Megan refused to take her in, so at thirteen, Olive lived mostly on the streets. She stayed with friends when she could, slept in cars, in the park, and at the only homeless shelter in the city that wouldn’t turn her into social services.
A year later, Megan reached out and offered her a couch to sleep on, but only if she helped her and Kyle with their retail theft operation. She’d been so worn down, so close to being broken that she agreed just to have some sense of stability in her life. As she got older, she became more and more uncomfortable with stealing, and with a heavy dose of guilt, traded some lifted merchandise for a barely running station wagon she hadn’t been old enough to drive. She made it her home for almost three years by staying under the radar.
Come on, you bitch. Call your sister.
She never should have visited them. If she hadn’t, her phone wouldn’t be blowing up constantly with insults and threats from the man she never, ever wanted to see again.
Moving to her desk to check her to-do list, she steepled her thumb and forefinger over her temple and considered which task to do first. Moving to her desk, she tested her coffee and took a long sip that was cut short when the bell above the door jingled.
“I’ll be right with you.”
Turning to greet her customer, she nearly dropped the cup as Ryker came toward her with three boxes in his big hands and a leather tool belt around his narrow hips. A tight blue shirt hugged his chest, the sleeves threatening to rip around his biceps. Battered jeans topped equally beat-up work boots. The shirt made his sapphire eyes pop. His auburn hair looked like he’d brushed it back with his fingers and it was deciding whether or not to flop into his eyes. Stubble lined his chin and jaw. God. Why did stubble always make a man a thousand times hotter?
His eyes roamed over her. Unprepared for the heat in his expression, Olive tucked curls behind her ear to give her hands something to do. Silence stretched awkwardly between them as their eyes locked. Why didn’t he say something?
She couldn’t take the tension. Her nerves were already shot—which is why she hadn’t looked for him at the bakery this morning. The best way to handle this was with cheeriness she didn’t feel and get him out of there as soon as possible.
“Good morning,” she chirped. “Need a bracelet? Maybe a new pair of earrings?”
He didn’t smile. Imagine that. “No.”
Setting her coffee down, she came around the counter, ignoring the flutter in her belly. “Are you sure? I bet a diamond tennis bracelet would look great on you.”
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I don’t even know what that is.”
“Not surprising. What brings you by?”
“I told Cara that I’d replace the smoke detectors with more sensitive ones.” He held up the boxes as if she needed proof. “I’ll start in the back.”
“Sure.”
Smoke detectors. Of course, that’s why he was here. Did she think he’d come to see her? Of course not. Just because they’d had brief banter during the pancake eating contest didn’t mean they were friends.
She moved aside so he could pass.
He was going to be in her proximity for a while. Taking up space with his big body. Filling the air with his unique sage and sandalwood scent. Goosebumps spread on her forearms.Don’t make it weird, Olive.
Even though she intended to get back to work, she followed him instead. He pulled a bendable ladder from the storage room and did a double-take to find her in the hallway. Yeah, she was just as surprised as he was that she was standing there. Cheeks heating, she leaned against the wall and watched as he unfolded the ladder beneath the fire alarm and climbed up.
He pulled the cover off the alarm and took out the battery. Twisting the base, he pulled it down and fiddled with some wires. Seconds ticked by as she watched him work. His movements were efficient, as if he’d done this a hundred times and the motions were all rote.
He swore lightly under his breath and grabbed two thin wires in each hand. “Are you supervising or just bored?”
“Both?”
He spared her a glance. “In that case, grab the clamp from the right side pocket of my belt. I can’t let go of these wires or I’m going to lose them.”
He was five rungs up on the ladder. She’d have to climb up to reach his tool belt.
“Okay, um, hang on.”
She grabbed the side of the ladder in her right hand and stepped up, but she’d have to let go to reach the tool. There was no way to balance without grabbing his leg for support.
“Sorry,” she mumbled as she grabbed the back of his thigh.
God, he was warm. And firm. So much muscle.
Focus!Lifting on her toes, she almost reached, but not quite. Going up one more rung, she slid her hand up the back of his thigh as she grabbed the clamp from the tool belt and handed it to him.
