27. Landon
Chapter 27
Landon
I glanced up at the lake house for the fifth time in as many minutes and frowned. Olivia still hadn’t emerged. After setting out platters of food and grabbing a snack for herself, she disappeared into the kitchen while the rest of us headed out to the beach. We were hanging out at her family’s lake house, eating food she’d prepared, but she wasn’t even here to enjoy it. That didn’t sit right with me.
“I’ll be right back,” I announced, but nobody was paying attention, not even JD. He was too busy trying to get Honey’s attention. I didn’t have any proof that there was something going on between them, but my gut told me there was more to them than just friendship.
I entered the kitchen and immediately spotted Olivia standing at the island. Her hands worked a ball of dough back and forth. Lost in her task, she didn’t notice my presence. It afforded me the opportunity to watch her, taking in the rhythmic way her hands pushed and folded the dough. Suddenly she winced and lifted her hand, shaking it out as a pained expression flashed across her features. Without hesitation, I went to her, stopping on the opposite side of the island. She lifted her head, and her surprised gaze locked with mine.
“Are you alright?” I asked, my brow knitted with concern as she rubbed at the delicate bones of her wrist.
“I’m fine. Old injury,” she said in explanation, then her eyes grew wide. I realized what she’d just revealed. It was the wrist that was injured the night of the accident, the night my brother pushed her to the ground. My teeth ground together, and I swallowed the guilt threatening to claw its way up my throat. All this time, I’d blamed her for the accident, but she was the one who’d been hurt by my brother’s actions, not the other way around.
“Let me help,” I said, my voice coming out strained. Without waiting for a reply, I sidled up next to her and waited for her instruction. She offered me a soft smile, a real one, that made her dimples appear.
“You have to wash your hands first.”
“Right,” I said and moved to the sink. After thoroughly scrubbing my hands, I returned to her side.
“Now you need an apron, so you don’t get flour all over yourself.” I eyed her skeptically, wondering if she was just screwing with me. She let out a soft giggle and opened a drawer next to the oven. The apron fell open as she gave it a little shake and handed it to me. I slipped it over my head and secured the ties at my back. Her lips twitched in amusement, but she didn’t comment.
Sliding a large ceramic bowl toward us, she lifted a towel from it and revealed another ball of dough.
“Punch it down,” she said, and my head snapped up. She was definitely screwing with me now.
“What?”
She chuckled at my disbelieving expression.
“You have to release the air so you can knead it,” she explained.
“Seriously?” I asked skeptically.
“Yes, seriously.”
“So … I just … punch it?” What kind of alternate reality was I living in where I needed to ask this question while baking?
“Just punch it,” she replied with an encouraging nod. “Gently,” she added, as though afraid I might punch straight through the bowl.
“Okay.” Taking a deep breath, I buried my fist into the center of the bowl.
“There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” I shot her a flat look even though the teasing lilt to her tone was inexplicably arousing. What the hell was wrong with me? The giggle that followed had me growing hard in my board shorts.
I angled my hips away from her as far as I could without looking suspicious while she instructed me on how to properly knead bread. She offered gentle corrections and words of praise in equal measure. The act was oddly relaxing. We stood side by side, kneading dough until we had four prepared loaves. She covered them again and placed them on the counter next to the oven to proof before returning to the island with a damp cloth.
“Thanks for your help. That always makes my wrist ache,” she said as she began to clean up the excess flour. Guilt and remorse swelled in my chest until I couldn’t stand the pressure anymore.
“I believe you,” I blurted out before I could think better of it. She blinked up at me in confusion. “About the night of the accident. I-I should’ve told you before, but I was still coming to terms with it. And I wanted to talk to Lyle to see what he’d say when I confronted him about it, but he won’t return my calls.” I was rambling now, and I needed to stop, but the words just kept coming. “But I know my brother. I’ve seen the way he’s lied and schemed over the years. There’s no doubt in my mind he’s been lying about this too.”
“Landon,” she said, her voice cracking. Relief shone in her eyes as she turned to face me fully. There was a streak of flour on her cheek. I didn’t think; I just acted. My hand lifted to her face, and I brushed away the white smudge, letting my fingers linger on her skin. It was warm and soft beneath my touch. Her breath hitched, and I dropped my gaze to her plump, pink lips remembering how sweet she tasted.
I wanted to lean in and taste them again, but I held back. It was wrong, wanting my brother’s ex the way I did. He would never forgive me if he found out.
My desire warred with my resolve. I should back away now and let the fire that sizzled between us burn out. Once this week was over, I would no longer be subjected to the scent of vanilla that always seemed to cling to her skin or her vibrant smiles that rivaled the sun. The bakery reno was nearly complete. Everything could go back to the way it was, and I could pretend that kiss never happened.
Who was I kidding? I could never forget the way she moaned into my mouth or the scrape of her nails against my scalp. I could live a hundred years, and I’d still remember the feel of her soft curves pressed against my body until I took my last breath.
I searched her gaze for any hesitation, but all I found was heat. The hint of gold rimming her irises turned molten as her tongue darted out to wet her lips. My fingers itched to grip her by the waist and pull her in close to me. If we crossed that line again, there was no going back.
The back door flew open, and voices filtered in through the hallway. I dropped my hand and took a step away from her as she grabbed her cloth and began scrubbing at the countertop. Honey, JD, Lucy, and Wade came into the kitchen a moment later.
“Hey! What are you two up to?” Honey asked when she saw us. Our guilty expressions surely gave away what we were just doing.
“Kneading bread,” I said at the same time Olivia replied, “Cleaning up.” Honey’s gaze bounced between us before a satisfied smirk curved one side of her mouth. “Sounds like fun .” Her eyebrow quirked with that last word. She wasn’t buying our story. “Anyway…” Honey continued, plopping onto one of the stools at the island and focusing her attention on Olivia. “We came to see if you needed any help. You’ve practically been stuck in this kitchen since we got here. You should be out there having fun.” Honey pouted dramatically, jutting out her bottom lip. Olivia rolled her eyes but covered her mouth to hide her snicker. “Let us help, so you can actually enjoy your evening too.
“Alright,” she agreed and delegated different tasks to all of us. Within ten minutes, we had everything ready and were headed back to the beach. Wade built a fire, and we gathered around it, sipping beer and watching as the sun sank lower in the horizon. Olivia went inside occasionally to check on the food, and I couldn’t tear my eyes from her each time she got up to walk away or when she returned. I tried not to be obvious as she came and went, but JD caught me on more than one occasion. His knowing smirk told me we would be discussing this later. I took a long drag of my beer, already dreading that conversation.