Chapter 9
Olivia
I wake up smiling and immediately realize that’s new for me. Below, the usual city noises I’m so used to rise between the buildings. The dress from last night hangs over a chair, sequins catching stray sunlight like proof that none of it was a dream. We kissed. We really kissed.
And the worst part? I liked it.
I roll onto my side, half expecting to hear him moving around the kitchen. James is probably dressed and put together. Meanwhile, I’m tangled in sheets and thoughts I shouldn’t be having about how warm and safe he felt when he held me.
I wonder about the comfort of the couch for a big tall cowboy like James.
He slept out there because he’s that kind of man.
He didn’t make any other advances last night.
Not because he didn’t want to … I saw the way he looked at me.
I felt the way he held me on that balcony.
No, he didn’t because he wanted to too much.
And maybe I did too. That’s the problem.
A soft knock at the door pulls me out of my thoughts.
“You awake?”
“I am,” I call back, voice muffled by the blanket.
“Coffee’s delivered” he says. “Figured you could use it.”
“You read minds now?”
“Just yours.”
The words land warm and dangerous, curling under my skin.
I pull myself up, knotting my robe tight before opening the door.
He’s standing there holding two cups from the café across the street, hat in hand with that lazy grin of his.
The morning light hits his shoulders just right, picking up the rough lines of his jaw and the edge of that black suede jacket.
“Morning,” he says, offering one.
“You braved the city this early?”
“Almost died three times crossing traffic. But the lady at the corner bakery said these would fix any regrets I might have.”
“She was right.” I take a sip. “You’ve already found your way to caffeine diplomacy.”
“Guess I’m adaptable,” he says.
He looks out the window, the skyline catching in his eyes. The contrast almost hurts. He’s a man built for wide horizons standing against a cage of glass and concrete. His reflection in the window looks out of place, like the city’s trying to borrow a little of his wild.
“Never seen anything like this. Pretty, but noisy.”
“That’s New York.”
“Doesn’t sound like it sleeps much.”
“It doesn’t,” I admit, setting my cup down. “That’s why people here drink too much coffee.”
He laughs softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “So, about last night …”
“Don’t,” I cut in. “It was heat of the moment.”
The lie tastes like cheap champagne and regret.
“Didn’t feel like just heat,” he says quietly.
“Doesn’t change anything,” I whisper.
But I can tell by the way he’s looking at me that it already has. Before I can respond, my phone buzzes across the counter. Caroline’s name lights up the screen.
“Great timing,” I mutter.
“You gonna answer it?”
“She’ll keep calling if I don’t.” I swipe the screen. “Hey, Caroline.”
“Liv! Thank God. You and your husband left too early. Mom’s still going on about that cowboy of yours. She does have some ‘concerns’, however.”
I glance at James, who raises an eyebrow. “Morning to you, too., Caroline.”
“You were the highlight of the evening, apparently. Dad even said you looked ‘surprisingly comfortable’ with him.”
“Did he?”
“Anyway,” Caroline continues, “Mom wants to know if you’re both coming to Christmas Eve dinner. She’s already planning place settings.”
“We’ll see,” I say, dodging the question.
“Oh, you’re so predictable,” she teases. “Try not to overthink it, Olivia. It’s the holidays and you need to make a show of it with family.”
When the call ends, I stare at the phone like it just said something blasphemous.
“Everything okay?” James asks.
“That depends. Do you count family meddling as normal?”
“Comes with the season.” He grins. “And the territory.”
“You don’t even know my family.”
“Don’t have to,” he says, sipping his coffee. “All families are the same at Christmas. Half love, half craziness.”
I huff a laugh, tension easing from my shoulders. “Yours ever drive you this crazy?”
“Olivia, when I met your family … I wasn’t surprised about how rich they are. I was surprised that you’re part of them?”
His words sort of shock me. “What do you mean, James?”
“Your personality … everything about you is so different from them. You’re better than them, Olivia.”
The words sink in deeper than I want to admit.
No one’s ever said something like that without a trace of irony or pity.
My throat goes tight, and I busy myself with my cup, pretending it’s just the steam making my eyes sting.
I know this is a complement, but it absolutely throws me off balance.
I need more coffee to process what he just said.
I look away, not trusting myself to answer.
He sets his empty cup down and reaches for his hat. “I’ll get out of your hair for a bit. You probably need time to deal with whatever that was.”
“You don’t have to go,” I say quickly.
“I know,” he replies, his smile quiet and sure. “But I figure you’ll miss me more if I do.”
When the door closes behind him, the tiny apartment feels big suddenly. I sink onto the couch, my robe twisted in my hands, and sip the coffee. I don’t know what I want … except maybe for him to come back.