Chapter 5 Olivia
Olivia
The woman in front of me looked… sturdy.
That was the first word that came to my mind, but it didn’t do her justice.
She was tall -- the same height as me with my three-inch heels, which put her at about five foot ten – with a slim waist, leanly muscled arms, and thick thighs.
Her body would have looked almost masculine if not for the gentle curve of her hips or the generous breasts confined by what looked like a heavy-duty sports bra.
The jeans she was wearing hugged her legs without being too tight, a blue tank top with a work shirt over the top of it, and what my father would call ‘shit-kicking boots’.
Her dark brown hair was plaited into two neat braids along either side of her head and tucked under a Seattle Mariners cap, and when I stepped closer I could see an array of freckles across her nose and cheekbones.
It was her eyes that caught my attention though, some combination of brown and green and gold that seemed to shift with the light. When our hands touched, her eyes shifted rapidly, offering a window into her emotions and telling me that she felt the same thing that I did.
I couldn’t clearly define it. Attraction, sure. But it felt like more. Like the way it felt when you ran into a good friend you hadn’t seen in a while, a sense of comfort and happiness to be reunited. Except I’d never met this woman before in my life.
“You’re here for the community service program?” she asked, drawing my attention back to the present moment.
I reached into my purse and pulled out the papers the parole officer had given me. “Yes, here are my papers.”
She took them from me, scanning the contents with a frown, then released a deep sigh as she handed them back to me.
“I hope you don’t mind me saying this Livi, but you don’t look like the community service type.”
“It’s Olivia,” I correct automatically, though I didn’t mind the nickname.
Growing up as an heiress to one of Seattle’s dynasty families, few people dared to give me a nickname. Even my own family used my full name.
Sam stared at me, waiting for my response, and I quickly replayed the last few seconds of our conversation trying to catch up. It wasn’t like me to lose focus, but something about this woman made it hard to think. Oh yeah, she wanted to know why I was doing community service.
“Someone cheated on me,” I finally said, deciding to keep the story high level. “I got a little upset and took it out on their car, so they called the cops.”
I didn’t mention that the cheater was a man I’d been bullied into getting engaged to, and that he cheated on me with my cousin.
Or that my cousin was the person who called the cops on me, traitorous bitch.
Our family had pressured her and my ex to drop the charges, but the cops wanted to make an example of me.
Show the good people of Seattle that no one was above the law, even if they were from the wealthiest family in the city.
At least my lawyer had gotten my sentence down to two hundred hours community service. I was so not a jail person.
Sam looked at me with something like respect.
“Better the car than the guy I guess,” she said wryly. “Or woman.”
“Could be either,” I rushed to tell her. “I like both.”
I wasn’t sure why I wanted to out myself as bisexual to this woman I’d just met, but it felt important.
Sam nodded. “Okay, well we need to find you some work boots. What size shoe do you wear?”
I winced a little. “Nine.”
My mother had always bemoaned that my feet were ‘too big for a lady’. As if I could help that I wasn’t a perfect size six foot like hers.
“Nine is probably like a seven and a half in men. Barney!”
She bellowed the last word so loudly it made me jump. A middle aged guy came jogging over, giving me a once-over before turning his attention back to Sam.
“Yes boss lady?”
“We need to borrow some shoes for our helper today. Size seven and a half maybe. See if anyone has an extra pair to loan us.”
“Jose always has extra clothes in his truck, lemme see if he has anything. He’s got smaller feet.”
“You want me to borrow someone else’s shoes?” I asked in horror. I never even borrowed shoes from friends.
“Or leave for the day, your choice. I can’t let you in the house wearing those, it’s an OSHA violation.”
It was gross, but I couldn’t afford to leave so I needed to suck it up.
I needed a full eight hours today so I could finish my two hundred hours of community service within the five week period the judge had given me.
I was missing a lot of work for this, and I knew the vultures at the office would be circling.
They all thought I was just some dumb blonde nepo baby who didn’t know anything about running a corporation, despite my master’s in business administration and working at the company in some capacity since I was a kid.
They’d take any chance to show the board that I wasn’t the right person to take over when my father retired.
“Fine.”
A few minutes later a short but stocky Hispanic man came over with a pair of brown work boots.
“Here you go, Sam.”
“Thanks Jose, I appreciate it.”
She handed the boots to me.
“Change your shoes and take off all your jewelry. We don’t want you getting caught on a machine or anything. When you’re done, meet me inside. Don’t dawdle,” she ordered.
It was kind of hot.
Without another word, she strode away from me. I couldn’t help but stare at how good her muscular ass looked in those worn jeans.
My phone vibrated in my pocket, but when I reached for it, Sam called over her shoulder, “And no cell phones!”
I startled. How did she know?
I quickly stashed my jewelry and phone in my glove compartment, changed shoes, and locked up the car, then headed inside.
The property was a huge old Victorian that sat just outside a suburban neighborhood on what had to be a couple of acres.
With the private drive and expansive grounds, this would be a great property someday.
Right now, it just looked a little sad, with the yard overgrown and peeling paint and missing shingles on the house.
Inside the house it was controlled chaos. At least a dozen workers were scattered around, the sounds of hammers and saws filling the air.
“Livi.”
Sam directed me to join her with the crook of a finger, and I scurried over which was weird. Olivia Laurent didn’t scurry for anyone.
“Guys, this is Livi, she’s green so go easy on her. We’ll start her on pulling up the floors. Barney, she’s with you today, show her the ropes.”
Barney gave me a nod, his expression unreadable.
Sam turned back to me. “Listen to what Barney says and do what he tells you, Princess Livi.”
I winced a little at the unflattering nickname.
“And for God’s sake, stay out of trouble, please.”
Then she strode off, leaving me standing there awkwardly with several guys staring at me curiously.
“Come with me, we’ll find you some gloves. Wouldn’t want to mess up that pretty manicure of yours.”
I could tell by the condescension in his tone that he thought I’d be useless.
It just made me want to prove myself. Little did he know I’d been underestimated my whole life.
But the thing about me was that I hated to fail.
I didn’t fully understand what it meant to do home restoration, but I’d do my best to prove myself to these people, no matter what it took.
“I’m not worried about my nails,” I said firmly. “I’m here to work. Just tell me what to do.”
Something flashed in his eyes. Respect maybe.
A few hours later I was a sweaty mess. My white shirt was covered in dirt and God knows what else. My nails were ragged. My damp hair was sticking to the side of my face. And my body was aching.
I pressed my hands into my lower back, moaning and stretching my pelvis forward just as Sam walked by.
“Taking a break already, Princess Livi?”
“Just stretching.”
I sent her a smile that charmed everyone in my life, including the judge who agreed to give me community service after my arrest. It did nothing for Sam.
“When you’re done stretching, I need you to remove the wainscoting in here.”
At my blank look, she pointed to the decorative panels affixed to the bottom third of the wall. At least I assumed they’d been decorative at some point, right now they just added texture to the filthy walls.
“Sure boss, no problem.”
I had the sense that she was trying hard not to roll her eyes.
I picked up a hammer that someone had left on the floor, assuming that would be the most appropriate tool for removing wainscoting and swung it over my shoulder.
And lost my grip. The hammer went flying into the wall with a crash.
When I turned around, the hammer was stuck in the drywall, held up by the little claw part.
My hand flew to my mouth. “I’m so sorry!”
I rushed over to try to remove it, but a chunk of plaster came with it, leaving a large hole in the wall. Inside I could see what looked like bunched up newspapers.
“I can fix that,” I said, even though I had no idea how.
“How will you fix that hole in the hundred plus year plaster, Princess Livi? I’m curious.”
My eyes swung back to her.
“Um. I can look it up? Maybe there’s a video on YouTube?”
Sam burst out laughing, a real genuine laugh, the kind that moves through the entire body. It was the first time I’d seen her smile, and I was transfixed by the way it changed her face. It made her look younger, more carefree. Pretty.
She shook her head, still laughing. “Don’t worry, we were going to tear down those walls next.”
She picked up another tool from the nearby table. “Use the crowbar on the wainscoting though, just in case. Barney! Show her how to use a crowbar, will ya?”