9. Chapter Eight
There was a large black camper van parked outside the boutique the next morning.
Curious, Ryker gave it a once-over and quickly determined it was in very rough shape. There were minor dents and scratches, and one of the side windows needed replacing. Something was leaking from the rear end and one headlight was broken.
Cupping his hands around his face, he peered into one of the side windows. The interior was partially finished. There was a narrow sleeping platform made from plywood in the back, a miniscule kitchen area along the side wall, hosting a single convection burner for cooking, and a small, dented refrigerator nestled between two lower cupboards. A bucket acted as a sink, and from what he could tell, it was cracked. The floor was only half tiled, and the walls were painted several different colors as if the owner had been comparing swatches and never decided on one.
Estes Park had its share of ‘van lifers’, people who traveled to warm places in the winter and cooler places in the summer while living in their decked-out, luxury vans. This pile of junk was barely suitable for an overnight camping trip in the backyard. It would take some work and a fair amount of cash to be functional. What the hell did Olive want with this thing?
His phone pinged with a notification, but Ryker left it in his pocket. He knew what the message was. He’d finally read the job offer email and sent a reply that he needed a couple of days to decide. Why the hell he didn’t accept the offer right away was a Goddamned mystery and now his time was up. They wanted his decision immediately, and the unopened voicemail from Denver pinging his phone was probably to that effect.
He was at war with himself over what to do. Getting out of Estes Park was all he’d been able to think about since going to fire school. The opportunity to do just that was staring him in the face, and he couldn’t commit.
If he was being honest with himself, everything he thought he wanted was turned on its head the day he helped rescue Olive. Until that moment, he’d been dead set on finishing fire training and getting the hell out of town. After that moment, nothing made sense.
He’d made his little problem a million times worse, hadn’t he? Kissing her, pressing her body against him yesterday, feeling her curves like they were made for his hands only made him more unsure of what he wanted.
And here he was at the boutique, about to torture himself even more.
The bell jingled above the door when he walked in. The boutique was empty of customers, the scent of fresh coffee thick in the air. His stomach flipped with anticipation as he scanned the room for Olive. Sleep had completely eluded him last night after memories of their make-out session replayed in his mind on repeat, which made him restless and tense.
He didn’t feel much better now.
“Olive?””
Catching a whiff of her vanilla scent, he followed it through the boutique to the staircase that led to her apartment. He found her on the fourth step from the bottom, her hips caught in a form-fitting orange skirt, a fluttery gray blouse with wide sleeves, and sandals with a ribbon that wrapped around her calves.
Fuck, she looked beautiful… and distracted.
Motionless, she stared at her phone, oblivious.
“Olive.”
Her brow furrowed as she scrolled her screen with her thumb. Concern pumped through him at the distraught expression on her face. This was the second time he’d witnessed her stuck to her phone like this, and whatever she was reading wasn’t good.
Ryker went up one step and lightly touched her forearm. “Hey.”
Eyes wide, she jerked away from him with a gasp. Her phone went flying, and her body tipped backward. Grabbing her with one hand, he somehow caught her phone with the other. She gripped his wrist and held on tighter as their eyes met.
“You scared the hell out of me!”
“I was trying not to.”
She ran a shaky hand over her hair. “I’m okay.”
He reluctantly let go of her. Alarm pounded in his chest at her distress. He couldn’t fix it if he didn’t know what was wrong and he wanted to fix it, more than anything.
“What’s going on?”
She looked down, but he lifted her chin. “Look at me. Olive, something’s wrong. Talk to me.”
“Where’s my phone?”
He wanted to press her but suspected she’d only shut down more if he did. She didn’t owe him anything and he didn’t have the right to dig into her business, but that didn’t stop the desire to fix what was wrong.
He glanced at the phone, catching one word in a text message. Bitch.
Olive grabbed the phone from his palm and slid it into her pocket. Who the hell was talking to her like that? Oh, hell no. He wanted a name, and he wanted it now.
“Please, don’t ask.”
Her soft voice settled over his rising fury. She realized he’d seen the text, but she expected him not to ask? Breathing hard, he clenched his hand into a fist. Grinding his jaw, he chose his words carefully. “You can talk to me, Olive.”
“Thank you.”
No, that wasn’t the response he wanted. She was still pushing him away, not trusting him.
“Olive—” He cupped the side of her face with his hand. She turned her head away, cheeks pink, eyes diverted.
“Let’s forget about it, ok?”
Three seconds of charged silence passed. He counted them, growing tenser with each tick, tick, tick. Her fingers ran over the back of his hand as she skirted past him on the stairs and looked at him over her shoulder. “Ready to settle the bet?”
Just like that, she shed her sadness and despair and acted like she had forgotten all about it.
He didn’t like it, but he’d follow her lead. “What’s my punishment?”
Collecting the coffee cup from her desk, she took a long drink before throwing it in the trash. “It’s not a punishment. I promise.”
He’d thought way too hard about what she might have in store for him, and every single guess ended the same way—with her clothes hitting the floor.
She moved to a glass case behind the counter. A camera and various lenses sat on top. Unlocking the case, she retrieved a long, narrow cardboard box and set it on top. Lifting the lid, she retrieved a stack of leather bracelets and splayed them on the counter. They looked rugged and purposefully worn, with copper, hand-stamped rivets along the center. Some sported beads and braided leather with buckle clasps.
”Congratulations. You’ve been chosen for my modeling project. Let me see your wrist.”
Eyeing her suspiciously, he moved his hands behind his back.
“Oh, come on, Ryker. Let me see your wrist.”
She looked much too pleased with herself as she plucked a bracelet from the group and turned it over in her slim fingers. “Cara designed this men’s line to represent the rustic beauty of Estes Park. Who better to model them than a local?”
“How exactly do I have to model these?”
The twinkle in her eye concerned him. “I’ll show you. Follow my lead.”
Olive brushed her hair back and straightened her shoulders. “Put your left hand on your hip like this so the bracelet is visible. Then turn your upper body slightly and thrust your other hip out, like this. You have to curve your lower back. Don’t be afraid to stick your butt out a little.”
She had to be kidding.
“I’m not doing that.”
Her eyebrows arched and he knew he wasn’t getting out of it. Holding back a growl, he put his hand on his left hip and tried to point his other hip forward. His hips rocked back and forth, then side to side. This was fucking ridiculous.
Olive took his hips in her hands and angled him the right way. If he wasn’t so mortified about the pose, he would have completely focused on her hands on him.
“That’s it.” Grabbing her camera, she motioned for him to put his hand behind his head. “That’s right, put your hand behind your head and look over your shoulder at me. Now, pout.”
“Pout?”
“Come on, stick that lower lip out the way you do every time you lose a bet. Work it, baby. You’re fabulous!”
“I don’t pout.”
What the hell was he doing? One arm up, the other behind his head, butt sticking out while he looked at her over his shoulder. He was never, ever making a bet with this woman again.
“You’re centerfold material!”
She snapped some photos before lowering the camera… and busted up laughing.
Ryker ran a hand over his chin. “Very funny. Erase those.”
“I didn’t take any. I swear. You should have seen yourself!”
“Olive, if the guys at the firehouse see those I’ll never live it down.”
She laughed so hard that it took a second before she could speak again. “You’re… never going to live it down! Trust me.”
He changed his mind. He was going to make another bet with her, one she couldn’t possibly win, and then it was gloves off. Payback would be so much fun.
“Can we get this over with?”
“Yes.” She wiped beneath her eyes and composed herself. “Let me see which bracelet will look the best on you so we can start with that.”
“I’m not posing again.”
She tried to hide a snicker and failed. Olive placed his palm in hers and put the bracelet next to his wrist, then chose another and did the same. Her fingers lightly curled around his hand and Ryker’s entire body came alive. Suddenly hyper-aware of her, his veins flooded with molten desire. Mirroring her, he embraced her hand and both of them tightened their grip. Their palms melded together so tightly that Ryker could feel the soft kiss of the pulse at her wrist. Maybe it was his… theirs.
This. This right here is what confused him so much. This is why he couldn’t decide to leave Estes Park or take the job offer. If he chose to stay, he’d never know what it was like to live somewhere shitty memories didn’t whisper all around him. If he left, he’d never know what might have been with Olive. She awakened something inside him he didn’t know existed. They’d caught themselves before things went too far yesterday, and yet he was ready to push the boundaries again.
Her hand relaxed and he forced himself to let her go. “We should get started.”
“I—I’ll get set up.”
Ryker jammed his hands in his jeans pockets and turned away, so he didn’t watch the sway of her ass as she left the room. She came back with props and arranged them on a table near the far windows. When she was done, a length of red and black wool flannel was draped over a foam pad with pinecones artfully scattered about, and a trio of beeswax candles flickering in the background.
“I’ll need you to get on your knees so you’re at the right height and place your arm on the flannel like this. There’s a foam wedge underneath to prop your wrist up a bit. I’ll take a few shots; it shouldn’t take long so you can get on with your day.”
His mouth was too dry for him to respond.
Olive turned to him with a bracelet. Instead of taking his hand again, she gestured for him to place his palm beside the set.
“Is it okay if I put this on you?”
Touch me, anytime, every time. Every minute of every damn day.
“Yes.”
She made quick work of fastening the bracelet, then stepped back and gestured to the floor.
“On your knees.”
He liked the sound of that. Dropping to one knee, he waited for her next instruction and realized her chest was in perfect alignment with his face. The little pearl buttons on the front of her white linen blouse shone in the light, and the fabric molded to her breasts, showing off the hint of a pink bra beneath.
“Okay, let’s get you arranged.”
She carefully rolled his sleeve back and fiddled with his arm placement and the props until she was satisfied. The click, click, click of her camera fired rapidly as she moved here and there, trying different angles, working with an efficiency that suggested she’d done this before.
”You”re a natural.” She lowered the camera and flipped through some of the images on the digital screen. “Wow, you look really good in these.”
He hitched a brow. “All you can see is half of my arm.”
”We might get more women buying these than men, honestly.”
“Why?”
“Women love men with strong, capable hands.”
Ryker stood. She looked up from the camera, watching him with big eyes as he turned the screen for a better look.
“I have other capable body parts, besides my hands.”
Her voice went breathy. “I’m very aware.”
“You are, huh?”
“Well… the other thing women love is a man with tattoos, which you have on your very strong back.”
He’d never tire of how her cheeks flushed when she was flustered.
“You liked what you saw when I took my shirt off at the festival.”
She scoffed. “Every man and woman at the ax cage liked what they saw.”
Lightly gripping the camera strap, he tugged her forward, so she stepped into him.
”I only care what you think.”
Her nostrils flared just a bit. ”Of course, I liked it.”
There weren’t many times in his adult life that he felt out of control. Olive tested that every time they were together, and the more time they spent together, the more out of control he felt. His body did what it wanted where she was concerned, and his heart had no intention of stopping him. Sliding the strap over her head, he set the camera down and slid a hand into the soft curls behind her head.
A rush of breath came from her lips. “Are you going to kiss me?”
“Do you want me to?”
“I never wanted you to stop yesterday.”
Ryker gripped her hips, picked her up, and set her on the counter. Her legs parted for him to move between them, her thighs embracing his hips as he cupped the back of her head and leaned into her.
“We can’t keep doing this.”
Her small hands wrapped around the back of his neck. “I know.”
A deep, primal growl came from his bear, the sound working through him and rumbling from his throat before he fisted her hair and crushed his lips to hers.