CHAPTER 3
Asher
I t’s a goddamn miracle Olivia Sutton makes it through each day alive. She’s the most oblivious to danger and accident-prone woman I’ve ever met in my life. So much so I’ve privately dubbed her Oblivia.
The call to her house came in right at the end of a double shift where I just left a family of four, including two toddlers, at the local hospital after they flipped their minivan to avoid crashing into a deer.
There are days since I began my firefighting career on Staten Island a decade ago, and especially since taking over in Laurel Creek as battalion chief, that this job shows me horrors.
And those horrors are hard to forget. Today was one of those days. Made even worse by Oblivia’s antics.
Something to trip over? She’ll find it. A bar fight breaks out? She’ll be caught in the middle. Any chaos and Olivia is always there. She’s like a moth to a goddamn flame. And yet, I couldn’t fucking get to her fast enough tonight.
My radio continues to sound as I cruise through the quiet streets of Laurel Creek in my truck. Olivia sits beside me in the front seat as the sound of soft country music fills the space.
Before tonight, I hadn’t seen Olivia for over a week.
I know she’s been away because she hasn’t been at her clothing boutique downtown in days.
I know because watching her, making sure she’s safe and hasn’t accidentally fallen asleep on a train track, has become a bit of a shameless ritual for me since I met her. One that fucking pisses me off.
Because I’ve never watched any woman before.
I’ve tried to figure out why, but I can’t.
She just compels me. Outwardly, Olivia is an illusion.
Always wearing a smile, even though I know it hides hurt.
I know that there’s a truer version of Olivia behind the sunshine mask, and learning what makes her tick has become a habit I can’t fucking break.
Those deep blue eyes both haunt and tether me.
I’ve told myself it’s because she needs watching over, and because watching people from the shadows is second nature to me.
I was trained to watch by my father since I was very young.
And I’m good at it. So good that locating people and keeping eyes on them became my job in my past life.
Shit is hard to let go of, especially when watching Olivia means I could potentially keep her from choking to death or getting kidnapped on her way home from work. Or, in tonight’s case, burning to death.
Keeping my gaze trained to the dark road ahead, I push away the thought that she could have been another set of screams added to my haunting memories. Instead, as Olivia’s eyes flutter closed from exhaustion beside me, I think back to the first time I met her.
“Are you fucking trying to die?” I ask, scowling down at the woman who just about offered herself up as a sacrifice to the old gray truck passing us now.
Zach Bryan blares out its open windows as she turns to look at it.
It takes her about two seconds to realize she was almost a redheaded pancake, then she straightens out and looks up at me, big blue eyes peeking out from under copper bangs.
She’s clearly terrified of me—an inked, leather-clad, unfamiliar man.
I can see her fear, but another emotion also lingers there. Intrigue maybe?
“I-I would’ve seen it before I crossed.” Her sweet voice is tinged with a hint of attitude.
“Aye. Doubtful. You were oblivious,” I counter, letting go of her soft arm, noticing the way my tight grip marked her pale skin. She rubs at it with the back of her hand.
It wasn’t the gold necklace dipping lower into her cleavage, or those full hips that lead to a round, plump ass barely covered by her little white sundress, bouncing perfectly as she walked.
It wasn’t her small waist and full tits or her smooth, shiny-looking hair tied back with a silk scarf that caught my attention.
It was that I couldn’t figure her the fuck out.
This woman was a blend of way too much confidence with way too little self-awareness, about to step right out into traffic, texting on her phone, like all the traffic would stop for her.
I let my eyes move to her face now, taking in her features.
I knew she was pretty as soon as I saw her.
But close up, the details of how pretty are breathtaking.
There’s a dusting of freckles across her nose that I imagine gets darker with the sun.
Her lips are full and luscious, glossed in candy apple red, and thick black lashes frame big ocean-colored eyes.
Her smooth skin contrasts perfectly with thick copper hair, the color of which I can tell is one hundred percent natural. I suppose that explains the sass.
She straightens out her dress and looks up at me quizzically.
“You’re new here? Tourist?”
“What makes you think that?” I ask, surprisingly invested in her response. Talking with a stranger is rarely something I’m interested in.
“That isn’t exactly a Kentucky accent. And … everyone knows everyone in Laurel Creek. Though I don’t know you.”
Her tone is sharp, but the way she looks at me? The way those blue eyes heat for just a second? She’s judging my appearance, and if
I didn’t know any better, I’d say she likes it. I stare her down, my eyes drifting to the paper cup she’s holding. Olivia is scrawled on it in Sharpie. I allow myself to breathe her in for a beat, inhaling her scent of cinnamon and sugar. It’s fucking mouthwatering.
She backs up slightly and I let my gaze drift to her throat. Pink creeps up her pale skin and she swallows, licking her lips. The sight causes blood to rush to my cock. Christ, what is wrong with me?
Turning, I toss a “remember to look both ways before you cross the street” at her as I pop my sunglasses back on and head toward the realty offices down the street.
“Hey!” Olivia calls out from behind me. “In case you’re staying for any length of time, men around here don’t just grab women they don’t know like that. Even if they are trying to be heroic!”
I turn to face her and, walking backward, give her the two-finger salute. “Noted. I’m here to stay. But, next time, I’ll just let you walk out into traffic, Liv.” I turn back toward my destination, not waiting for her response.
“How did you—” She pauses, until the realization dawns on her that her name is on the cup. I’m already pulling open the door to the realty office when I hear her call out from behind me, “It’s Olivia. ”
My radio buzzes on the dash now, pulling my attention back to the present.
“LCFD Green back at base.” The voice is Walker Black’s, my captain, arriving back from Olivia’s house.
“I’m not far behind,” I add quickly, casting a glance to the woman beside me.
I know she’s close with her parents—I’ve seen them at her shop multiple times—so I wonder why she didn’t want to call them.
Finding out from Nash when I first moved to Laurel Creek that she was adopted only made me more curious about her.
Where she came from, how she ended up with Ken and Lynn Sutton.
It only took a small amount of digging to find out her birth parents died in a car accident when she was four.
Ken and Lynn were in their early forties, Lynn a distant cousin, but they didn’t hesitate to take her in, and they made it official the following year. They seem like really good people.
Olivia stirs beside me but doesn’t wake up. Her movement only serves to push her sugary scent through my truck, only tonight it isn’t quite right. It’s mixed with smoke, which kind of makes her smell a little like me.
She’s still wrapped in the thermal blanket, her eyes closed in the dark as I drive.
A thin pink tank top with flowers on it clings to her, and the matching shorts barely cover her full, perky ass.
Soot marks her pretty tear-stained face, and her feet are still in her ridiculous cow slippers, even though I grabbed her sandals.
As the lights from Silver Pines Ranch come into view, her eyes shoot open, filling with a hint of fear that sends a thrill through me.
“So hot …” she whispers, her words slurring. Somehow, she still manages to look fucking sinful even in this decrepit state.
Her nipples are hardened to points as she shrugs off the blanket. Then she looks down. No bra.
A hint of pink travels up her neck as she folds her arms over her chest. The fabric of her pajama top is so thin, I wonder if she’d blush even deeper if I wrapped my lips around one of those pebbled little buds and sucked it into my mouth.
I wonder if she’d soak through those silk shorts for me if I touched her in all the right places. I wonder if she’d beg me—
“Thank you for thinking of this,” she offers as I turn my gaze back to the gravel driveway of Silver Pines, pushing Olivia’s perfect curves from my mind. Fuck, I need to get it together. I’m supposed to be getting her to a safe space, not fantasizing about her.
I pull up to the cabin my friend Wade Ashby directed me to bring Olivia to. His mother, Jolene, stands on the porch. But I can’t get out of my fucking truck yet, because after letting my thoughts run wild, I’m still half hard beside this oblivious little minx.
“Oh God, I feel nauseous,” she groans, cracking the door for fresh air.
This fucking night just keeps getting better and better.