Chapter 13 Olivia
OLIVIA
“No, not the chartreuse. Slate is my first choice, aubergine second.” My fingers glide across a square patch of suede. God, I love this part of my job. Color swatches, paint chips, and textures are my drug of choice. I could spend hours immersed in them.
On the other end of the line, Alfonso, one of my most dependable furniture suppliers, promises to do what he can.
“Al, I need you to come through for me. It’s a big order.” My tone softens as I pace. “I really need this.”
Footsteps pound up the stairs. I’m holed up in my office and don’t have a line of sight to the hallway or landing. Who the hell is in my house?
My spine stiffens.
“Al,” I whisper, “someone’s in my house.”
My grip on the phone tightens like a lifeline as I try to make as little noise as possible. “If I scream, hang up and call nine-one-one.”
I tiptoe toward my open office door to get a better view of the hallway, heart thudding in my ears. A head of familiar dark blond hair crests the landing, followed by Drew’s handsome face. A strangled laugh escapes me. Relief crashes over my shoulders.
“Mom?” He eyes me bent awkwardly around the doorframe.
“It’s Drew.” I sigh, my silliness dissipating. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Al expels a chuckle of relief, says goodbye, and ends the call.
My son hauls a giant suitcase and his hockey gear onto the landing. He’s done with school and came home for the summer a few weeks ago.
“Hey, honey.” I quirk a brow. “What’s with all the bags?”
Dropping everything with a thud, he crosses the hall and hugs me. “I’m staying here for the summer. That cool?”
“What? Of course.” I pull back. “But I thought you’d stick to the schedule, staying with your dad when Paige is there, then with me.”
He shrugs and lugs his bags into his room, and I follow, waiting patiently for more of an explanation.
Drew sits heavily on the bed, running a hand through his already-tousled hair. “This place is closer to work.”
“Your dad’s is three streets from here.” I cross my arms. “My place or his, there is no difference in distance to the site. Try again.”
Every summer during high school, Drew has worked for his Uncle John, Pete’s brother, who owns a construction company. It’s good money, plus he gets a tan and a daily workout. This will be his last summer at the site before he finds a position in a law firm and focuses on his career.
The pause is long, then his eyes narrow and lips purse as he looks away. “If it’s a problem, I’ll stay with Ken.”
“Never. This is your home. Always. But something’s up. Did something happen with your dad?”
If he won’t tell me, I’ll have to ask Pete—not that I’m eager to. Lately, I’ve been avoiding him as much as possible. He’s been finding every excuse to reach out—texting, calling, even emailing my work. Using the kids as a pretense.
Drew flops back onto his bed and shuts his eyes. “Let’s just say he knows I’m here and he’s fine with it.”
That’s all he’s giving me? I know my son; he’s chill to a fault. If he’s changing the plan, something rattled him, and Pete’s at the center of it.
“Okay.” I tap his sock-covered foot. “But if you ever want to talk, I’m here. Always.”
“Thanks, Mom.” He sits up again.
“Does Paige know?”
“Nah, I have to tell her. She’s gonna go all diva on me, I just know it.”
I chuckle, smoothing a hand over his head. “Yup, she most likely will. She won’t say this to you, but she’s missed you. She’s been looking forward to you coming home. It’s been a tough year for her.”
He studies me again, that protective glint in his eye. “Want me to talk to her?”
Despite being away at school, he has had a front-row seat to my difficulties with Paige. How could he not?
“No. We’re working through it. But she needs her big brother. To lean on. To argue with.” My wry smile causes him to laugh and nod in understanding.
“I’m heading to Jonah’s, then dinner at the Bow,” I continue. “If I’d known you’d be home, I would’ve gone grocery shopping or cooked.”
“I’ll meet you at the Bow.” He playfully pats his stomach.
“Perfect. Aunt Sin will be thrilled to see you.”
“Cool.” Drew crouches to open his suitcase as the doorbell rings.
“Can you grab that?” I point downstairs on my way out of his room. “I need to grab my stuff and I’ll be down in a sec.”
As I change, my brain buzzes with what-ifs. What went down between Pete and Drew? Everything seemed fine two weeks ago when Drew came back from school. In fact, Drew was adamant about sticking to the schedule with Paige so he could spend time with both of his parents. What changed?
“Mom.” Drew comes into my view as I descend the stairs.
“Coming. Who is it?”
My son steps aside, expression curious as he gives me a clear view to the door. My heart lurches.
Sam.
It’s Sam, wearing that smile, dimples and all, directed at me. Every inch of him is created to ruin me. He’s got a fair-sized bag in one hand.
I quickly glance over at Drew where he’s all eyes, scrutinizing my every move as he squares his shoulders.
“Sam.” I step closer, but not too close.
I want to hug him, kiss him, yet Drew is here. My son tracks my every move closely, and the safest bet is to keep my distance.
“Olivia, hi.” Sam’s gravelly voice sends shivers down my spine. “It’s good to see you.”
“Ah, you too.” Turning to my son, I force words from my mouth. “Drew, this is my friend Sam. Sam, this is my son, Drew.”
“We’ve met,” they say in unison.
Drew nears me as the rapid beating of my heart seems to double. “Mom, I’m going to unpack. I’ll see you later.” Taking my hand, he squeezes, glancing backward at Sam. “Nice to meet you, man.”
“You too, Drew.” Sam dons another panty-melting smile and tips his chin at Drew. The man is incapable of just a regular old smile.
Silently staring at each other, we wait for Drew to leave, waiting a few extra seconds to make sure he’s definitely upstairs.
“Hi.” My voice is breathy and small, my throat dry.
“Hey, how are you?” He steps forward, cupping my jaw and leaning in.
His lips brush mine and my body reacts like lightning striking water. Everything inside me crackles, pulsating. My toes curl and my stomach flips.
“Damn, I’ve been dreaming about kissing you since the hotel. The real thing is so much better.”
“S-Sam, what are you doing here?” That came out sharp and all wrong. Shit.
“I wanted to see you.” His laugh is warm, unbothered. “Figured I’d surprise you.”
“You should’ve called.”
“And ruin the surprise?”
“You can’t stay here.” Ah, there it is—foot, meet mouth.
My hands cover my face in embarrassment, and he tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
“Wasn’t planning on it. I have a hotel.” His easy tone calms me a bit as he carefully removes my hands so we’re staring at each other.
“Sorry, I’m messing this up. Drew’s here.”
He smiles, nodding. “You don’t owe me an explanation.”
We’re lost in each other’s eyes when the rhythm of heavy steps interrupts as if thunder is rolling through my house. Drew again. We both step back from each other but remain close.
I turn to face Drew as his feet hit the first floor. “I’m going to work out. If I skip it, Jonah will punish me with extra sets.”
Drew beams and it hits me. I already told him that before the doorbell rang. My cheeks heat.
“Can I come? I could use a workout and I’ve got my gear.” Sam holds up his leather duffle.
Drew’s now surveying both of us with curiosity and something close to enjoyment.
“Okay. Sam, you want something to drink before you go?” Drew turns toward the kitchen. “Water, maybe?”
The obnoxious grin on Drew’s face causes me to glare. What can I say now that Drew’s simply accepted Sam’s coming with me to Jonah’s?
“I’m good. But where can I change?” Sam opens his bag and fishes out running shoes, shorts, and a tank top.
I’m still frozen. Drew gestures toward the powder room. “Bathroom’s right there.”
Sam nods, rises to his full height, and strides into the room.
The click of the door snaps me out of my stupor. Drew stares at me with a lopsided grin, and if I wasn’t freaking out, I’d enjoy just how adorable he looks in this moment. Instead, I ignore him and grab my purse.
How am I supposed to just show up with Sam at Jonah’s? The idea sits heavy in my gut. One look at Sam and Jonah will swamp me with questions.
Drew already expects details the next time he gets me alone, and the only thing I know for sure is, I’m not ready to put words to this, to what I’m doing with Sam.
Our drive to Jonah’s is comfortable and easy, despite my jittery nerves. When we reach the front door, trepidation floods my body. Jonah’s eager to set me up with someone, and now, I’m bringing a man here.
As expected, Jonah lights up like a Christmas tree when he meets Sam. I bumble my way through introductions and how we met. Surprisingly, Jonah only beams and nods. Sin must have told him everything already. Traitor.
“So, Sam,”—Jonah leads the way into his gym—“what kind of workouts do you do when you’re not ruling a kitchen?”
Sam chuckles. “A bit of everything—running, swimming, cycling.”
Of course he does. What is he, the next Ironman?
Biting my lip to prevent myself from saying something sassy, I re-lace my shoes, head down, focused on calming my nerves. I wonder if pretending to be somewhere else will get me through my workout because this is going to be a whole new level of torture.
Jonah claps his hands twice to get our attention and plasters on his most devilish grin. “Great, to maximize our time, we’ll do some high-intensity interval training with short, intense bursts of exercise and active recovery.”
Without even thinking, I groan loudly and protest, “Jonah, we did that two days ago.”
I hate this routine and he knows it. Something tells me that’s why we’re doing it. Why not let Sam see me at my worst?
Jonah winks. “You’ll thank me later.”
Highly doubtful.
The hour is torture. Jonah’s ruthless, deliberately pushing me on the parts of my routine I hate and suck at. He leaves me wanting to inflict pain and wipe off his playful smile. So, nothing new.
Sam is encouraging. Maddeningly so. At times, I find myself resenting him too. He makes everything seem effortless. And somewhere during the routine, Sam whips off his shirt and the world tips upside down.
My feet forget how to move and I almost face-plant on the treadmill. In turn, my supposed trainer emits a deep belly laugh while helping me right myself on the death contraption. I don’t know why I ever thought he was my friend. He’s the devil incarnate.
From then on, I’m hopelessly distracted. I stumble through the rest of the routine, unable to successfully tear my eyes away from Sam’s sculpted back, defined arms, and lickable six-pack and damn, I nearly choke on my own saliva at his tattoos.
They’re eye-catching. In addition to the magnificent snake on his arm, the one on his left pec looks to be a cabbage, although it could also be a heart, and a few lines of black script run across the side of his rib cage.
Try as I might, I can’t make out the words.
Short of wrestling him to the ground, I’ll have to wait to find out what it says.
Still, as I admire him, that ache creeps in. The doubt and what could be excuses or real concerns. The distance. He’s a celebrity of a sort. We have different lifestyles. And let’s not forget, I’ve got baggage and teenagers.
What am I doing?
The easy banter and laughter between Jonah and Sam snap me out of my troublesome thoughts. They’re getting along well, both downing Gatorade and joking about something. Not only do they both make working out look as easy and effortless as sun-tanning, but they also share similar tastes.
By the time I return from showering, Jonah’s lounging, arms crossed, with a smug grin. “So, you and Sam?”
“Friends.”
He snorts. “Is that what we’re calling it?”
“We’re just…spending time together. Casual.”
“Casual.” His lips twitch. “So casual he flies here unannounced.”
“He said he was coming anyway.”
“Right.” He leans closer. “He’s thirty.” His flat delivery contradicts the twinkling mischief in his eyes and the smug smirk I want to wipe off his handsome face.
Grrr, he riles me like an annoying brother. What else did Jonah grill Sam about while I was showering?
“How do you know that?”
“We talked. He’s great.” He wipes down the machines.
I narrow my eyes. “What else did he tell you?”
“Relax. I like him.” He shrugs. “But if you’re going to date younger men, own it.”
“Jonah, shut up.”
His grin widens. “You’re going to the Bow, yeah? I’m coming.”
“Sure.” I smile and his brows rise to his hairline, most likely expecting an argument from me. “Let me text Sin and Drew to let them know we’re on our way.”
“Cool. Just waiting on Millie so I can tell her she can go home.”
Millie is Jonah’s personal chef and painfully shy. Just then she walks in and only seconds later, a freshly showered Sam enters the room.
Jonah introduces them, and uncharacteristically, Millie’s smile is pure sunshine. Jonah’s jaw tightens as Millie gushes about Sam. Clearly, she’s a fan as she should be since she too is a chef.
“Millie, we’re going out, so I won’t need dinner tonight. Thank you,” Jonah interjects the first chance he gets.
She whirls to face him, blushing like a young schoolgirl caught ogling her teacher.
“Oh, okay.” Her voice is almost a whisper with a hint of disappointment.
I seize the opportunity. “Millie, would you like to join us for dinner?”
She hesitates, but Sam flashes his easy, genuine smile. “We’d love that.”
Jonah glares at me.
Payback.
On the drive, Sam and Millie dive deep into culinary talk—laughing, swapping stories, trading chef war wounds like old friends. In the front seat, Jonah mumbles something about me being careful what I wish for, but I barely register it.
Because I’m listening to Sam.
Not just the words, but the way he speaks—animated, open, relaxed in a way that tells me this isn’t performance. This is him. And I get to see it.
There’s no jealousy. No insecurity. Just a quiet thrill that he came all this way…and still fits so naturally in my world.
Jonah leans over, eyebrow raised. “Still happy you invited her?”
I smile, eyes on Sam in the rearview mirror. “More than ever.”