This Thing Called Love (A Mirror Lake Novel) Page 15

  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 kno
w 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.

  CHAPTER 16

  Brad was a little out of breath by the time he’d climbed through the open window off the screened porch and took the stairs with unilateral purpose.

  Part of him wanted to find Olivia and wring her neck.

  But the rest of him wanted to stop wasting precious time. He wanted to claim her, kiss her senseless, and generally have his way with her until they were both too tired to mount an argument over anything except for who was going to make the morning-after omelet.

  And this time, he wasn’t taking no for an answer.

  In seconds he stood in the doorway of the big master bedroom. Musty, shut-up house smell abounded, making him want to throw up the sashes of all the double-hung windows. He took in the big fireplace, the rounded contours of the turret that someone more feminine would say would make a great sitting area.

  All thoughts fled as he saw Olivia sitting on the window seat, chin on her knees, looking out over their old hometown. Her fingers mindlessly stroked the ancient crushed velvet beneath her.

  “It’s that same purple color,” he said.

  She startled. Brad leaned against the door with his arms crossed, trying to look unaffected, but at that moment, in the dim light from the gathering night, she’d never looked so heart-stoppingly gorgeous. And it wasn’t just the old memories playing tricks on his mind, of her at eighteen in the flush of youth. It was the Olivia of the here-and-now, the one with all the openhearted love for his baby niece, all her determination and resolve, and her smart-assed-comeback self, that he wanted so desperately.

  “You mean mauve,” she said. “Plum. Violet. Victorians probably wouldn’t say purple.” She was rambling, a sure sign she was nervous. Discombobulated. Good, because he wanted her off balance, without her defenses, without the sarcastic barbs she traded so well. He wanted to wear her down for the truth.

  “How did you know—” she asked.

  “You were here? I saw you walk into the porch and thought I’d make sure you didn’t get stuck somewhere with your ass hanging out needing some help.” Before she could zing him back, he cut her off. “But don’t worry, from what I saw today, it’s still a great ass.”

  Brad grinned and sat down opposite her, running his hand over the soft, heavy material. He placed his hand carefully over her much smaller one. He gathered it up, its size and softness striking him in an elemental way. At the sudden contact, she looked up. Beneath her pensive expression, a tsunami of questions stirred.

  He ignored them. “I remember this velvet around your hair. You were lying there, your hair spread out, curls everywhere.” He had to stop, because the words caught in his throat.

  He reached over and touched her cheek, traced a line down her jaw with one finger. She shuddered. He wanted to ease her down slowly onto the soft cushion and start making some brand new memories. But first he had to clear the air. “Why did you really come storming over to talk to me today?”

  Olivia left the window seat and walked across the room to the fireplace. Her hand skimmed over the darkly varnished mantel. “You know how I feel about . . . about this house. It’s always been special to me.”

  Brad’s footsteps echoed on the wood floor. He stopped close behind her, so near he could smell her lemony fragrance.

  Nervously, she flattened her hand and pushed it across the polished wooden surface. As she slid her fingers across the fine old wood, they caught under the edge.

  She gasped. Her shoulders stiffened. She swallowed hard and turned around.

  Brad crossed the last step between them and wrapped an arm around her waist. But he didn’t hold or kiss her as she might have anticipated. He reached out his other hand to the mantel. His fingers covered hers, traced over hers, felt the rough jagged-tooth ridges of the old carving just under the right edge.

  “I forgot about this.”

  “So did I,” she whispered. “For a long time.”

  He smiled. “After all these years, it’s still there.” He couldn’t see it, but he remembered the words he’d carved himself. BRAD LOVES LIV 4 EVER.

  Her eyes teared. “I couldn’t stand the thought of you sharing this house with someone else. I thought I’d lost my chance with you forever. Erika’s fun and uncomplicated and spontaneous and I’m none of those things.”


  He cradled her cheek, looked deeply into her soft, brown eyes, finally filled with pure honesty. “She’s nothing to me. Nothing. I want you.”

  Olivia stood frozen in the dusky room, her eyes riveted on the man who stood before her, the concentrated intensity of his powerful stare blazing between them. I want you. She’s nothing to me. The simple truth flooded her heart and burst through the last remaining wall that held them apart. Her entire body quivered, her blood running hot and cold with need. She wanted him, had always wanted him, and nothing, nothing would stop them from being together now.

  Brad leaned toward her, effectively enclosing her between taut, lithe muscle and the hard edge of the wood. The brick of the fireplace scraped roughly against her palms as she clutched desperately for balance. He was too large, looming, all broad shoulders and big arms, his cologne enveloping her with its seductive richness.

  He branded her with his lips, sliding them over hers and invading her mouth with his tongue. Stroke after silky stroke reduced her to a molten, boneless heap. Her legs buckled, flimsy as rubber bands. She grasped at him to steady herself, fisting the crisp cotton of his shirt.

  He pushed her up against the wall, the hard length of him straining against her inner thigh. Her hips thrust against him and her tongue tangled with his, eager to meet all his demands with her own.

  “God, I missed you,” she choked out on a sob.

  Brad lifted his head, grasped her shoulders, and locked his gaze onto hers.

  Olivia stared, unable to think. Her arms tingled where his hands stroked her hot skin. She had never been so aroused. Why, oh why, had he stopped?

  He smiled against her mouth, hovered over it, teasing her lower lip between his teeth. “You’re worrying me. No quips? No zingers?”

  “No one has driven me more crazy, in a good and a bad way,” she managed.

  “That’s better. Now you’re back to being feisty.”

  In one swift movement, he pulled off his shirt and tossed it behind him, exposing hills and valleys of golden perfection.