Page 30 of Waking Olivia

"Why?" My voice is quiet and uncertain, and I'm embarrassed by the question.

"Why does it stay warm?”

"No. Why would he build it for you?"

Will cocks his head, looking at me as if he's trying to understand something. "Because he loved us. Why else would he do it?"

I don’t answer, but the truth is that I can't imagine someone caring about his children that much. I can't imagine anyone caring about anyone that much.

By the time we finish riding, the sun has gone down and the breeze has picked up. The air feels crisp, a hint of fall on the heels of summer.

“So what was the deal with you and Mark Bell?”he asks as we ride back to the stables.

I’m immediately wary. “What do you mean?”

“It takes a whole lot of rage to take a baseball bat to another human being. I figured he must have cheated on you or something.”

A small, choked laugh escapes my throat. “No, we weren’t dating. I don’t date.”

“What do you mean you don’t date?” he asks, aghast. His tone suggests that I just told him I don’t breathe. “Ever?”

I shrug. "If I want to sleep with someone, I don’t need him texting me all the time and pretending he actually likes me as a person in order to do it.”

He looks more dumbfounded than when I told him about the sleep running. "I don’t even know what to say. You can’t mean that.”

“Why not?”

“Because you should be waiting for someone who actuallydoeslike you as a person. And how do you know they’re pretending?”

I roll my eyes. “I know my strengths, Will. Likeability isn’t high on the list. You’d be the first to attest to it.”

“I never said you were unlikeable,” he protests.

“You don’t have to. It’s written all over your face every time you look at me.” I sigh, tiring of this whole conversation and glad we’re almost done riding so I can escape it. “Don’t worry. I’m used to it.”

“Olivia, there are guys out there who would actually like you.”

“No, there aren’t. There may be guys who convince themselves they like the whole package when they actually just like the box it comes in, but they’d figure it out soon enough.”

“So you just stick with douchebags,” he huffs, “instead of waiting for a decent guy to come along who actually means well?”

“When I’m looking for someone to hook up with,” I reply, “the last thing I want is someone whomeans well. Nothing’s less exciting than a guy who’s too nice.” Because in that one area of my life, I want a guy who isn’t scared to take charge. Who’s a little bossy and knows exactly what he wants. Someone like …no, I’m not even going to think it.

We dismountand I unsaddle Trixie while he handles the significantly better horse he chose for himself. We finish up at the same time and turn back toward the house.

"Race you?" I challenge, expecting him to refuse.

"Your funeral," he says, taking off. I'm so shocked that it takes me a second to register the fact that he's running at all.

"No fair!" I shout from behind. He slows just enough to let me catch up and then we are flying.

It’s my favorite kind of run. The kind where the breeze is warm and blowing at your back and you feel so light and so strong it seems possible you'll take flight. At the very last minute he pulls ahead to win and we both crash into the front porch, laughing.

"You cheated!" I protest.

"How was that cheating?" he demands.

"Because I didn't know you were that fast!" I laugh. "I'd never have challenged you if I thought I might lose.”

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