Page 62 of Undeniable

“Well, that is completely unacceptable.” Olivia’s expression was so stern, I nearly laughed. “And we’re going to have to remedy that immediately.”

“Oh yeah?” My tone was playful, teasing.

It was so easy to talk to her. Be with her.

“Yeah. Consider me your personal tour guide.” She drained the last of her coffee, her tongue darting out to lick her lips.

I clutched my thigh beneath the table, fighting back the urge to kiss her. The evening was winding down, and the coffee shop would be closing soon. But I wasn’t ready for our time together to end. Somehow, despite countless hours on the phone, numerous emails and texts, and now spending hours together, we still hadn’t run out of things to talk about.

I wasn’t sure where we went from here, but I knew I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. Definitely not tonight and perhaps not anytime soon.

When an employee made a show of bussing a nearby table, I said, “You want to get out of here?”

Olivia nodded and stood, and I placed my hand on her lower back without even thinking. When I pushed open the door, I got a fresh whiff of her scent—vanilla and sugar, like cookies. Like heaven. I wanted to lick her from top to bottom. I wanted to eat her up and go back for seconds. Thirds.

We stood outside on the sidewalk, and she kept glancing around as if debating what to say. Finally, she seemed to come to a decision, meeting my eyes. “Do you want to come back to my place?”

Fuck yes.I licked my lips, wanting more than anything to kiss her.Play it cool, Cujo.

“I’d like that.” I smiled. “I grabbed an Uber to get here from the hotel. I can order another or…”

“Don’t be silly. You can ride with me. I’m just over here.” She pulled out a set of keys, and the lights blinked on a Range Rover.

Swanky. Expensive. I tried not to let my surprise show as I followed her over to the car.

Part of me wondered how she’d afforded the luxury car on a marketing assistant’s salary in a city with such a high cost of living. Another part of me was grateful it had high safety ratings.

I settled into the leather seat and laughed when a song by Abby Taylor blasted through the speakers. Abby was a good kid, a good singer. Olivia quickly reached for the controls, flustered as she attempted to turn it down or switch it off.

“Sorry about that.” She flashed me a sheepish grin.

“Someone was rocking out,” I teased, bumping her elbow as I tried to imagine it. The sunroof open, windows down, her singing along to the radio. The image made me smile.

Luckily, traffic was relatively light, and we made it to her house in about twenty minutes. Along the way, she pointed out various landmarks, and I wondered if she was nervous. She wasn’t usually quite so eager to fill the silence when we spoke on the phone. That and her tight grip on the steering wheel told me she wasn’t as calm as she’d have me believe.

“This is me,” Olivia said, pulling into a driveway.

Cute, charming, welcoming were the first words that came to mind when I saw the Craftsman. Her house fit her perfectly.

I followed her up the stairs to the front door, small lights dotting the path. The grass had been recently trimmed, and all it was missing was the white picket fence and two-point-five children. I had a brief vision of a child with Olivia’s doe eyes and chestnut hair swinging from the tree out front, and I shook it away.What the hell?

I was here for a week.Oneweek. And then it was back to New York. Back to reality.

“Come on in.” She pushed open the door, and I followed her inside.

The smell of freshly baked cookies wafted through the air, filling me with a sense of warmth—of home—I’d rarely experienced as a child. My mother had loved baking, especially at Valentine’s Day, though fuck if I knew why. My father had been the least romantic man on the planet. He’d been more likely to give her bruises than flowers.

I thought about the note from him, still lying unopened on my desk. Why now? Apart from the fact that he was dying? And why couldn’t I just throw it away?

“Connor?” Olivia placed her hand on my arm.

“What?” I shook my head as if to clear it. “Your house is very cozy.” I noticed a panel for a security system on the wall, but she hadn’t turned it off when we’d arrived.

“Thank you.” Olivia smiled.

I was dying to touch her, especially after finally getting to feel her in my arms. But instead, I focused on the house. A large picture window overlooked the front yard, and original wood details had been preserved, even if some of the home had been modernized.

The architecture was nice, but I was more concerned with Olivia’s safety. The big window was a liability, even if it was charming. I’d surveyed the exits and determined the weaknesses of what I could see. There were a number of security improvements that needed to be made, but those could wait for now.

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