Chapter 42
Chapter Forty-Two
Lucian: I’ve been betrayed.
By blood. By kin. By people I used to trust.
Olivia: Hi to you too!
Just watched Sarah try to intimidate a Shetland pony.
He sneezed in her direction, and she fell over.
I think that’s called justice.
Lucian: She gets that from your side of the family.
Meanwhile I’m stuck in the Hunger Games: Crawford Edition.
Olivia: Did the indoor games begin?
Lucian: Began. Exploded.
Imploded. Scottie is definitely cheating but no one knows how.
There are only so many ways anyone can roll four sixes in a row before the universe calls bullshit.
Olivia: She’s probably hiding loaded dice in that annoyingly perfect hair of hers.
Are you losing? Be honest.
Lucian: Emotionally?
Yes. On paper? Also yes.
Olivia: Aww. Poor baby.
Meanwhile, I’m at the stables supervising Sarah’s new playdate with a very smug horse named Buster.
Lucian: You ditched me for a horse?
Olivia: Technically I’m supervising.
It’s professional. Also, you said we didn’t have to do every single family event together.
Lucian: I meant that, like when people say, “You don’t have to get me anything for my birthday.” I didn’t think you’d actually escape.
Olivia: Escape is such a strong word.
During dinner, I heard all the horror stories about Sarah escaping the house and letting these adorable horses loose.
I decided that she needs a formal escort for these playdates.
And we’re having a lot of fun.
Lucian: Wait. You’re having fun there?
How much fun? Are you flirting with the horses behind my back?
Olivia: A lady never kisses and tells.
:horse: emoji :kiss: emoji
Lucian: Wow.
I lose one board game and you leave me for a stallion.
This is how it ends.
Olivia: He’s very charming and smells better than your brothers.
Also, your sister just texted me asking why I’m not playing and if I’ve “poisoned you yet.”
Lucian: Why would Scottie do that?
See, she’s cheating.
Olivia: So when is the famous Luna coming over?
Lucian: Hailey and Leif skipped the weekend.
Something about Luna being “too fussy” for long travel.
Olivia: Well that makes me sad, but I get it.
Lucian: Scottie’s accusing Killion of hiding cards in his sleeve.
Kaden is helping him—it’s always about that illogical twin connection.
This should be a reminder that when we have children we shouldn’t have twins.
It’s for the benefit of all the other children.
Olivia: Excuse me? Are you sniffing markers or something?
What children?
Lucian: Ours, baby.
Olivia: Who is this and what have you done to Lucian?
Lucian: Are you freaking out?
Olivia: Ya think?
Lucian: Fine we’ll talk about the children later.
However, you should be here making snarky commentary and distracting me with leg glances.
Olivia: I’m wearing jeans.
Zero leg is out.
Lucian: Still counts.
I miss you when you’re not glaring at me across the room.
Olivia: You’re being soft.
Is it the trauma of losing?
Lucian: No. It’s the trauma of not having you within whispering distance so I can threaten you with details about what I want to do to you later.
Olivia: I’m surrounded by horses, Lucian.
Behave.
Lucian: You’re the one who wore that sundress on the plane.
I’m just emotionally recovering.
Also, Papa just raised his wine glass and said, “To Olivia, the only one smart enough to flee.”
Olivia: Tell him I raise my carrot to him in solidarity.
Lucian: Come back soon?
Olivia: Soon. Sarah’s learning how to make friends and I’m rethinking all my career choices.
Can I be a horse vet now?
Lucian: You’d look hot in breeches.
Olivia: Stop.
Lucian: Can’t.
It’s your fault for looking like the opening scene of every movie about a woman who escapes to the country and accidentally falls in love with a grumpy ranch owner.
Olivia: Wait. Are you the grumpy ranch owner in this version?
Lucian: No. I’m the hot neighbor who steals your dog and makes you homemade lemonade while you’re fixing the fence.
Olivia: So what happens to the grumpy ranch owner?
Lucian: I don’t know, are you leaving me for him?
I thought we had something special.
Olivia: You’re doing it again.
Lucian: What am I doing now?
Olivia: Either you make up shit I can’t follow or .
. . you sext me. That’s your trend.
Lucian: You want me to sext you, baby?
Oliva: No, leave me alone.
This is why you’re losing.
You’re too distracted.
Lucian: Does this mean you’re coming back soon?
I need you by my side.
Olivia: Depends. Will there be cheating board games and suggestive glances?
Lucian: Yes. And maybe later .
. . a stable reunion.
Just us. You, me, and the hayloft.
Olivia: You had me up until hayloft.
Lucian: Fine. You, me, and the heated blanket in the guest cottage.
Better?
Olivia: There’s no such thing as a guest cottage in here.
Lucian: How about the ice rink.
Olivia: It’ll be freezing.
Lucian: You’re too picky, Doc.
First you begged for a guest room because you’re not sleeping with me while we’re at my parents.
As I said, we don’t need to sleep, we can just fuck all night.
But now, you don’t want to do it anywhere.
Olivia: Wow. Romantic.
Truly. Poetry.
Lucian: I’m just trying to create options.
I’m a solution-oriented man.
Olivia: Your solutions involve frostbite and no structural headboards.
Lucian: You don’t need a headboard when you’ve got enthusiasm.
Olivia: You need therapy.
Lucian: Probably. But in the meantime, I have charm and a very aggressive sex drive.
Olivia: See, that’s the energy that made Aspen say I should keep a taser on hand.
Lucian: I’m insulted.
I’m a very respectful man.
I asked if you wanted me to sext you.
Consent is key.
Olivia: You also asked while I was brushing hay out of my sweater.
Lucian: You in a hay-dusted sweater is now my Roman Empire.
Olivia: I swear if you say the word “milkmaid,” I’m blocking you.
Lucian: I would never.
You’re way too chaotic to be a milkmaid.
Olivia: Thank you?
Lucian: You’re more like the girl who burns the barn down because someone made eye contact with her before coffee.
Olivia: Accurate.
Lucian: It’s part of your appeal.
You’re unhinged in a sexy, emotionally unavailable way.
Olivia: Please print that on my gravestone.
Lucian: I will. Right under “Died trying to survive Crawford Family Game Night.”
Olivia: How’s morale over there, anyway?
Still losing?
Lucian: Scottie’s accusing Kade of dealing from the bottom of the deck.
They’re exhausting.
Olivia: And yet you still have the energy to flirt.
Incredible multitasking.
Lucian: It’s because I’m fueled by rage and the memory of your thighs.
Olivia: You need to be stopped.
Lucian: You’re not here.
That was your one job.
Olivia: Sorry, I’m busy with Buster.
He has better game than you.
Lucian: I bet Buster hasn’t memorized all your coffee orders.
Olivia: He offered me hay and silence.
Honestly? It was perfect.
Lucian: I can offer silence.
If you’re sitting on my face.
Olivia: Lucian.
Lucian: See?
That’s the tone. That’s the voice I need whispering in my ear when I lose to Scottie and need emotional support.
Olivia: You seriously need therapy.
Lucian: Sure, but I also need you.
In your jeans. Out of your jeans.
Sarcasm optional.
Olivia: What do I get out of this deal?
Lucian: Board game revenge.
Homemade brownies. Full control of the playlist during the flight home.
And maybe I’ll let you win once.
Olivia: Tempting.
Lucian: You haven’t even heard the best part.
I’ll carry your bags, compliment your weird slippers, and pretend I don’t get wildly turned on when you’re bossy in public.
Olivia: You’re the worst.
Lucian: That’s not what you said when I was licking your pretty cunt.
Olivia: I plead temporary weakness.
Lucian: You say weakness.
I say you looked so damn good unraveling under my mouth I nearly forgot my name.
Olivia: You’re delusional.
Lucian: I’m hard. There’s a difference.
Olivia: Lucian.
Lucian: Say it again.
That voice. That breathy little sound you make when I slip a hand under your waistband and tell you not to move.
Olivia: I’m still at the stables.
Lucian: And I’m still thinking about how fast I’d drop to my knees if you walked into my room right now.
Olivia: You’re impossible.
Lucian: I’m yours. That’s the difference.
Olivia: Don’t say that like it’s sweet.
Lucian: It’s not sweet.
It’s possessive. You’re mine.
Mine. I want you back in my bed tonight—panting, shaking, gripping the sheets while I make you forget anyone else exists.
Olivia: You keep talking like that, and I’ll drag you behind the barn.
Lucian: Say the word, Halston.
I’ll have you up against the wall, your thighs around my waist, begging for more.
Olivia: . . .
Lucian: What?
Cat got your tongue?
Or are you just imagining what I’ll do with mine?