Smooth-Talking Cowboy

She was suddenly aware of the fact that her neck burned, and she angled her head to the side, looking at her reflection, looking at the trail of red that ran down her skin.

Whisker burn, she realized.

Those whiskers that had been captivating her for all this time had left their mark, that was sure.

Who was she? She didn’t have an answer to that. Or at least, not one she liked.

She pulled her dress up over her head, whirling around and turning on the hot water knob in her shower. Then she wrestled with her bra, extricating herself clumsily before shoving her leggings and her underwear down her thighs.

She stepped beneath the spray of water before it was warm, shivering as it slowly grew hotter and hotter, sluicing over her bare shoulders.

She was determined to stand there until she felt normal again. Until she could no longer feel the impression of his lips on hers, his stubble against her neck, his hands on her hips.

She stood there until the water got cold again, and she could still feel his touch. She stood there until she was too miserable and exhausted to do anything but turn the water off, wrap herself in a towel and sit on the edge of her bed.

Slowly, she became aware of her body. Of the fact that her breasts still felt sensitive, of the fact that she felt achy and restless between her thighs still. That got her moving. Spurred her to dry herself off and get herself covered up in sensible, cozy pajamas.

She hoped that would make her feel more like herself.

But as she slipped beneath the covers and curled up into a tight ball, she still felt wrong. Still felt like somebody new. Somebody she didn’t want to be.

And she was afraid that good girl Olivia, the Olivia that was so essential, wasn’t someone she could simply get back to. Because she was afraid she had shattered that Olivia irrevocably in the cab of Luke Hollister’s truck.

As she finally drifted off to sleep, all she could think was that nothing was right. She didn’t know how it ever would be again.

CHAPTER NINE (#ube8ed8cf-5a66-59c6-af4d-1af7ec78b06c)

WHEN OLIVIA WOKE up the next morning her phone was glowing on the couch. She had a raft of texts from her mother. And before she could bend down to pick the phone up, there was a knock at the door.

“Darn it,” she whispered, picking up the phone and holding it to her chest.

She walked to the front door, the white carpet plush beneath her feet. Usually a comfort in trying times, but nothing was comforting to her now.

“Coming,” she muttered as the knocking became more insistent. She had absolutely no illusions as to who it was.

She opened the door and came face-to-face with her mother.

Tamara Logan closely resembled Olivia, only older and more elegant. She was an inch or so shorter than her daughter, still as trim and petite as she had always been. There were fine lines next to her eyes, and not even one strand of gray in her brown hair. If that was accomplished by a hair salon, she would never say, and no one would be brave enough to ask.

“Thank God you’re here,” her mother said, breezing past her and walking into the room. She looked around her, as if she expected to see something out of place. Olivia had a feeling she was expecting, dreading, the possibility that she might find Luke Hollister in the house somewhere, enjoying a morning after.

“I’m alone,” Olivia said.

“Good,” Tamara answered, looking visibly relieved. “I can’t tell you how many texts and phone calls I got about you and Luke. Kissing.”

“I went on a date with him,” Olivia said, wrapping her arms around herself. “It wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t even a very serious kiss.” The one in the bar that anyone had seen. She left out any mention of the kiss that had happened after.

She wasn’t even going to think about that kiss, much less talk to her mom about it. She suddenly felt like she was thirteen again and staring down her very disappointed mother after the skinny-dipping fiasco.

Whose fault was this, Olivia? I can hardly believe it was yours.

Olivia swallowed hard.

“I’m not sure he’s a very good man for you to be going on dates with,” her mom said, frowning. “And I thought you wanted to try and patch things up with Bennett. I’m sure that by now he’s regretting breaking up with you.”

“I broke up with Bennett,” Olivia said, realizing that she hadn’t exactly explained the whole story to her parents. “He didn’t break up with me.”

Shock flitted over her mother’s face. “But you were so devastated...”

“I know,” she said, shifting in place, feeling about two inches tall. “I just... I don’t want to be broken up with him. I didn’t want to be. But, you know, I wanted to get married and...”

“He didn’t?”

“Not as quickly as I did. I don’t know. I’m questioning my decision making now.” She was questioning a lot of things. And it was way too early in the morning for her to be trying to explain any of it to her mother, when she could hardly process what had happened the night before, much less what all had happened in the past month.

“I don’t like not knowing where you are,” her mom said. “I texted you so many times last night.”

“I came home early,” Olivia said, lying only a little bit, “and I went to sleep. Sorry.”

Her mother looked so genuinely concerned that Olivia felt guilty. It was one thing to feel indignant in the moment, like her leash was too short. It was another to fully face the reasons she consented to that leash.

Her parents never knew where Vanessa was. They heard from her maybe twice a year, and it was rarely comforting. They deserved to have one child they didn’t have to worry about constantly. She also knew that her parents worried about her even more because of Vanessa. Because they already had one child that was lost to them for all intents and purposes.

They had enough sleepless nights without adding Olivia to their list of worries, and for her part, she had done everything in her power to make sure that she wasn’t doing that.

But last night she had. In a few different ways. And now guilt sat heavily on her chest like a rock, joining all of the other muddled feelings she was contending with.

“Nothing is happening with Luke,” Olivia said. “It’s not. I went out with him because I wanted to prove to Bennett, and to myself a little bit—” she said a small prayer asking for forgiveness for the lie “—that I could go out with someone else if I wanted to. But I promise I’m not blind to anything about Luke. I know him too well.”

Tamara sighed heavily, that burst of energy she’d come in with clearly beginning to run out of steam. Her mother reacted with fear first. It was fear, Olivia knew that. She understood it. “It’s all right if you want to go on dates.”

“I know,” Olivia said, feeling a little bit silly that she was twenty-five years old, standing there in a house on her parents’ property offering justifications for a date she had gone on. Now she felt silly and guilty. So that was fun.

“But, I am relieved to hear that it wasn’t serious. I’m sure that Luke is a nice enough man,” Tamara conceded, “but I wouldn’t say he was suited to you.”

“No,” Olivia said, agreeing with that wholeheartedly. And tried not to think about the way his hands on her body had seemed to suit certain purposes.

“Bennett is a much better choice. He’s from such a good family. And he’s such a good man. He’ll take care of you.”

Her mother’s eyes shone with conviction. The absolute certainty that Olivia needed to be cared for. But then, her mom and dad took care of her now. So of course they thought she might need someone to take care of her later. Bennett had been an ideal someone to them.

To Olivia, too.

But she was starting to be concerned she had blown that potential future up, and that there would be no getting back to it. That felt hopeless. It felt scary. Like the future in front of her was blank, and the past behind her was slipping out of reach.

She’d had a plan. But in that space between the bar and her house, something had happened. Something had happened with Luke. And it had done something to her.

“We’ll see what happens with Bennett,” Olivia said. “I know what I want. I don’t know what he wants.”