Chapter 2
OLIVIA
“ O livia, I swear I had no idea that the thing would come with the batteries inside,” Chloe says through the phone the next day.
“It doesn’t have batteries that you change, Chloe. You charge it with a cable. It’s actually very high tech,” I calmly reply, sarcasm dripping from my voice.
I pause as I measure flour into a bowl.
I’m putting some of the baking tools to the test in her grandmother’s kitchen. Luckily for me, Mrs. Jackson invested quite a lot in refurbishing this part of the house, fitting it with one of those snazzy French ovens that bakes everything to perfection.
The scent of cinnamon and lemon zest fills my nostrils, bringing a subtle smile to my lips while I wait for the milk and butter to heat in a saucepan on the stove .
“Did you try it out?” Chloe asks.
“You’re lucky you’re not here, because if you were, I would whack you over the head with it!” I jokingly snap. “I haven’t been able to look at it since Leo so graciously handed it over.”
She bursts into laughter, and I know it’s all in good humor, so I join in.
“Seriously, though, read the reviews. They all gave it high praise.”
“I’m sure they did, but honestly, I’m still recovering from embarrassment. I can’t even look at the thing right now.” I pause and add baking powder to my dry ingredients. “Maybe later.”
“Fine,” she acquiesces. “So how’s everything?”
“I’m okay. I’m actually baking some cookies for the guys.”
“Aww, that’s sweet. They’ll definitely appreciate the gesture.”
“Did you know that they’re firemen?”
Chloe sighs in a dramatic fashion. “That adds an extra layer of hotness now, doesn’t it?”
“It sure does. Former military. Now firefighters and EMT’s.
We already know they’re handy around the house because your grandmother clearly adored them,” I reply.
“I came upon a box of her things in the attic full of photos taken with them, some from when they were on leave during their service. She even went to their decoration ceremony.”
“Sounds like they’re too good to be true.”
“Judging from personal experience, they probably are,” I mutter. “There’s got to be something rotten beneath the surface. ”
“Hey, not all men are Marcus. He was just a horrible glitch in the matrix, Olivia. He’s the unpleasant exception, not the rule.”
“How are things back in Devon?” I ask her.
“So far, so good,” Chloe says. “Quiet for now, but I’m sure Marcus will be back to ask me some follow-up questions.”
“He won’t stop until he finds me.”
“Well, he can suck a bag of dicks as far as I’m concerned.
You’re free of that man, and he doesn’t know where to find you.
As long as you keep a low profile, you’ll be fine.
My dad is looking into his tax returns as we speak, and my mom reached out to a lawyer friend in New York.
They’ll find a way to trip him up eventually. ”
I’m worried about anyone who tries to take Marcus down. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? He’s dangerous, Chloe. He’s connected, and he’s got an entire department protecting him.”
“Yeah, well, my parents are high-ranking in city hall,” Chloe replies. “They’ve dealt with this kind of crap before. Let’s not forget, my mom was a defense attorney before we moved to Devon.”
“I really hope they get what we need to end this. It’s been a nightmare.”
“You’re safe now. That’s all that matters.”
I should feel safe. Sometimes, I do, especially when I glance out the window and catch glimpses of my neighbors. There’s definitely something about them that gives me a sort of much-needed inner peace, which is why I’m baking them cookies.
“I’ve been reading the news out of Devon. There’s been a rise in drug-related deaths, hasn’t there?”
“It is getting worse. The cops keep saying they’re on top of it but?—”
“We both know they’re not,” I say, and exhale sharply.
“I wish I had better news,” Chloe says.
“Actually, I do have some good news. I was looking through the classifieds section in the Ember Ridge Tribune earlier, and it turns out that there’s a job opening at Melinda’s Diner in town. Didn’t you say that place has the best pecan pie in the county?”
“And the best loaded fries, too. You’d definitely enjoy working there. Miss Melinda is a very sweet woman. You should call them and see if the job is still available.”
“I already did. I have an interview the day after tomorrow.”
“Yay! Look at you, picking yourself up and rocking it!”
Picking myself up? Sure. There was no other way for me to go.
Rocking it? I’m not entirely sure about that.
There are nights I still cry myself to sleep.
I wake up sobbing and sweating bullets sometimes.
Once in a while, I take a look in the mirror and fail to recognize the woman looking back at me.
“It’s going to be okay,” Chloe says, as if she’s somehow able to pick up on my doubts before I can even voice them.
“It’s hard at first, and lonely as hell, but I’ve known you since we were kids, Olivia.
The stuff you went through, everything you managed to overcome…
I have all the faith in the world in you, babe. ”
“Thank you, Chloe. I appreciate it.”
As the sun sets, I step out of the house with a box of freshly baked cookies. They smell fantastic, and I feel pretty confident about what I’m going to do. It’s my opportunity to offer a genuine thank you and hopefully overshadow the previous debacles.
The sun sinks lower in the west, a melting red penny against the dark woodlands stretching beyond Ember Ridge. To the south, stony mountains rise on the horizon, keeping the entire area delightfully cool, even in the summer.
I walk over to Dax, Leo, and Beck’s place, admiring the honeysuckle that’s in full bloom. Their lights are on. They’re home, likely resting up from their twenty-four-hour shift.
I reach for the lion-shaped brass knocker, but the door opens unexpectedly before I have the chance to knock, and I damn near drop the cookie box. I manage not to fumble this third encounter, though, as Dax greets me with a surprised look in his gray-blue eyes.
“Olivia,” he says.
“Hi, Dax. I hope I’m not bothering you.”
“You? Never. Come on in,” he replies and takes a step back.
And just like that, I find myself on their turf. It’s a big house, two levels with an open floor plan. The walls, painted a soft off-white, are hung with framed photographs of the three men from their years in the Marines and as firefighters—many are official portraits of them in uniform.
“Thank you,” I say, and hand him the box. “I baked these. ”
Dax raises his eyebrows and stares at the box before he takes it. “For us?”
“It’s the least I could do given the alarm incident and, well, yesterday’s mess.”
“You really didn’t have to,” he replies, the hint of a smile testing the corners of his mouth. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“It kind of felt like I did. Please, take them. They’re baked with a lot of spirit and care,” I say. “It would mean a lot to me if you would accept them.”
I hear the clatter of pots and pans from the kitchen, then Leo’s and Beck’s voices overlapping. It sounds like they’re having a rather loud and heated conversation. Dax chuckles softly.
“Don’t worry about them. Every time they team up to cook dinner, it gets loud and messy as hell. The food’s great, but it takes nerves of steel to put up with both of them while they’re making it.”
“That means they’re passionate,” I giggle.
He motions to the living room. “Care for a drink?”
“Sure.”
No! Olivia, you dropped the cookies off. Turn around and go home. You promised you’d keep a low profile, and now you’re about to have drinks with your devastatingly handsome neighbors. It’s a terrible idea.
I follow Dax into the living room, rendered briefly speechless by the minimalist décor—neutral, earthy tones; simple, sturdy furniture; and a comfortable sprawling sectional nestled around a large round coffee table with a thick glass top. It’s welcoming, airy, and warm, but still masculine.
“These look fantastic,” Dax says as he sets the box on the table and opens it.
“One of my go-to recipes,” I reply, “Easy to whip up.”
“I can’t wait to try them,” he says. He heads over to the minibar, which is built into a massive bookshelf that covers the entire southern wall. “Are you a scotch girl?”
“How’d you guess?”
He gives me a long glance—the kind that doesn’t need words to convey everything he seems to have figured out about me. I feel naked under his gaze, left wanting for more than just a look, and the way that white tee hugs his massive torso only makes it harder for me to focus.
“You’ve got an edge about you,” he says.
I offer a slight nod. “Don’t we all?”
“Something tells me you’ve got a complicated history,” he adds as he proceeds to take out two tumblers and a bottle of twelve-year-old scotch, a high-end single malt, judging by the label. “You have your share of secrets, a spicy dark side.”
“Spicy dark side?” I chuckle nervously.
Dax comes over with the glasses and hands me one. As I take it, our fingers touch, and for the longest second, I feel as though our bodies are intricately, intensely connected. It’s a strange but powerful sensation.
“I’ve met my fair share of people over the years,” he says. The distance between us isn’t much, and the air thickens with every breath I take. I notice his chest rising and falling shallowly as well, and I know I’m not the only one feeling the electricity. “And you, Olivia. You’ve struck a nerve.”
“Oh?”
I wish I had something smarter to say, but it’s hard to concentrate while lost in the simmering blue heat of his eyes.
“You’ve got a spark, something that will cause one hell of a blaze if ignited,” he says, his voice deepening with each word.
“And you know plenty about fires, right?”
“Yours is the one I’d like to know more about,” he says.
I’m rendered speechless, breathless, mindless. I don’t know what it is about this man and his friends that has me reacting this way, but I’ve spent too many years refraining from what I truly wanted. I have my freedom back, and now my freedom has brought me here, to this place, to Dax.
“I have to admit, I’m curious what you think about that toy you assaulted my garden gnome with,” he adds.
Laughter erupts from my throat. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?
It was a gift from my best friend, okay?
I had no idea what it was until I took it out of the box.
I accidentally turned it on, and it startled me, so I threw it.
I’m sorry for putting your garden gnome through such a trauma, Dax. How’s he doing?”
“He’s recovering, the poor little guy,” he says this line with a faint smile. “He’s only slightly traumatized, but I think he’ll be alright. Me, on the other hand?—”
“You’re traumatized as well?”
“Yes, by the idea that you’d need a contraption to keep you satisfied when there are better, more natural options. ”
His implication is clear long before he lowers his head. My lips part swiftly, my body parting from my mind as I prepare for the contact. Dax kisses me—it’s short but incredibly intense—and I taste the scotch on the tip of his tongue.
A ragged moan escapes my throat.
He pulls back, the blue of his eyes darkening to gray. “That’s what I thought,” he whispers.
“What did you think?” I manage, my voice barely a whisper.
“That I wasn’t imagining any of it.”
He wasn’t, but I wasn’t exactly aware of it either. I’m surprised by my reaction, by my willingness to kiss someone who is basically a stranger. It befuddles me, and my first instinct is to recoil from it, to take a step back, to panic.
“I am so sorry,” I gasp and set the glass on the table, fearful I might drop it because my hand is trembling. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”
“You couldn’t have,” Dax calmly replies. “I initiated; you reciprocated.”
“Still, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, Olivia. I felt it, you felt it, too.”
“It’s not a good idea,” I blurt out.
At the same time, I hear Leo’s and Beck’s voices getting louder as they come out of the kitchen. My heart starts racing again as the panic sets in, cranking up my anxiety as I move farther away from Dax.
“Dax! Settle a dispute for us,” Leo calls out.
“Oh, God,” I mumble and step into the hallway .
I see them coming. They’re laughing, and Leo is wearing an apron—which somehow makes him look even hotter than he already is. There’s a smudge of flour on Beck’s cheek, just above his beard line. It’s sprinkled on his dark tee as well.
“Olivia!” Leo exclaims. “What brings you here?”
“I brought cookies,” I reply, then bolt out the front door like a madwoman.
I run as if I just got caught shoplifting and the security guy is hot on my heels. My pulse thuds in my ears by the time I’m safely back inside my house. I deadbolt the door, though against what, I’m not quite sure.