avoided relationships because I’d never be around. That way no one got hurt again. I loved the firefighting too much. I figured I’d either slow down eventually or die doing the job.”

She stroked his hand. “Who hurt you?”

Dave winced. She’d caught the again he’d let slip. “There was a girl…way back when I was young and dumb enough to think I could have a full-speed-ahead life and a full-time relationship. Tess was the lead singer in a band. They were real good. I’d play with them sometimes, off-season. We thought the music would keep us together. It didn’t. I was never around, she was always getting gigs and those late nights and road trips…She wanted me to quit the firefighting. The job terrified her, and she was always on my case to focus on the guitar. Damn it, I love the job, and I’m damn good at it and I make a difference—made, was, loved. Hell, all past tense now—I can’t do the job anymore. Too permanently messed up to even fight fire from the ground.”

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 talking?”

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.”