Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Olivia
“ T he courthouse was originally built in 1904 and renovated in 1975.”
It was Friday afternoon, and I’d been invited to tour the historic landmark with Fire Marshal Harrison and City Manager Bloom. Bloom was giving me a history lesson, while Harrison asked the technical questions.
“And there was no damage when the tornado came through?” I asked. I’d done my research on the EF4 tornado that blazed a mile-wide path through the three counties, covering nearly thirty-eight miles.
“None,” Bloom replied. “We were very fortunate. Four blocks north, and this building would’ve been destroyed.”
The massive structure covered an entire city block. The exterior was red masonry, and a massive copper dome housed the clock that chimed every hour. The interior had a high ceiling and wood-paneled walls, polished to a shine and reflecting the sunlight coming through from all four entrances. An ornate dual staircase led to the second- floor courtroom, with historic wooden pews and more wood panels.
“This old wooden interior is a tinderbox if a fire ever gets started in here,” I noted.
Harrison nodded in agreement, making a note on his ever-present clipboard.
“The records indicate that the sprinkler system was updated?” Harrison asked.
Bloom hesitated before saying, “Yes.”
Harrison stopped writing and looked at the city manager. “You don’t sound very positive about that.”
“Problem is, there’s a narrow passageway into the clock tower, and we’ve had trouble getting water to that area.”
“That’s why we have our brave men and women of the fire department.” Mayor Smith’s voice echoed off the marble floor. “You don’t need to worry, Cornelius. Chief Hawkins’s crews can handle any disaster.” The round mayor turned toward a slim bespectacled young man following him. The guy sported a press badge.
“Henry, meet Chief Hawkins. First lady fire chief we’ve ever had. Henry here is an intern for the newspaper, doing his first big article about the city government,” Smith bragged.
Henry’s face turned pink under the attention. “It’s nice to meet you. Chief Hawkins, I was hoping to meet with you to discuss any agendas you might have for the fire department.”
Timid, a little bit like a fish out of water, Henry offered me a surprisingly firm handshake.
I smiled at him. “My main agenda is to improve our equipment and safety gear.”
“Now, Chief…” Smith gave me his politician smile. The placating one that I hated, all the while looking at the men ar ound me with an expression of forgive her ignorance. “You know we try to do the best we can with the limited funds we have. But, by all means, feel free to update what you can within the current funding amount.”
Tension rippled through my shoulders. They’d spent all my money before I could even get started. I clenched my jaw to keep from spouting out all the ways the department’s budget had been mishandled previously.
“Fire Marshal Harrison, do you have any updates on the arson case?” Henry asked.
Harrison made another mark on his clipboard. “Nope.”
“Oh, come now. Give the boy a kernel of information,” Smith demanded. I wanted to step on that shiny polished boot of his and tell him to stuff it. He didn’t get to boss my staff around.
“Marshal Harrison’s investigation is ongoing and not for public record at this time.” I forced an icy current into my tone. Every time I was around the mayor, I could literally feel my blood pressure spiking.
Smith glared at me. Offended that I blatantly disobeyed his demand.
“Well, this is your notice to get prepared. I expect a public announcement next week. The citizens need to be aware of what’s happening in their community.”
Smith gave handshakes to the men, ignoring me as he ushered his young charge toward the staircase and presumably the historic courtroom.
“Thanks for the deflection, Chief. The mayor’s office has been pushing me on this case.”
“Why?” Bloom, who’d remained silent and out of the attention zone while the mayor had been busting my balls, asked.
“No idea, other than Smith’s push to be in the media spotlight. Small-town paper is one thing. But a story like this will bring the Atlanta news stations down and give him some camera time.”
I scoffed. “Why in the world does he want our crime in the spotlight?” More ridiculous posturing and grandstanding.
Bloom sighed. “I don’t understand why he thinks he’s the face of the city anyway. We have a media relations person for that.”
Harrison raised a brow. “Sounds like the mayor needs to take a step back and let people do their jobs.”
Bloom gave a half snort. “He’s just mad because he got out voted in hiring the chief. He wanted to give the job to someone else.”
Clarity was a beautiful thing. “Let me guess. His choice was a buddy of his.”
Bloom gave a singular nod. And just like that, I had my answers. I was fighting a losing battle with Smith because I wasn’t one of his good old boys.
From the courthouse, I dropped Bloom at city hall, and Harrison at headquarters. Finally alone, I rolled my shoulders, trying to shrug off the aggravation that was dealing with the mayor. I just had to keep my head down, keep working for the good of my department. With that in mind, I pointed the car toward Mac’s and planned for a girls’ night with my daughter.
Mac
I pulled up to the house on Saturday morning after running calls all night to find Olivia had parked in my normal spot, forcing me to pull into the yard or take a chance on blocking her in .
Why this irritated me, I couldn’t tell.
I expected Buster to run and greet me, then remembered he was probably holed up in bed with Rosie.
Damn traitor.
All I wanted was to go inside, grab a shower, and kick back on my couch with a good book for a little while. Then maybe I’d go work in the shop. I didn’t want to face Olivia and her sexy body. Or Rosie and her perky, sometimes-pesky teenage attitude. I didn’t want to talk about Taylor Swift or boys or fishing. I wanted some damn sleep.
I opened the truck door and landed in a puddle, mud kicking up my pants legs and seeping through my shoes.
Dammit.
I trudged up the porch, stomping my feet to shake off some of the mud.
The screen door squeaked as I pulled it open. I needed to fix that today.
I juggled my work bag and travel coffee cup to pull my keys free. They slipped out of my hand, and when I stooped to pick them up, coffee poured all over me.
“Son of a bitch.” My voice blasted the quiet of the morning.
Fuck, I was tired.
I managed to get inside without dropping or stepping in anything else and left everything by the front door.
From there, I headed straight to the couch. To hell with the shower. My joints gave a sigh of relief as I stretched out and pulled the blanket over me.
Somewhere in the swirl of a deep dream came quiet feminine voices, the jangle of Buster’s dog collar. I rolled over, pulling the blanket over my head to block out the light. The screen door squeaked, and then blessed silence. I sank into blissful sleep again .
The mouthwatering smell of bacon pulled me back from the depths of a dream where a certain curvy brunette lay spread on the deck of my boat, sunning herself.
The clink of utensils, followed by the sizzle of something hitting the pan sounded from my kitchen.
I stretched with a groan and got a nose full of doggy kisses in the process. I wiped my face with a hand and then gave my best boy a head scratch. “Hey, buddy.” God, my voice was scratchy.
I cleared my throat and sat up, blinking away sleep.
The house looked the same, but it felt… different. There were smells and sounds to replace the normal quiet solitude. I stood with a good, long stretch and followed my nose to the kitchen.
Rosie flipped something in a pan while Olivia supervised. Their bond was sweet. It was in the way they met each other’s gaze, with soft smiles and gentle shoulder bumps. A deep longing to be in the middle of that scene bloomed in my chest. I wanted to be on the receiving end of those sweet smiles, those soft touches.
I hated to interrupt but also didn’t need to stand there creeping on their sentimental moment. An image of standing on the edges of Thoren and Leah’s conversation about Mrs. O’Malley flashed in my head. Was I always going to be on the outside looking in? But this felt different. This felt like they were mine. And I was theirs, and we were sharing a life. What would it be like to have Rosie and Olivia chatting and making my house a home long term?
I needed to respect their intimacy and go back to the couch. Maybe pick up my book or find a show to watch.
But I couldn’t drag myself away. I was inexplicably drawn to these two, so instead of doing the right thing, I interrupted my house guests. “Morning. ”
They turned to me, and the happiness radiating from them sucked the breath from my lungs. I had the two most beautiful women in the world in my kitchen, and neither were truly mine.
Olivia’s expression fell as she took me in. I should probably wipe the scowl off my face.
Rosie broke the silence first with a giggle. “It’s noon, sleepyhead.” She rolled her eyes at Olivia. “And you thought I was bad.”
Olivia faked a smile and ruffled Rosie’s ponytail affectionately. “Those are ready to flip.” She turned to me. “Long night?”
I scratched the back of my head, wondering if she could see the balloon filling my chest. “Yeah. We ran thirteen calls from midnight to eight a.m.”
She nodded to the table, avoiding looking at me directly. “Well then, have a seat. Rosa Nell has prepared a treat for you.” Her smiles with Rosie had been as radiant as the sun shining through the windows, wrapping around my heart and replacing the thick sludge in my chest with something so light and sweet, I couldn’t dare to even think of it. Now that happiness was gone after one look at me. And all I wanted was to see it again.
So I sat.
Olivia brought me coffee, and Rosie served up a plate of the best-looking French toast I’d ever seen. My mouth watered. “This looks amazing, sweetheart.”
They both froze for half a second. And then fixed their own plates and joined me at the table.
“Not a bad brunch, is it, MacDaddy?” Rosie said around a mouthful.
The forkful of food I was shoveling into my face froze, suspended in mid-shovel .
“What did you call me?” All the blood drained from my head.
“MacDaddy.”
“You can’t call me that.” The words stuttered out.
“Rosie, you can’t call him that,” Olivia echoed.
“Sure I can. It’s who you are.” Rosie was the picture-perfect image of nonchalance, alternating between forkfuls of toast and bacon. “You’re Mac, and you’re my daddy.” This was said around a mouthful of bacon, and though her words were mumbled, they rang loud and clear. My fork landed on my plate, and I struggled to breathe. There was no way in hell this child could call me that. Now, her mom… yeah, I didn’t need to go there.
“Rosie, honey. I don’t know if Mac is ready for that just yet. You guys don’t really know each other that way yet,” Olivia said, her voice rigid as she tried to be the voice of reason. I couldn’t tell if she was mad or just had her guard up, but suddenly, between the stilted facial expressions and now the tone in her voice, it felt like she was wearing her ice-princess armor against me.
Rosie lifted a shoulder at her mother’s advice, still scarfing down food, oblivious to the riot she’d unleashed inside me and the tension brewing between me and Livvie. I kept my expression impassive but couldn’t manage to stop the tremble of my hand as I reached for a sip of coffee. I really could stand to add a shot of something stronger to this cup.
“It’s the truth, though. ’Sides, he already feels like more of my dad than that ass Tim ever did.”
I couldn’t stop the tug at the corner of my lips. My girl was always pushing her mother’s buttons.
My girl .
“Plus, Mac doesn’t mind, do you MacDaddy?” Rosie drew the words out, making the nickname sound ridiculous. But there was no way she could call me that; it sounded…wrong. All kinds of wrong.
I cleared my throat twice, trying to make an audible sound. “Rosie, kiddo.” I kept my voice gentle, because as much as the name made me uncomfortable, I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. It was ironic that I was feeling this sentimental and emotional, that I was even considering her feelings when any other time in my life, I’d just say what I needed to say. Regardless, she was an impressionable young woman, and I needed to handle her with care.
“Sweetheart,” she prompted.
“You can’t call me sweetheart, either.”
Rosie blushed, eyes dropping to her plate. “No, that’s what you call me.”
Now I was the one blushing, because I had and hadn’t even realized it at the time.
“Okay, time-out.” I lifted my hands in surrender. “Your mom is right. We need to chill on this a little.”
Rosie’s head flew up, wide, accusing eyes aimed at her mother. I’d heard all the warnings of teenage girls’ mood swings, but witnessing the switch from gentle, happy teenage girl to instant brat was shocking.
“But,” I continued, and her eyes darted back to me. Her brattiness quelled just a bit. “It’s also true that we have this weird… I don’t know, easy friendship starting.”
The words were lacking, and I knew it. I just couldn’t do more in the moment. It would open me up too much. Give away too much.
I still didn’t know how much Olivia was on board with this relationship thing, or what it would mean for us. And hadn’t it been just this morning that I’d been frustrated with having to share my space ?
“So, what does that mean?” Rosie prompted when I stayed silent a moment too long.
The longing in her voice pierced the last wall I’d built, the little bit of my heart that hadn’t been ripped out and trampled on years before.
“It means you’re my daughter. We’re spending time together. Getting to know each other. I’m here for you. And all you have to do is be a kid, and trust that whatever happens, all you have to do is be a kid. Your mom and I will take care of you. You don’t have to force labels or nicknames, or categorize what we are to each other.”
Rosie’s expression changed, confusion flittering across her pretty face as she sat back, absorbing my words. Olivia spun her mug on the table, peering at it as if it had all the answers to all the problems we faced.
I leaned back, allowing them both time to think. I looked around my kitchen, noting that towels I’d never seen before hung on the oven door. And a wooden plaque with the word Home stenciled in the center now sat in my kitchen window, next to a potted plant with dainty yellow flowers pointed toward the sun. In place of the old, worn coffee tin, there was a new container on the counter holding my spatulas and spoons.
All around my kitchen were little touches of them making my space nicer, homier.
They’d even cleaned up the mess I’d dumped at the front door when I got in.
“You guys went shopping for more than groceries this morning,” I said, that bubble of appreciation swelling in my chest again, making it hard to breathe.
Olivia sat straighter and seemed almost… embarrassed. “We wanted to do something nice as a thank-you for letting us stay here. ”
I’d been to their house and had seen what they’d started over with—next to nothing. What they’d done for me, when they still had so much to furnish in their own space, humbled me.
“It’s nice. Thank you.”
Rosie shared a long look with her mom, sharing some secret. I wanted to know all their secrets.
Olivia dragged her gaze away and focused on me again. “You’re welcome.” Her voice had lost that casual ease and was tense again. “It’s not much, but we appreciate you looking out for us.”
“So, does this mean I can’t call you MacDaddy?” Rosie clarified.
“Yes,” Olivia and I said in unison.
Rosie rolled her eyes and pushed to stand. “Y’all are no fun. All right, I’ll go with Mac, but I reserve the right to call you old man, or maybe even old fart, every once in a while.”
I chuckled because she was stubborn if she was anything, and that trait came straight from me.
I cleared the brunch mess while the girls went to drag in more bags. When they turned to make a second trip for even more, I wondered how much damage they could do in such a short period of time.
Then I whistled for Buster and headed to the shop.
An hour or more passed before a rustle at the door drew my attention. Olivia stood in shadow at the open door, her curves highlighted in the perfect way to make my mouth instantly dry. I didn’t know what it was about her—maybe it was my memories making this attraction to her that much more—but whatever it was had my pulse kicking up.
She strolled across the shop floor, her gaze roaming around the space, taking it all in.
I dropped the tool I’d been holding and grabbed a rag. Wiping my hands, I turned to face her.
“Sorry for the interruption,” she began, crossing her arms, that instant barrier forming as if she needed that protective wall to hide behind. “Rosie is enthralled with her YouTube videos, and I thought I might have a moment to chat with you privately.”
I gestured to a stool by the worktable. “Have a seat. What’s on your mind?”
Her gaze flittered around the space, landing briefly on the place where I did my woodworking, then the wood stove in the corner, before she straightened and drew her attention back to me.
She cleared her throat, and I almost felt sorry for her. She sat so stiffly, so ramrod straight, I could probably bounce a quarter off her shoulders. Whatever was on her mind must be really bothering her.
I drew a stool close to her and sat, my legs splayed wide on either side of her, and leaned my arm along the wood table behind her.
“Talk to me, Liv.”
Those gorgeous eyes that had drawn me in the moment we met held mine. She turned slightly, her hips brushing the inside of my thigh. I had to work to not lean closer.
Her hand rose to cup my cheek, fingers dancing across the hair at my temple. “This is a good look for you. Really suits the whole MacDaddy, silver-fox vibe.” She watched her fingers play, while I had a hell of a time trying to catch my breath at her touch.
“She cannot call me that.” You could, though. The thought reverberated in my brain, and I couldn’t let it go. I had to stop this train. Her eyes dropped to my mouth. And then she licked her lips. She was so close… I could lean just the slightest bit and kiss her.
As if my desire willed it, she moved just a fraction toward me.
And that was all it took.
My lips landed on hers. She spun fully into me and met me there. I was already halfway to the point of forgetting everything except this woman and her glorious mouth.
I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her close, but it wasn’t enough. I needed more. I stood, slipping my hands to her hips, and lifted her, setting her on the waist-high workbench. Stepping between her parted legs, I lost myself to her.
How long had it been since I’d felt anything close to this fire Liv and I shared?
Her fingers gripped my hair, tugging me where she wanted me. The table put her at the perfect height for me to grind into her, the hardest part of me pressing into the softest part of her. There was no time lost, no space between us, nothing but irritating clothes stopping me from absolutely burying myself in her.
My hand snaked up her neck, where I spread my fingers to feel her pulse while we kissed as though our lives depended on it. Like all the years lost to us meant nothing. She kissed me back with a fever that lit my soul on fire.
Open-mouthed, with dancing tongues and racing heartbeats.
With one hand, she cupped my head, pulling me into her as the other skated down my back like she, too, couldn’t get enough.
I was ready to take her right then and there. Damn the dirty shop, the sawdust, and the tools scattered around. None of it mattered. All that mattered was this moment, with this woman. It was so right. Her in my arms. Tasting her. Dry humping her in my workshop.
With a hand to my chest, she pushed me away, both of us breathing hard. That little niggle of doubt at her backing away sent me into a free fall. I didn’t want to fall. Didn’t want the crash that I knew would come.
But it was too late. I’d lost my heart the moment I laid eyes on her again.
I rested my forehead on hers and closed my eyes, sinking into this bliss. “Liv, what’s going on.”
“I don’t know what’s going on,” she whispered.
“But something is, isn’t it?”
She nodded.
“But is it a good thing?” I shouldn’t have kissed her like that. No good could come from us being together because, in the end, it would mean me having to give up my retirement or her having to quit her job. Or her leaving. “You’ve been kinda tense. And beyond the job thing, until just now, I’ve gotten the feeling that you didn’t want to be here. Is it so bad staying in my house?”
Something in those words must have struck a nerve because she stiffened in my arms and pushed me away.
“Besides the fact that I’m being threatened, the job thing is key, Mac.” She slipped down from her perch on the worktable and brushed off her pants, avoiding my gaze. “We both know that, because of our jobs, a relationship beyond co-parents can’t happen. Aside from that, yeah. I’m a lot stressed about all the other bullshit happening around me. Smith, this arsonist. Trying to make changes in the department on a shoestring budget. So yeah. I’m kinda tense.”
Old, ugly memories of another rejection surfaced with her words. Another woman who pushed me away, left me standing alone with my heart in my hands .
In a way, I was grateful for the rigid stance Olivia had. It’d make keeping the distance between us a little easier.
But no matter how hard I tried, she was under my skin, and I had to learn to deal with it for the sake of Rosie.
“Anyway, I came here to thank you for being so gentle with Rosie this morning. She’s trying really hard to please you.”
I sighed and let go of the repressed memories that tried to surface, of the confusing mix of frustration and heat that Olivia so easily fueled, and focused on my daughter. “I know. I probably came off as a jerk. I didn’t mean to. I’d been up all night and was exhausted when I came in.”
Olivia nodded her acceptance at my apology. “Understandable, and that’s what I told her.”
Her hand reached out toward my chest, pausing, hovering just near my heart. “You’re a good man, Mac Collins. And you already have her heart. I’m asking you to have a care with it.” Her fingers tapped lightly on my chest, punctuating her words, before sliding away.
It was all I could do to stand and watch her walk away, knowing she took the half of my heart that Rosie didn’t already hold with her.