Picture Perfect (Butler Island) (25 page)

“Doing what?”

“Pushing me away!
Why? Why,
Livvy…?
Last night, I thought—”

“Last night I had a moment of
weakness, but I’m better now. I’m not gonna let this bastard scare me anymore…”

Peeling her focus away from his
intense gaze, she lowered her head. What she was about to say was going to be
tough, but it had to be done. She needed to do it quickly—like ripping off a
band aid—before she lost what little courage she had left.

“Listen, I really appreciate your
concern—I really do—but I can take care of myself.”

“I know you
can,
but—”

“I need to focus on my work, Grant.
I’ve been ignoring my biggest priority too often lately and… and I can’t afford
any distractions right now.”

“What are you saying?” he asked
disconcertedly.

“You should go”, she whispered,
unable to find her voice.

What the hell?
Grant lifted
her chin with his fingertips, forcing her to look him in the eye. “So I’m a
distraction?”
Her silence said more than any words she could’ve spoken. Removing his
fingertips from her chin, he wiped his hand down his face. Rage rose within him
like searing magma, threatening to explode.

She thought he was a distraction…
Like a car
alarm whose siren sounded with deafening precision; a hungry mosquito buzzing
in her ear…
a Goddamn distraction!

He needed to get out of this room
before he did something else distracting—like confess how much he loved her.
“Alright then”, he mumbled as he pivoted toward the door.

Olivia watched helplessly as he
disappeared from view, leaving her alone.

Alone.

Why couldn’t she be brave? Why
couldn’t she trust his love?—trust her heart?

Because she was terrified of loss.
So terrified
that she’d deliberately hurt Grant before he had an opportunity to hurt her.

The look on his face when he’d asked
if he was a distraction had almost killed her. Almost. She reminded herself
that she didn’t have a choice. The important people in her life tended not to
“stick.”

Trusting her heart would only result
in its death. Because it was only a matter of time before he’d realize she
wasn’t the woman she proclaimed to be; she was a fraud.

He was in love with the carefree,
picture perfect image she’d cultivated years ago—not the
real
her
…

Friday night poker…

Grant was in no mood to play, but
Olivia had been avoiding him all week. He wasn’t confident he’d win, but he was
confident he’d get an opportunity to see her, talk to her. And that was worth
any amount of money he’d lose in the process.

After ringing the doorbell, he shoved
his hands in his front pockets and drew in a deep breath. As soon as the door
opened, he stepped inside, his eyes scanning the room for her presence.

“Eager to lose your money tonight,
are you?” Randall asked as he closed the door behind them.

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Well, good—I owe a buddy of mine a
boat load of cash. Taking yours will be the easiest part-time gig I’ve ever
had!”

Most of the guys and their
significant others had already arrived, the living room cluttered with warm
bodies immersed in meaningless conversation. An eruption of laughter echoed
from the kitchen. And that’s when he saw her. She was surrounded by several of
the wives, talking, laughing; looking as though she didn’t have a care in the
world…

That’s right, Womack, she looks like
a woman with no more distractions…

He’d told himself he wouldn’t ambush
her—at least not at first. Apparently his body didn’t get the memo; before he
became conscious of it, he was on the move, his body on a direct collision
course with the woman he loved.

“Hey ladies”, he announced as he
approached. The handful of women all greeted him in unison as he turned toward
Olivia. “How are you doing?”

Revealing a smile that didn’t quite
reach her eyes, she replied, “I’ve been great.”

“Good. I’m… I’m really glad to hear
that…”

There was an awkward silence as the
crowd of females gawked at the spectacle before them. His feelings for this
woman were clearly written all over his face and for the first time in his
life, he didn’t care.

“You know what?” Lana Phillips
interjected. “I left my phone in the car. I think I’d better go get it.”

“Yeah, I think I left my drink out on
the patio”, Tonya woods remarked as she strolled toward the French doors.

“Wait up—I’ll go with you.”

“Me, too”, announced Jenny Carson.

Suddenly, it was just the two of
them.

“I thought they’d never leave”, he
said as he revealed a mischievous grin. Olivia smiled too—not the fake smile
she’d pasted earlier—but a real,
genuine
smile that brightened her
delicate features and warmed his heart.

His eyes perused her body. She was
wearing a plum-colored blouse that complimented her soft tanned skin; a slim
pair of dark denim jeans that emphasized her delectable curves and a pair of
black suede stilettos. Her hair was set in soft voluminous curls, reminding him
of how it appeared the night she’d transformed into a sexy referee.

 And those lips…

 Plump. Supple. Irresistible.

 They were layered with a shiny peach
gloss and he wondered if they tasted as delicious as they appeared…

Of course they did. That was a stupid
fucking question, Womack.

Yeah, it was.

“You look
beautiful”, he finally managed to say.

“Thank you.”

Grant leaned his shoulder against the
refrigerator and shoved his hands back into his pockets before he did something
really stupid: reach for her. “I was… hoping that maybe we could talk later,
you know? After everyone leaves? I… really miss you, Livvy.”

Olivia stared into his mesmerizing
eyes, the radiant blue hue unable to camouflage the anguish he was
experiencing.

Nor the love.

The doorbell rang, jolting her back
to reality. “I can’t, Grant. I’m sorry, but I’ve already made plans.”
Plans
to push you even further away…

“Oh—”

“—Hey Olivia, you ready?”

Grant glanced over his shoulder…
Jarrod James stood behind him, his eyes hungry for a taste of
his
Livvy.

“Yeah, let me just grab my purse.”
Olivia reached behind her on the counter for her black leather clutch and when
she turned around, the betrayal on Grant’s face nearly suffocated her.

Was this some kind of a sick joke? He
was a “
distraction”, but Jarrod wasn’t?
Grant tilted his head
back toward Jarrod. “What’s this all about?” He inquired
through clenched teeth.

“Dinner, Grant—I’m hungry…” Olivia placed
her free hand on his forearm and squeezed. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

Glancing over her shoulder, Olivia
took in the view from their table along the deck. The moon’s reflection
glistened in the calm Gulf and the rhythmmic cadence of gentle waves colliding
against the wood pilings below lulled her. She allowed her mind to settle in a
brief reverie: the night everything changed.

Two months earlier, she’d sat across
from Grant at this very table on their first date, unaware that their casual
intentions would evolve into something so authentic. So rare. Closing her eyes,
she recalled that evening: dinner, the Ferris wheel ride, their kiss…

“You alright?” Jarrod asked
kindheartedly. “You haven’t said much since we sat down.”

Olivia turned her attention back to
Jarrod. Under different circumstances, the attractive blonde man sitting to her
right would’ve easily absorbed her attention. But somehow, no matter how hard
she tried, she couldn’t forget about Grant.

She was being unfair—she knew; there
were plenty of single women who’d happily trade places with her right now.
Plenty of women who’d give anything for Jarrod to aim his dark gaze in their
direction.

“I’m sorry”, she uttered as she
smiled. “I guess I just got lost in the beautiful view.”

“It is a beautiful view—although I’m
not sure if we’re referring to the same scenery”, he said as he gave her a
wink.

Olivia nervously tucked her hair
behind her ear and attempted to steer the conversation toward a safer topic.
“How long have you been a firefighter?”

“About three years”, Jarrod replied.

“And what did you do before that?”
Olivia asked before she took a sip of wine.

“Played football.”

Olivia tilted her head. “Let me
guess: quarterback?”

Jarrod smiled. “You’re good—how’d you
know?”

“I don’t know”, she said as she
shrugged her shoulders, “you just look the part, I guess. You have a lot in
common with Randall, ya know; he was our quarterback in high school and then
went on to play at the local community college.”

 She observed him for a few moments.
His eyes seemed to glaze over as though he were reliving one of his fondest
memories, and then his brows furrowed. “So you stopped playing after
graduation?”

Jarrod shrugged his shoulders.
“Injured my shoulder at the start of my senior year in college. By the time it
healed, no one was interested in taking a chance on me.”

She could almost feel disappointment
radiant off him in waves. Instinctively, she reached out and grabbed his hand.
“I’m really sorry, Jarrod.”

Shrugging his shoulder again, he
stroked the stubble along his jaw with his free hand. “Ah, it’s alright. Guess
it just wasn’t meant to be…”

The waitress
suddenly appeared, gently placing
their meals in front of them. And
after refilling their water glasses and handing Jarrod another beer, she
disappeared inside.

“Wow! This looks delicious!” she
acknowledged as she removed her hand from his grip.

“Trust me, it is”, he shared. “Is
this your first time here?”

“Um… no. No, I’ve been here before.
Once…”

With Grant… our first date…

“Alright, now it’s my turn to ask
twenty questions”, he informed her as he placed his beer back on the table.

“Okay, I guess that’s only fair. What
do you wanna know?”

“Everything…”

Groaning, Olivia slowly reached for
the phone. “Hello?”

“You up?” Grant asked.

“Well, I am now—”

“—Good. Get dressed; I’ll be there in
fifteen minutes to pick you up. We’re having breakfast.”

Olivia sighed. “Grant, can I take a
rain check?” she asked as she massaged her temple with her free hand.

“No. Now you have fourteen minutes.
I’ll see you then.”

She really didn’t need this right
now. What she needed to do was  turn over and go back to bed! She’d taken a
dose of Benadryl after she’d returned from dinner with Jarrod last night,
hoping it would knock her out so she’d sleep. It worked—maybe a little too
well. She felt groggy, her mind clouded in a drowsy fog. But she knew Grant; he
wasn’t going to take “no” for an answer.

 And after what she did to him last
night, she didn’t exactly blame him.

Every time she closed her eyes, she
saw the look of bewilderment on his face when he realized she was going to
dinner with Jarrod. She hated herself for doing that.

Hated that she’d had to.

Rising from bed, she quickly dressed
in a black velour jogging suit, brushed her teeth and pulled her long hair back
into a loose ponytail. As promised, he arrived in exactly fourteen minutes.

He’d taken her back to his beach
house, a dozen doughnuts from Anderson’s Bakery awaiting them on the back
patio. Sitting next to him, absorbing the luminous rays of the rising sun,
revived her.

Her eyes quickly roamed over the
picturesque landscape, and then they became transfixed on the man beside her.
His jaw was clenched tight: an at
tempt to
simmer his growing temper. She kept
waiting for him to lose it, to slam
his fist against the table and yell. But he didn’t.

Instead, he shocked her by keeping
the aura light and easy—as though last night had never happened. There was no
mention of Jarrod; no mention of her odd behavior.

She was sharing some of her fondest
memories of Ty bringing home doughnuts on his way home from shift when she was
a little girl, when Grant inched forward toward her. Raising his hand to her
face, his thumb brushed against the corner of her mouth. She paused in
mid-sentence as he brought his thumb to his lips.

“Mmmm, lemon cream… That’s good. I’ll
have to get that next time.”