Picture Perfect (Butler Island) (26 page)

Oh, God! Stay strong—stand your
ground!
“Thanks
for breakfast. Can’t think of a better way to start the day than with fresh doughnuts
and coffee. Makes me miss home.”

“Home?”

“New Orleans”, she said as she
smiled. “The first thing I’m gonna do when I get back is head to Café Du Monde
and order myself a chicory coffee and
two
beignets!” She said as she
gestured with her fingers.

She watched as he drew in a deep
breath and slowly exhaled through his mouth. “Um, I’m should probably get back
to the house; I’ve got a lot of work to do in the darkroom today.”

Grant searched
her face. She was holding back.

 But
why?

 He wanted to push until she revealed
the reasons behind her sudden about-face, wanted to shake her until the walls
she’d erected crumbled to the ground. But what good would that do? She’d only
shove him further away and he refused to let that happen. He loved her. If she
needed space, he’d give it to her.

 But he refused to give up.

He’d managed to stay in control until
he pulled into the driveway of her home, and then his restraint failed him.
Shoving his truck into park, he leaned over the console and palmed the side of
her face, drawing her in for a kiss.

The moment she felt his lips against
her
mouth, her will dissolved. His kiss
comforted, quieting
her doubts, easing her fears. She gave in at first,
reacquainting her tongue with his taste. Her hands roamed over his hard chest,
past his broad shoulders, before finally fisting in his hair. She still wanted
him—all of him—for the rest of her life. She wanted to cling to this man for
all of eternity.

She wanted what she couldn’t have…

She tasted like coffee, fresh citrus,
and desire. He wanted to reel her back in, needed her to remember how
incredible they were together. He put everything he had into their kiss, hoping
to communicate how important she’d become in his life. And how necessary she
was to his existence.

A soft needy moan escaped from the
back of her throat as she surrendered. He savored the sound as it reverberated
through his body. And as if suddenly realizing that the sensual sigh had come
from her, she stiffened in his arms and tried to pull away.

“Grant—”

He allowed her to unseal their
mouths, but he didn’t release her completely. Resting his forehead against
hers, he asked the questions that’d been plaguing him for days. “Damn it,
Livvy, what the hell is going on? Why are you so determined to shove me away?”

“I’m not pushing you away—”

Releasing her, he leaned back in the
driver’s seat and after expelling a puff of air from his lungs, he pinched the
bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. His jaw was clenched tightly, so much
so that he feared his teeth would shatter. “So going on a date with Jarrod
isn’t pushing me away?”

“It was
just
dinner—”

“—It was a date…” With the back of
his head still resting on the seat, he turned his head toward her. “When did
you decide we were gonna start seeing other people?”

Olivia wrapped her arms around her
body, enveloping herself in as much comfort as she could conjure up. “Since
when did you decide that we were exclusive?” she countered.

“Gee, Livvy, I don’t know—I guess it
was right before you were attacked when you practically begged me to fuck you!
That sound about right?” he asked angrily. “You set the pace, remember?”

Moisture stung the back of her eyes,
but she refused to reveal how deeply his words and surly tone affected her.
Lowering her head, she clenched them shut. “I’m… I’m sorry you misunderstood,
Grant. You’ve been a really good friend to me and—”

“—Friend?”
he
interjected. “Is that all I am to you?—just a
friend?”

God, no! You’re so much more—you’re
everything…

 
Could she do this? Could she
really do this? — walk away from this man with no regrets?

You have no choice
.
“I’m so
sorry, Grant. I honestly never meant to hurt you.”

“Yeah”, he uttered softly.

It was a tragedy to walk away from
what they’d shared, but it would be far worse months from now when he’d likely
leave her.

Olivia opened the door to his truck
and forced herself to take one final look at the man she wanted, but couldn’t
have. She’d dealt the final blow; mauled his heart. She needed to get to her
room quickly; the levee was moments away from bursting and gravity would soon
take hold of her tears.

A series of soft knocks temporarily
suspended the implosion of self-pity and guilt she’d suffered since she’d
exited Grant’s truck earlier that morning. Olivia wiped at her eyes with her
fingertips, expunging the vertical path of her tears, and then quickly shoved
her personal portfolio underneath her pillow.

“Come in.”

Ty lazily opened the door. “Hey
squirt”, he greeted as he joined her on the edge of the bed.

“Hey”, she answered softly.

Leaning forward, he stared straight
ahead. There was no doubt about it: she’d been crying. Sure, she’d wiped her
tears before he entered, but she couldn’t hide the red tint of her eyes or the
swollen shadowy skin surrounding them.

 The discovery pummeled his heart. He
couldn’t remember her ever crying—not even when
their parents had died. She’d always kept her emotions
hidden
from view, under lock and key; their sudden liberation was monumental.

“Last night with Jarrod… that was a
little…
unexpected.”

“Jesus, Joseph and Mary, you sound
just like Grant! It was
just dinner,
okay?”

“Okay… Can I ask you one more
question, though? Why are you crying? Did Grant hurt you?—is that it? Were you
using Jarrod for revenge?”

“That’s more than one question”, she
teased.

“Alright, let’s start with the first
one then…”

Olivia covered her mouth with one of
her hands, desperately trying to withhold the despair threatening to flee.
Heavy tears rained down her cheeks as her fortitude faltered. “No. Grant’s
been… he’s been amazing. He didn’t hurt me, Ty—
I hurt him…”

“Wow, that’s definitely a first!
Don’t think anyone’s done that before. He’s usually the heartbreaker.”

“Yeah”, she whispered. Wiping at her
eyes again, she stood from the bed. “What’s done is done… If you need me, I’ll
be in my darkroom.”

Ty wiped his hand down his face as
she drifted toward the door. Damn it, he didn’t know which was worse: thinking
that she never cried or witnessing it firsthand.

The latter—most definitely the
latter!

Glancing around the room, his eyes
landed on a dark object wedged underneath her pillow: her personal portfolio.
He hadn’t seen it in years. The leather covering was worn around the edges, indicating
it’d gotten a lot of use over the years.

Opening it was the closest thing to
time travel he’d ever experienced. Suddenly, he was propelled back in time,
eighteen years ago. He’d never forget that dreaded phone call, or the brave
face Olivia had exhibited when he’d arrived hours later. That was the first
pivotal moment in her young life, but it certainly wasn’t the last.

As he thumbed through the pages, he
relived each moment. Not all were bad—there were good moments, too. Her
thirteenth birthday: he’d survived a slumber party with eight of her childhood
friends—and the shaving cream fight that materialized at the stroke of
midnight. Her senior year: crowned Miss Winterfest. Early 2008: her first cover
at Adversity Magazine…

Each moment—good and bad—molded her
into the person she was today. She was a survivor, a crusader. Sometimes he
envied her bravery, her courage. Hell, his wife had left him with a Dear John
letter and a broken heart months ago; divorce papers arrived back in October
and he still lacked the strength to sign on the dotted line.

 
Why?

 
Because he wasn’t brave—not
like Olivia. He’d been in denial for so long he’d become complacent with his heartache,
idle—

“Holy shit”, he mumbled as he turned
to the last page. Olivia’s feelings for Grant were far more serious than she’d
let on and the discovery of this picture was proof.

CHAPTER 21

“Say somethin’ ”, Olivia prodded. She
stared at her best friend for several moments, Kendall’s wide eyes and slack
jaw indicating she’d taken her by
surprise.
But the real clincher: she’d rendered Kendall
speechless. That was
certainly a first.

“Kendall…?
Are you
still with me?”

“I’m your best friend”, she began.

“Yes.”

“And you know I love you to pieces.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And you know that I will always tell
you the truth—no matter how awful it may be.”

“Yes, I’m—”

“What kind of dope have you been
smokin’?
Grant
Womack is head-over-heels in love with you! Get your head out of your ass so
you can see what’s right in front of you!—or in this case”, she whispered as
she cupped her hands around her mouth, “what’s behind you.”

Olivia glanced over her shoulder as
Grant trekked toward the pool tables along the back wall of the saloon. It
didn’t appear as though he’d noticed her. At least that’s what she attempted to
convince herself. It hurt far too much to think he’d purposely avoided her.

Yeah, like you’ve managed to do
countless times.

Turning around, she shrugged her
shoulders. “I have no control over his feelings, but I do have
control over mine. I don’t wanna lead him on. He’s
a good guy; soon he’ll realize I did us both a huge favor.”

“This must be my lucky day”, Jarrod
said as he
approached the varnished wood
bar. “The two prettiest females in town, sitting together. Santa must’ve
thought I was a good boy this year!”

“Flattering will get you everywhere,
Jarrod”, Kendall affirmed.

“So will a drink. How ‘bout it?—what
can I get you ladies?”

“Nothing for me”, Kendall announced
as she finished the last of her gin and tonic. “I have to be at the pharmacy
early in the morning.”

“Okay—what about you, Olivia…?”

Torture: that’s what this was, Grant
acknowledged. Mutilate him, waterboard him—hell, hook his ass up to a car battery
and zap him—anything was better than this. He’d noticed Olivia the moment he’d
arrived. She’d been sitting at the bar with Kendall, recounting her date with
Jarrod no doubt. He ignored the way she looked in her faded jeans; ignored how
she’d tied her flannel shirt in a knot at her narrow waist; ignored how she
pursed her plump lips together when she took a pull from her imported beer.

Yeah, you ignored her alright…

Okay, so maybe his eyes revisited the
bar from time to time. Was that so terrible?

No, at least not at first. It only
became a real problem when Jarrod arrived. He’d turned on that charismatic
charm and the next thing Grant knew, Kendall was heading out the door, leaving
the town’s hottest new couple alone for a second date!

“Alright, Womack, how much are we
wagering this round?” Randall asked as he placed the billiard balls inside the
triangle on the pool table.

“Forty.”

“Forty?
C’mon, man—I’ve got debts to pay! Make it seventy-five and I’ll let you
break.”

“Debts to
pay?—to who?” he asked as he turned
his attention back to Randall. “You
inherited your house and your truck’s been paid-off for months.”

“It’s nothing serious—I just owe a
buddy of mine some cash.”

Grant picked up the small cube of
chalk and twisted it back and forth over the tip of his cue stick and then
placed it on the side of the billiard table. “You’re not in any kind of
trouble, are you?”

“No—but you’re ‘bout to be if you
don’t hurry up with the break shot”, Randall teased.

Olivia closed one of her eyes and
focused on the dartboard in front of her. It didn’t help; she still saw two of
them.

“Anyone ever tell you how cute you
look when you’re trying to concentrate?” Jarrod asked.

“Is that your subtle way of
distracting me? The board’s a little fuzzy, but I can still make it out!”

Jarrod shook his head and smiled.
“Here, let me help”, he offered as he slid off the wooden stool.