8. Lucas
LUCAS
“ W here do you live, Lucas?”
In the short time we’d spent together, I’d learned Olivia wasn’t great with long stretches of silence. Today, driving to our first vendor meeting to look at materials was no different, it seemed.
I couldn’t explain why I didn’t want to share this with her, just that I could feel the reservations bubbling up the moment she asked the question.
Maybe it was the nagging feeling she could read the subtext of my answer too well.
The truth seemed too close for comfort with this woman I’d already crossed so many boundaries with.
She dressed casually today for our visit to the stone supplier. In faded jeans that hugged her figure like she’d had some sort of denim tailor make them from scratch. A plain white tee, brown leather loafers, and an irritatingly adorable bandana tied in her hair finished her ensemble.
She looked like a cross between a fifties pin up and a PTA mom and I hated how much I loved it .
She stared at me expectantly, and I left out a resigned sigh. Why couldn’t I say no to her?
“I live in Evergreen Hills.”
Evergreen Hills was a development we built about three years ago when we finished up the lake houses.
It was our first large-scale project and garnered us a lot of attention in the industry.
We’d worked hard to diverge from the typical housing development structure, but it still featured only about four different types of houses.
Through careful planning and execution, we were able to make the homes feel unique.
We built them specifically to look like older structures; placed on plots in a more irregular pattern than a standard development, with quantities kept low.
The yards contained big, old trees that we’d taken great care to work around so we could maintain the forest-like charm of the area. It’d been a costly gamble, but we’d sold every home except for the ones Adrian and I kept for ourselves.
The project had become an example of a housing development that worked with the land and maintained a level of integrity many builders overlooked so they could turn the highest profit possible.
Industry news featured the project locally and even nationwide, so I figured Olivia would be familiar and didn’t elaborate.
“You live… in Evergreen Hills.”
“Yes.” I kept my eyes on the road and focused on the wildly inappropriate bumper stickers of the red sedan in front of us.
“The development.”
“Yes. ”
“But you build custom homes for a living. Those houses are beautiful, especially for a development, but your office building has more character. Why haven’t you built your own home? Or restored something?”
I wracked my brain for an answer that would both satisfy her and allow me to get out of this conversation without revealing too much. While I worked out exactly what to tell her, she stared at me with wide eyes and her mouth slightly open. That wasn’t helping.
“When I create a home like that, it will be where I stay forever. I’m not ready to do it yet.”
If I create a home like that, it will be with someone I’m going to spend my life with.
I stole a quick glance at her, trying to gauge her reaction and see if I’d satiated her curiosity or if she could read my thoughts. She was already staring at the side of my head and when I turned, we locked eyes.
There must have been something in my expression that made her decide to drop it because she turned to look out the windshield and asked, “How much further is the stone supplier?”
“About five more minutes.” I replied, glad she wasn’t pressing the issue.
We sat for long moments in a pregnant silence. It seemed like we both knew the reason I wasn’t ready to build a forever home yet was dangerous territory.
Olivia’s phone buzzing sent a wave of relief through me. Thank god, something to break this tension. But Olivia didn’t look relieved. She looked anxious.
“It’s my mother,” she said in a voice just above a whisper .
“Take it. I don’t mind.”
Catching her lip between her teeth, she pressed a button on her phone and raised it to her ear. I couldn’t hear what her mother was saying, but I could see Olivia’s face. Distress was the only way to describe her expression. She interjected a meek “okay” a few times, but was largely quiet.
Did something happen to her mom?
I made a sound to get her attention. “Angel, do you need help?”
The placating smile she responded with made my stomach sink. Her mouth pulled tight and her eyes went soft as her head shook slightly from side to side. She wasn’t upset about her mother. She was being upset by her mother.
“Put it on speakerphone.”
Olivia’s brows crashed down in confusion and she mouthed, “Why?”
“Just do it,” I said, voice stern. I knew she would respond to an authoritative tone and I wanted to hear what was upsetting her.
With a deep sigh, she pressed a button on her phone and the car flooded with the sound of her mother’s voice.
“—planning to have a masseuse onsite. Who ever heard of such a thing? Expecting people to get naked at a home showing. Perhaps it will be strictly shoulder massages. In any case, it’s too important to miss, you understand.”
“Sure, Mom. I get it.”
“Right, well. I was going to send an email, but I’m driving and this seems easier. Have a good evening. Don’t wear anything too revealing to that event.”
What the fuck?
Olivia returned the sentiment to have a good evening, like she hadn’t even heard that final comment, and hung up. No love exchanged. No plans to talk again. Conversations with Helen were warmer.
“What was that about?” I asked.
“Nothing. She was just letting me know she can’t make it to something.”
“Make it to what?”
Her eyes flit around my truck, desperate for something to focus on other than this conversation.
“Uh, YouTube is holding a reception sort of thing for creators with more than two million subscribers. It’s nothing hugely formal or anything, but we were allowed to invite people. I didn’t really think she’d come, but I invited her anyway. It’s no big deal.”
My teeth ground together.
“That sounds like a big deal. Why can’t she go?”
Olivia sighed and turned her head away from me, which I hated.
“She’s a real estate agent. A rival agent is holding an open house and apparently offering a bunch of unconventional amenities. My mother needs to go and assess her competition.”
Stunned. Floored. Incensed. Pick one.
“What the fuck? How is that more important?”
I loved the sound of Olivia’s laugh, but the one that rang through the truck was possibly my new least favorite sound .
“Her career is her priority.” She turned to me with flattened features. “Look, can we talk about anything else? Or not talk. That would be fine.”
It would not be fine. At all. I couldn’t force her, though, and she was clearly uncomfortable.
“Sure. But just…” I hesitated. “One thing?”
She offered me another fake, socially required smile. I hated it. I wanted her real smiles.
“You are impressive. That event is impressive. And you are a grown woman. You should not let anyone speak to you like that. Fix it.”
Her eyes widened as her mouth popped open. It took a moment for her to shake the surprise, but when she did, she inhaled a large breath and gave me one sharp nod of her head. Then she turned back to the window, and that was that.
When we pulled up to the large industrial building, I breathed a sigh of relief. I was grateful for an activity to distract from the shit show of that drive. Hopping out of my truck, I inhaled a lung full of humid air to clear my head.
When I rounded the truck, I opened Olivia’s door and offered my hand so she could jump to the ground. I shouldn’t touch her, definitely not in my current state of mind, but I couldn’t resist the opportunity to grip her fingers and feel her hand enveloped in mine.
She tracked the movement as closely as I did, but we both cleared our throats simultaneously before turning to the building behind us. We fell into step easily as I relayed what details I had about the supplier we were meeting.
He wasn’t someone we’d worked with much, but he had a supply of stone Helen had fallen in love with after Olivia showed her a photo. Helen requested we inspect it in person and confirm it was as spectacular as she thought.
I opened the door to the building, letting Olivia enter first, then followed behind her. The place was one large warehouse with rows of pallets containing a variety of stone and other building material. There also looked to be a yard out back with additional product.
To the left was a glassed-in office with a handful of employees, one of whom headed our way. He appeared to be in his early forties, maybe even slightly younger, with trim brown hair and dark eyes that swallowed his pupil. Something about those eyes gave me pause.
He approached us with a professional smile that stretched straight across his face, but I noticed it curled a bit when his gaze landed on Olivia.
“Hi there. I’m Michael. How can I help you?”
Michael’s words were meant for both of us, but his eyes didn’t leave Olivia. And he wasn’t looking at her face. She didn’t seem to notice and offered her own greeting.
I wanted to stand in front of her to block his leering.
“Hi Michael! I’m Olivia and this is Lucas Alessi. I believe we spoke on the phone about a possible order for the Arnoult project we’re working on.”
“Ah, yes! You mentioned wanting to see it in person. I’m glad you stopped in.” He offered me his hand, which I took a little more firmly than usual because he still wasn’t looking at me. This guy had my hackles up. After shaking Olivia’s hand, he directed us down an aisle of materials.
“The product you’re interested in is right this way…” Mi chael droned on about the superior qualities of the stone while constantly toeing into Olivia’s personal space.