Picture Perfect (Butler Island) (14 page)

Not wanting to ambush her, he waited
patiently as she mingled through the crowd, taking pictures and talking. He
kept a watchful eye on her, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible, waiting
for the perfect moment to make his approach.

It hadn’t escaped her: Grant was monitoring
her every move. No one else in the room seemed to notice, but she certainly
did. Every time his eyes landed on her she felt a jolt of sexual energy. How he
managed to do that to her when he was standing on the opposite side of the bay
garage, she didn’t have a clue.

She liked Grant.

There.

 She said it.

Whatever
was
happening between
them, it was more than simple friendship. More than a quick roll in the sack—or
against a door.

And wasn’t that the core of her
dilemma? Grant was the kind of man she could easily fall for. And he was also
the kind of man that could shatter her heart into a million little pieces…

She couldn’t allow that to happen.
She refused to mourn the loss of another person she cared about. Her heart told
her to keep herself guarded—to protect herself at all costs.

Olivia felt two taps on her shoulder
and then turned around.

“Hey, Olivia.”

“Oh, hey, Jarrod. How’re you?”

“Much better now”, he said as he
revealed a heartfelt smile.

Olivia returned the gesture. “Well,
aren’t you a perfect gentleman.”

“I’ll take that—I’ve been called far
worse.”

Crossing her arms, she tilted her
head. “Somehow I find that hard to believe.”

“
Yeah,
well, thanks…”

Jarrod shoved
his
hands in his pockets and
rocked back on his
heels. “So, um, I was wondering if
a
certain, beautiful, photographer would be
interested in joining this
gentleman for a drink later?”

“What, you mean one of those raw egg
cocktails you’re famous for?” she asked with a wide grin.

“No, I was thinking along the lines
of something stronger. What do you say…?”

Dinner was essentially over. There
were a few stragglers surrounding the buffet table for dessert and second
helpings, but mostly the crowd mingled. Seeing an opportunity to catch a moment
with Olivia, Grant started across the bay.

Along the way he was snagged by Chief
Handler’s wife, Debbie. He tried to make a quick getaway, but he should’ve
known better. Debbie Handler was an extremely kind woman with a heart of gold,
but boy did she like to talk. It didn’t matter what about: weather, coupons,
hell—the last time he’d been cornered, she’d divulged that cheese made Chief
constipated. And when they’d attended a wine and cheese gathering at the
Mitchell’s residence earlier in the year, he’d consumed a month’s worth of
cheese in one night. She went on to describe how he’d been backed up for over a
week and even went into detail about the various remedies he’d tried to get
things moving again.

They exchanged greetings and before
he knew it, she was telling him a story about the trouble she’d gone through
yesterday when she’d cleaned the lint from the dryer.

“I stuck my hand in as far as it
would go, but then I was terrified I’d get it stuck. And wouldn’t that have
been an interesting call? I can picture you boys sitting here at the station,
moments away from eating your lunch, when suddenly dispatch interrupts with an
emergency: ‘We have an entrapment at 102
Second
Street.’ That’s all I need—the jaws-of-life
cutting me loose from my
dryer. I mean, can you imagine?”

Fuck!

“I do have to say, though, my hands
were laundry fresh by the time I was done! They smelled like I’d been outside
picking wildflowers…”

Grant looked around—he desperately
needed a way out of this conversation.

“…I recently switched dryer sheets. I
used to always buy the fresh linen scent, but I have to tell you—that
wildflower fragrance is so much better! I think it lasts longer on the clothes,
too...”

He smiled a polite smile and ran his
fingers through his hair. When he glanced back at Olivia, she was talking to
Jarrod. She was smiling at him and Grant thought Jarrod was standing a little
too close to her, the look in his eyes a little too lustful.

An overwhelming need to protect her
washed over him. Jarrod was a good guy, but he clearly didn’t have good
intentions when it came to the beautiful blonde standing in front of him.

Admit it, Womack. You’re jealous.

Okay. Yeah. So what if he was? Was
that a crime?

“…I never understood why folks buy
the liquid fabric softener. Most of the fragrance gets carried away in the rinse
cycle. It makes more sense to use the dryer sheets. They perfume the clothes
and help to ward off wrinkles—”

It’s now or never.

“I couldn’t agree more. Listen, can
you excuse me for just a moment?” he asked as he patted her shoulder.

“Sure.”

Grant moved around Chatty Debbie and
pointed his work boots toward Olivia.

“I appreciate the offer, I really do,
but truthfully I’m beat!”

Jarrod smiled and then studied the
ground for a moment before meeting her gaze again. “Maybe some other time
then?”

“Yeah, maybe…”

“—Hey, Olivia, can I talk to you for
a minute?” Grant asked as he approached.

Raising her camera, she shook her
head. “I’m sorry; now’s not a good time. Ty’s about to start the fire engine
and turn on the lights and sirens for the kids. I don’t want to miss a good
photo op”, She reiterated. Reaching for his forearm, she gave it a reassuring
squeeze. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Yeah, okay…”

Grant watched as she walked away.
What the hell did he expect? No way was she going to talk to him about what’d
happened the other day in her darkroom
here.
Nope, he needed a new
strategy and he suddenly knew exactly how to implement it. He’d let her walk
away… for now. But something deep in his gut told him he couldn’t let her walk
away for good.

They were good
together: mentally,
emotionally,
physically.
In less than two months, this amazing woman had
managed to wriggle her way into his heart. She’d managed to reach into the
depths of his soul. A place he’d kept hidden for thirty-three years.

He was going to fight for her.
Eradicate her protective walls and puncture her ego until he uncovered the
hidden treasure beneath. Because this rare beauty was a unique find, and damn
it, he wasn’t about to let the best thing that’d ever happened to him walk
away.

Kicking off her shoes, Olivia left
her bedroom and shuffled to the kitchen. It’d been a long, stressful day and
with Ty still at the station until morning, she had the entire evening to
unwind in private. She liked being home, sleeping in her childhood bed, but
having lived on her own for the past nine years, she also enjoyed quiet time by
herself.

Her plan: open a bottle of wine, sit
in front of the fire pit on the patio, and try not to dwell on the mess she’d
created with her personal life.

Easier said than done.

After an entire afternoon of
restraint, Grant had finally approached her—no doubt wanting an explanation.

 And he deserved one. But somehow
when it came time to leave, she hadn’t been able to find the courage or the
words to explain her behavior.

This was just who she was. She didn’t
know how to be any other way. Losing control made her feel vulnerable. And she
hated
that—hated the overwhelming fear that enveloped her. Why couldn’t she be like
everyone else? Why did she always have to be in the driver’s seat?

She embraced spontaneity when it
involved her career—hell, being spontaneous as a teen landed her the nickname
“daredevil.” But when it came to personal relationships, she was
petrified
.

She wanted to continue to see Grant,
but only on
her terms…

So much for spontaneity.

Yeah. She was well aware of the
irony. Her career as a freelance photographer sometimes led her to dangerous
situations. She never thought twice about putting herself in harm’s way in
order to capture the perfect picture. The risks she took were almost second
nature to her. Somehow, the thought of risking her heart—
her soul
—left
her unprotected, defenseless, and susceptible to heartbreak again. She’d had
enough heartbreak. She wouldn’t endure it—couldn’t—endure it again.

Olivia removed the cork from the
bottle opener and reached above her for a wine glass when she heard the
doorbell ring. She paused for a moment, knowing already who stood on the other
side of the front door…

Grant.

 Glancing at the clock on the stove
she realized his shift had just ended five minutes earlier, which meant he’d
immediately rushed here.

Setting her glass on the counter, she
hurried to the front door to open it. “Hey, Grant.”

“Mind if I come in?”

“Sure.” Making her way back to the
kitchen, she nervously tucked her hair behind one of her ears as he followed.
“I just opened a bottle of wine. Would you like a glass?”

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

 Grant leaned his forearms against
the bar and watched as she reached overhead into the cupboard for a second
glass.

 “Are you expecting company?” he
asked as he gestured toward the packaged fire log sitting on the counter beside
her.

After taking a quick glimpse of the
fire log, she met his curious gaze. “No. Why do you ask?”

Grant shrugged his shoulders. “Just
seems like a lot of trouble to go through.”

You fucking idiot—why did you say
that?

“What—
this thing
?” she asked
as she lifted it from the counter. “It doesn’t get any easier than this, sugar.
All I have to do is place it in the fire pit, strike a match, and enjoy.”

“That’s not what I meant… forget
it—it doesn’t matter.”

“Okaaay”, she responded cautiously.
“Here”, she said as she tossed the paper-wrapped log in his direction. After he
caught it, she picked up both glasses of wine and started toward the French
doors. “Make yourself useful. Matches are in the drawer beside the stove.”

“I thought you said this was easy”,
he called out.

Olivia stopped and glanced over her
shoulder. “Oh, it is. But why do it when I have a fireman at my disposal?”
After revealing one of her gorgeous, gut-twisting smiles, she winked and then
wandered onto the patio.

Grant chuckled softly under his
breath—his feisty lil’ Livvy was back.

Once he grabbed the matches from the
miscellaneous drawer, he joined her on the patio, starting the fire with ease.
Olivia had already hauled a lounge chair toward the fire pit and instead of
dragging another seat close to the fire, he opted to sit with her. He wanted to
be close to her—
needed to be close to her.
He lifted her legs and sat at
the foot of the lounge chair, placing her lower legs back in his lap.

Silence enveloped them for a time—not
an awkward silence—just a peaceful pause in conversation as their senses were
riveted by the flickering
flame. Its
radiance hypnotized their eyes, the
crackling melody echoing their
contentment.

Taking a sip of wine, Grant broke the
silence. “I’m sorry about earlier”, he offered.

“Sorry? For what?” She asked
confusedly.

“I saw you talking to Jarrod at the
station and… I don’t know… seeing the wine and the fire log, I just figured—”

“You were
jealous?”
she asked
in disbelief.

Feeling a little uncomfortable with
that label, he took another sip of wine and then clenched his jaw. Her
adjective was accurate, but that didn’t mean he liked it. “Um, yeah. Maybe a
little.”

“Jarrod asked me to have a drink with
him, but I turned him down. I had a really stressful day; a crackling fire,
wine… it seemed like a good way to unwind.”

Keeping his eyes on the flames, he
nodded in agreement. “That it is.”

He paused for a moment, deciphering
how he should proceed. He didn’t want her to get defensive and recoil—not when
things finally seemed like they
were
somewhat “normal” again. “So how’ve you
been?”

“I’ve been great”, she lied.

“No, you haven’t—you can’t fool me,
Livvy… Why are you avoiding me?”

Removing her legs from his lap, she
drew them in closer until her heels were flush against her rear end. “I didn’t
mean to avoid you. It’s just… it—”

“—got a little too intense the other
day, huh?”

Olivia cleared her throat and
nervously tucked a strand of hair behind one of her ears. Talking about her
feelings wasn’t something she felt entirely comfortable with. “Yeah, something
like that...”