Home Matters (A Ripple Effect Romance Novella, Book 1) (12 page)

“Yes, sir. I’ll get right on it,” she affirmed, only because she had no idea what else to say. “You won’t be disappointed,” she promised, her eyes unable to fully meet his.

And that was when she caught sight of a familiar face—or more accurately, the face of a traitor—loitering just beyond the French doors.

Their gazes met for only an instant before he ducked out of sight.

Like a pressure cooker left on high, outrage swelled to dangerous levels inside Olivia as she knocked crewmembers out of her way, beating a sure path straight for the enemy.

“
Why?
” she screamed.

Pete secured a strap around a table saw and hooked it to the side of the trailer before turning to face her. “Let me guess. You’re not here to thank me?”

Olivia blew out a stream of hot steam. “You stole my sketchpad, went behind
my
back, and everyone else’s, and for what?” She tossed her arms in the air. “We’re both going to be fired!”

Pete stepped onto the trailer’s bumper and slid the back door closed. “Firing me would be redundant,” he said and hopped to the street. “Seeing as how I’ve already emailed my resignation to the network.”

Not taking the time to fully process what he’d said, Olivia launched into the assault she’d planned in her head on the short walk out here. “I refuse to take the fall for your… Wait. What?” she said, then, “Why?”

Pete’s brow rose to form a condescending look. “I think the ‘why’ should be obvious,” he said as he made a move to pass her.

Olivia stepped in front of him and put a hand to his chest. “Really?” she patronized right back. “And why would you think that? Because everything with you is
sooo
obvious?”

Taking her by the shoulders, Pete lifted her feet from the ground and moved her aside. “Get out of my way, Olivia,” he said, sidestepping around the back corner of the trailer before she could cut him off again.

Olivia stomped after him. “Where are you going?”

Pete unlatched the truck door. The hinges squeaked as he swung it open. “To drop all this equipment at next month’s shoot. Then, I’m off to woo some investors.” He hopped into the cab. “If Hearts and Hammers is going to have any chance of helping people, it’s time I made it my focus, or go down in a blaze of glory trying.” He reached to pull the door closed.

Olivia caught the door and pushed it back. “Oh, no you don’t,” she said, positioning herself between Pete’s seat and the door. She shook a finger at him. “You’re not leaving me here alone to clean up
your
mess.”

Leaning forward, Pete rested both hands on the steering wheel and consulted the distance. “Besides the fact you somehow think I owe you, give me one good reason I should stay,” he asked, slanting a glance her way.

Olivia knew what he wanted to hear, and the small part of her that wasn’t fighting mad, the part that wanted more than anything to feel his lips against hers again, advised her to tell him she’d been wrong the other night to push him away. But she couldn’t. Not right this second and with her world turned on end. Neither of them would know for sure whether her change of heart was driven by genuine affection or desperation. And she couldn’t risk an outcome that involved the latter.

“You did this, which only means
one
thing. You
have
to stay here and help me fix it. If I don’t pull this design together before tomorrow night, my career is over.”

Pete blew out a weary sigh. “If your career ends over a design your clients are in love with,” he said, “well then, maybe it wasn’t meant to be.”

Olivia’s heart shriveled in her chest. “How can you say that?” She could hardly breathe. “I’ve been waiting my whole life for a starring role like this.”

“Have you?” Pete asked, his gaze searching hers as if giving her one last chance to take back what they both knew wasn’t the truth anymore. “Have you really?”

Though she’d come to question some of her goals as of late, she couldn’t possibly…
No
, she wouldn’t risk forfeiting her dreams on a whim. “I’m not a designer,” she insisted.

He looked at her a moment longer, disappointment swimming in his eyes. “Sure you are. Olivia, you can do this. I believe in you. You know what to do.” He reached down and brushed a finger over her heart. “In here, at least.” His touch set off a fresh wave of panic, this time driven by a longing at the realization he was leaving and that she had to let him go. “You have your designs, your fabric swatches, and pictures of furnishings galore.” He pointed in the direction of the mansion. “Go. Do what you were obviously born to do.”

Then, with a gentle nudge, he moved her shock-laden body out of the door’s path and pulled it closed. “I’ll see you around.” The engine revved to life, and he was gone.

Bouncing over the uneven cobblestone street, Pete’s truck disappeared from sight. Olivia watched him go, knowing she needed to move, to get off the street, and out of the way of another vehicle she could hear coming up behind her. Except her body had gone numb, her muscles unresponsive to reason.

“Olivia,” Tristi’s cautious voice came up beside her. “I know you’re busy, what with your career crashing down around you and whatnot, but…” She held the paper she’d been reading earlier out in front of Olivia again. “I really think you need to take a look at this.”

After a long moment of concerted effort, Olivia forced her eyes from the corner where Pete’s truck had long since rounded and looked to the paper. From the page Tristi had folded back, Pete’s wry grin smiled up at her.

Motor functions restored, she reached up and took the paper from her assistant. Speed-reading the page, she saw that the article told of Pete’s nonprofit, spelling out the details of the people he’d helped, including an exposé on the local family whose living room she’d helped paint just a few days prior. Scanning further down, she skimmed the history of Pete’s inspiration, complete with a picture of his fiancée, Teresa.

As if an imaginary hand had reached out and gripped her throat, Olivia choked on what she saw. With the exception that this woman’s nose was broader, her eyes closer set: “She’s…” Olivia tried. Then tried again, “She looks…”

“Just like you,” Tristi finished.

Pete was gone. The possibility that he’d risked his television career out of some sort of twisted affection for Olivia disappeared the moment she’d glimpsed that picture of Teresa. Eleanor and her staff were refusing to help bring together Olivia’s design.

She was reluctant to call her agent, and forget about consulting her parents—her mother would pop a vein for sure—she had only one other person to turn to for guidance.

Knock, knock, knock.
“William.”
Knock, knock, knock.
“William.” Olivia’s knuckles stung from her vigorous rapping, but she hit them against the hotel room door again anyway.
Knock, knock, knock.
“William.”

With her ear pressed against the cool wood panel, she held quiet an impatient moment, listening for evidence that William was on the other side. And given that the clock had yet to strike the eight a.m. hour, she suspected he was not only in there, but more than likely still fast asleep.

Her fist poised to begin another round of knocking, she held back upon hearing the sound of throat clearing coming from the other side. “Olivia, darling, why are you Sheldon-Coopering my door?” William asked.

Relief washed over her panicked body. She collapsed against the door. “Something’s happened,” she pled. “I need to talk to you. Open up.
Please.
”

William cracked the door and leaned out his head. “Sweetie, can’t it wait? I’m not properly dressed,” he apologized, but Olivia ignored his reservations. Strong-arming the door open, she barged in. “All-righty then,” he said as she breezed past him. “What could be so important, it couldn’t keep until a less ungodly hour?”

Olivia skidded to a stop in the middle of a posh living area, her focus scanning from the mini bar and kitchenette to a fifty-inch flat screen TV, then through a set of doors into another room, and on to a four-poster, king-sized bed. Her current predicament temporarily relocated to the backburner. All she could think was: “Your room… It’s so much bigger than mine.”

William chuckled. “That’s your idea of a crisis?” he said. “Welcome to the top of the mountain.” He flourished his arms out. As he did, Olivia came to understand his concern over the inadequacy of his attire. Sporting a silky robe, loosely tied at the waist and exposing his smooth, chiseled chest, the fabric he wore was thin and clingy enough to leave little doubt of his complete nakedness underneath. Swinging her gaze away, she split her focus between his left shoulder and the cherry wood desk just beyond.

“My agent is obviously better than yours,” he continued to gloat. “Now that you’ve become an overnight success, you should consider other options,” he suggested as he took her by the arm and steered her back toward the door. “Better yet,” he added, a salacious look skimming her from lips to breasts, “what do you say, when we get to our next location, we share a room? Valentine, Nebraska. Very romantic, don’t you think?”

Olivia stared up at him, her eyes rotating through a few blink cycles as she struggled to consider his offer. “Share a room…?” she repeated. The very thought twisted her stomach into knots. “Thanks, but I don’t think…” she began when the laptop on his desk grabbed her attention. Focusing in on the screen, she barely caught a glimpse of a peculiar image prior to its fading to black.

“What was that?” she asked, making a move toward the desk. “There, on your computer screen?”

William adjusted his position, blocking her way. “Just work.” He snagged her by the arm again. “None of your concern,” he said, his voice flirtatious as usual, while his eyes remained sedate. His inability to show consistent emotion skyrocketed her need to discover what he was hiding to the top of her to-do list.

Using one of the football moves her brothers had taught her, she faked left, then quickly veered right, easily evading William.

Diving for the desk, she slammed her fingers onto the mouse pad. The screen glowed to life. Her eyes rounded in disbelief. “What are you doing with this picture?”

William dismissed her concern with a wave of his hand. “I hate to point out the obvious my dear, but I’m the one who should be aghast,” he said, though if appalled was what he was going for, his tone sounded awfully casual. “Imagine my shock, thinking I was simply snooping on Eleanor’s design. But instead, I found my heart’s desire, lip-locked with another man.” He reached out and tenderly tucked a strand of Olivia’s hair behind her ear. “If I hadn’t been so absolutely thrilled to see that Eleanor had taken the bait, altered her design to reflect a more…” He hesitated to consider his words. “Shall we say,
lofty
approach, I may have been devastated.”

So, he had seen her kissing Pete that night. But he hadn’t cared. And why? Because he’d somehow outwitted Eleanor and her? Another knot twisted Olivia’s gut. She honestly didn’t know what to say. Taking a moment to consider where to go from here, she glanced over the desk, this time noticing an array of home listings scattered about.

Gathering a few pages, she sifted through the listings. All mansions—Greek-revival style like the Calhouns’—except that under the specifications, descriptions such as, “large master bath,” “cozy floor plan,” and “finished basement,” stood out as beacons of his deceit. “I thought you told me you were showing Mr. and Mrs. Calhoun loft-style condos down by the river because that’s what they wanted?”