8. Leo
8
LEO
D amn, it’s cold. It’s not raining but the air is damp, making it feel colder. I pace in front of my favorite tree and blow into my hands to warm them up. I should’ve hit the gym to burn off some of the buzzing energy that’s been building since Olive went to her room. I tried to sleep for a little while before the party started, but my brain wouldn’t shut down. It swirled like cotton candy.
Olive should’ve found the champagne already. I was hoping she’d send me a text, but there’s been dead silence. Was it a bad idea? Now I feel like a complete idiot because I brought two flutes in case she comes with the bottle. I even brought a blanket to keep us warm if we sit on the bench.
How long should I wait for her? You made her wait a long time for her room. I glance at my watch again. Only five minutes to go. What if she can’t find the tree? No, that’s stupid. It’s huge and lit up like a beacon. Chill the fuck out!
Why did I change my plans for her tonight? What is it about Olive that compels me to be impulsive? She’s a stranger…but from the moment she arrived, I haven’t wanted her out of my sight. I imagine myself following Olive everywhere, tugging on her shirt for attention. I chuckle to myself.
Since my cousin Corey died, I really haven’t formed any meaningful connections with new people. Well, no, that’s not true. The couple throwing the party tonight are the only ones. They don’t know everything about my past, though. When I met them, their unparalleled love story sucked me in, and I adore their relationship.
It’s been a while since I’ve been genuinely interested in a woman beyond sex. The closest I ever came to love was with my high school girlfriend. That was a joke, since it fizzled out right after graduation. Nothing’s come close to it since.
But with Olive, somehow I feel a connection that’s…fucking indescribable. I’m not saying it’s love because that would be bullshit. Right? Then why does talking to her make my heart race, as if I’m being chased? And why does her intoxicating scent arouse me to the point I might embarrass myself? And why the hell do I feel like I’ll burst if I don’t see her tonight?
Because I’m borderline obsessed.
“Hi, Leo,” Olive says softly behind me.
She’s here! I stiffen from surprise and my pulse skyrockets, sending warm tingles to my icy fingers and toes. I turn around, unable to hide my excitement. Olive stands a few feet away from me with her arms behind her back. Her hair is pulled into a low side bun, and her lips are a glistening shade of pink.
“Hi! I’m really glad you came. You look beautiful.” My cheeks are going to hurt tomorrow from my wide perma grin.
“Thanks. You look handsome yourself,” she says, her eyes cast down. “It wasn’t a simple decision. My nerves were getting the best of me.”
I lower myself to encourage her to look at me. When she does, I ask with anticipation, “What changed your mind?”
“This.” She lifts the bottle of champagne in front of her. “I felt so special. Thank you, Leo. I knew you overheard some of the conversation with my mom. But I didn’t think I mentioned my birthday.”
“It was my pleasure. I hope you don’t think I was eavesdropping.”
“No. Not at all. I wasn’t very discreet. I’m sure you’ve heard worse things while on the job.”
I nod. “Unfortunately, yes.” We gaze at each other for a few seconds. Every exhale from us produces shimmering clouds that blend together and dance toward the sky. “Can I ask how old you are?”
She looks away like she’s embarrassed or something. “Thirty.”
“Really? The big three-oh!” I exclaim with more excitement in my voice than hers. “We definitely have to party then. Let’s pop this baby open. We can celebrate your big day for the next hour”—I check my watch—“no, fifty minutes. Then we can bring in the new year. How does that sound?”
“Pretty perfect, actually,” she replies, with a shaky voice. “And how old are you?”
“Thirty. Thirty-one in September.” I pick up the flutes from the bench. “Because I had high hopes that you’d show up, I brought these.”
“What, you don’t want to drink straight from the bottle?”
I raise an eyebrow, not sure if she’s being serious. “I’m game if you are. After our chat in the café, I think we’ve moved up a level. BFFs maybe?”
Olive purses her lips. “I don’t know. Do best friends share bottles? It might be too fast, and then we’ll be talking about dating, marriage and kids.” She grins, unwraps the foil from the cork with gloved hands, and shoves it in her pocket.
I’m loving this playful side. Do I bring it out of her? I’ll have to get used to her change of moods. She’s like a yo-yo, going up and down, up and down. “Yeah, we don’t want that, do we? But to be honest, I can’t stand when people share glasses, bottles, whatever.” I shiver. “You probably think I’m weird.”
“Nope. Not at all. It is pretty gross when you think about it…and I’ve seen some pretty disgusting things.” She stops, then quirks an eyebrow. “But what about kissing?”
“No problem there. That’s different. I want to kiss that person.”
She tilts her head, the bottle hanging from her hand. “So you wouldn’t share this bottle”—she raises it between us—“with me, even if you wanted to kiss me?”
“Uh…um.” My face heats up because kissing her has been on my mind since she arrived. Has she noticed? If I say I want to kiss her, will that turn her off? “This is the weirdest conversation I’ve ever had. Where are you going with this?”
“No idea. Forget I brought it up,” she mutters, her shoulders curling forward. I hope I didn’t upset her. She releases a long breath, then removes the muselet protecting the cork. “I’ve had the bottle sitting on ice. It should be cold enough by now.”
Great diversion. “Good thinking.”
Grunting because the cork won’t budge, she gives up and passes me the bottle. I hand her one flute and then the other when I have the bottle in my hands.
“You didn’t shake this before you got here, did you? I don’t want it to explode and cover us. It’s a little cold for that,” I joke.
“Now that we’re BFFs, you can trust me.” Her humor is back. She’s too damn adorable for her own good.
“Weirdly, I do trust you.” I twist the cork and it loosens. “Here we go.” I extend my arms and aim the bottle away from us. A loud pop follows, and the cork shoots out into the darkness. Condensation billows outward, but the golden liquid stays in the bottle.
Olive holds up the flutes, and I pour in the bubbly, careful not to overflow. I place the bottle on the corner of the bench, then lift my glass. “Happy birthday, Olive.”
Her soft gaze meets mine. “Thank you. It’s been a hell of a lot better than I expected, but somehow, exactly what I wished for.” Hearing that fills my chest with pride.
We clink the glasses and drink some. “I hope you like it. It’s a favorite here.”
Olive licks her lips, and I have to bite my tongue. She doesn’t have a fucking clue how sexy she is from that one movement alone.
“It’s crisp, and I love the fizz against my tongue.” Now I’m thinking about her tongue. It’s going to be a long night. “I’m a big champagne fan. Not that I drink it often. Not much to—” She stops and looks down at the grass.
I can guess what she was going to say. Not much to celebrate . Well, I’m going to make sure she does exactly that tonight, if it’s the last thing I do. I take another sip, then sit on the bench and pat the empty spot next to me. She sits down, but not too close. I nestle the bottle between us.
Olive looks up at the tree. “I love madrone trees. Especially their pretty rust-colored bark and that they have leaves year-round.”
“Me too. And now you know why it’s called Madrona Inn.”
“Is there a significance?”
“Someone planted this tree a long time ago. It’s a symbol of resilience, survival, and strength. This hotel is over a hundred years old. It really is resilient.” I snort. “And now I sound like a tour guide, reciting facts again.” I take a quick sip from my glass to shut myself up.
“Tour guides can be boring. You’re far from that. However, I am a tourist for the week. You’re just doing your job.” She plays with a button on her coat.
“Olive.” She glances at me, and I look directly into her eyes. They’re sparkling from the lanterns. “Sitting here with you has absolutely nothing to do with my job. I choose to be here. I want to be here. Okay?”
“Okay,” she says with relief in her voice. “Now tell me something else.”
“One more thing about this tree. When I was a kid, I’d sit on the grass underneath it. One day, I came out and this bench was here. After that, I figured it was meant for me because whenever I’d come out here to relax or think, it was always empty. Nobody would be in sight. And tonight it happened again. It’s such a busy night with people wandering around. Someone could’ve easily stolen our seats.”
“But they didn’t.”
“Nope.”
“Lucky for us. I can’t wait to explore the area this week.”
I stretch my arm along the bench, my hand slightly touching her back. She doesn’t move away. “Do you like to hike?”
She shifts to face me. “I used to love it.” Used to.
“There are some great trails here with spectacular views. Since it’s off season, you’ll be able to enjoy them more.”
“I should add hiking to my list of resolutions. You’ll have to tell me which trails are the best.”
Ask me to go with you and I’ll show you everything.
“Did you make a birthday list too?” I ask.
“Huh?” Her eyebrows furrow. “Haven’t thought about it. I guess the only thing I wish for is to be happy again.”
Olive doesn’t hide the fact that she’s been through something that shaped who she is today and brought her to Orcas Island. Unlike me, she’s an open book. I hide behind my personality. No one would believe the inner pain and struggles I carry around every day.
“When’s the last time you were happy? Like truly happy,” I ask.
The air suddenly shifts. Too deep, Leo.
“Other than arriving here? Years.” She gulps the rest of her drink.
“Broken heart?”
“I guess you could say that, but not in a romantic sense.” There’s a finality in her voice, and I won’t push it.
“Are you admitting you’re happy here?” I brush her shoulder with my hand.
“Maybe, maybe not. It’s too early to say.” She nudges my thigh, avoiding eye contact.
“But you’ve been smiling a lot since you got here. It’s a pretty one and it lights up your face.” And it shows off your fucking sexy lips that I want to nibble on. “I hope you do it all night long. In fact, I’ll make sure of it.”
“You’re doing very well so far.” The side of her mouth quirks up, and she points a finger at me. “See, I’m doing it again, and it’s all your fault.”
“Since my job is done, I’m outta here. Adios.” I stand and step away.
She yelps and springs from the bench. We watch in slo-mo as the bubbly pours out of the toppled bottle, through the bench seat, and puddles on the grass. Then, with catlike reflexes, she grabs it and lifts it in the air.
“I saved it…I think.” She swirls the bottle slowly, then tries to look inside. “There’s some left. Woo-hoo. Let’s finish this. Give me your glass.”
I hold it up. “Well, shit. That was a joke gone fucking wrong and a waste of some excellent champagne. I must be losing my touch. Sorry about that.” God, my game needs a lot of help. That was so bad.
“Good try anyway.” Olive fills my glass, then says, “There’s not much left.” She brings the bottle to her lips and tips her head back. I swallow deeply as she exposes her sensual neck and drinks down the remaining golden liquid.
I could do this all night. No need for a party or fireworks. Watching her enjoy herself is worth every second. This aspect of her personality lies right beneath the surface, begging to be unleashed. I have found my mission, not just for tonight but for the week.
She pulls the bottle away, then licks her lips. “Damn, that was good. Now it’s empty.” Burping lightly, she covers her mouth. “Oops. Shit. That was rude, right? Sorry.”
I crack up. “Not at all. I love it. You’re having fun.”
“More than fun. I came here to figure out my life because it looks nothing like I dreamed of.” Her voice drifts off. “You know what? I want to forget my problems this week. Want to help me with that?”
“I’ll do anything for you.” We both startle when a firework goes off in the distance, followed by a loud boom. “Damn, that scared me. They should’ve warned us beforehand,” I quip. Olive shivers next to me. “You’re cold. Should we go inside where the party is?”
She shakes her head. “I’m a little chilly, but I’d rather stay out here. If that’s okay.”
“Sure. I’m not going anywhere. When I celebrate New Year’s here, I sit on this bench to watch.” I place the empty bottle alongside our glasses on the grass.
“It’s so romantic out here with the lanterns in the tree and the fireworks over the water.” A loud bang goes off, and white sizzling stars burst in the air, cascading down until they disappear. Olive shivers again.
From my coat pocket, I retrieve tissues. “I’ve brought a blanket. Let me clean the bench first.”
Olive offers to help. I hand her a tissue and, together, we dry it off as much as possible.
“That should be good enough,” I declare, collecting the used tissues. She passes me one more, and I stuff the bundle into a glass.
“I don’t care if my coat gets a little dirty.” She plops down on the seat and crosses her legs. I follow suit, sitting closer to her than before.
I pull the blanket off the arm of the bench. “I’m getting a little cold too. Can we share?”
“Of course. We’re BFFs, don’t forget.”
I drape the woolen blanket over our laps. She tucks herself under it almost like a barrier. “Afraid I’ll make a move on you?”
“Don’t lions pounce? I have to protect myself from wild animals.” She covers her mouth and simpers.
“See, you do have a sense of humor. It might be a little rusty, but it’s not too late. Oh! Let me check the time.” I swat my thigh, and she twitches.
“Jeez, Leo. What’s the matter?”
“Less than thirty minutes until twelve! Then we can slam the door on this year and I can shave this damn mustache off.”
She lets out a belly laugh. “You’re freaking crazy.”
“That I can confirm, but I think you secretly love it.” She shrugs, but I see her lips twitching. “Come on. Admit it.”
A grin breaks through. “Fine. I love it.”
“See, that wasn’t too hard.”
She motions toward my mouth. “Are you really going to shave it off?”
“Yep. Right after the fireworks, I’ll head over to my place and chop off this lip sweater.”
She elbows me. “Lip sweater. Another good one. I think I like it better than fiesta fuzz.” She must have overheard my conversation with Ellie at the café. “Anyway, do you live nearby?”
“I live in a private cottage over there.” I point to the left of the main part of the hotel. “We have four, and they’re fully equipped. I stay in one, and my brother’s in another. I travel a lot, so it suits my needs.”
“I overheard you say you’re leaving in two weeks. Aren’t you the manager here?”
“I’m a hotel critic. I write articles for travel magazines and websites. When I’m not out on an assignment, I come home. Then if the actual manager of the hotel wants to take a vacation, I fill in.”
More fireworks go off, and guests trickle down from the hotel and party. I study Olive’s perfect profile as she observes the people passing by and how her face lights up like this is the first time she’s seeing fireworks. I’ve seen the show from this spot for years, but I won’t ever forget this one.
“Only a few minutes to go,” I say. “Ready?”
“Yes. Good thing—you’re quite boring,” she jabs. “I need a little more entertainment.”
I huff. “Oh really. I’ll show y?—”
“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!” Bethany jumps out from behind the tree. Olive and I jump off the bench like it’s boiling hot, and Bethany snorts. The blanket lands on the damp ground, and Olive scoops it up quickly.
“Fucking hell, Bethany!”
She comes forward like it’s an invitation and pulls me in for a hug lasting much longer than wanted. When she retreats, she drags her hands through my hair, creating a nest on top of my head since it was in a half bun. “I love your mustache. It’s so sexy .”
Ugh. A whiff of alcohol and cigarettes blows in my face. She has to be drunk—she’s never come on to me like this before. Shocking me further, she comes at me like she’s going to kiss me. I turn my head in time and her sloppy lips press hard on my cheek.
I pull away, wiping my face with the back of my hand. Then I shake my hair out, careful not to lose the band. I roll it onto my wrist and step closer to Olive. She tosses the blanket on the bench.
I put my arm around Olive’s waist and squeeze gently. She stiffens, then quickly relaxes into my side. I trace my nose along her neck and inhale, then whisper in her ear, “Please, please follow my lead.”
This is going to be hard to fake.