Broken Hero Page 6

  What hurts more is that none of my coworkers have been in touch. It ended ugly between me and the spa, sure, but the fact that no one reached out at all… Not even a single, short text message. I'd spent nearly every lunch break laughing with Lindsey and Tom, but they dropped me immediately after the news broke.

  I’ve made new friends in Claremont. Sarah was as sweet as she was occasionally mad, and she gives me her full support in nearly every creative idea I have. I’ve gone from being unemployed to essentially running my own little spa. Mandy and I have eaten lunch a couple of times over the last week and it turns out that we have a lot in common.

  And then there’s Oliver.

  I didn’t know why, couldn’t pinpoint the reason, but I feel alive when he’s around. The way his eyes settle on me without mercy or pretense—as if he sees everything I am. Or maybe it’s the fact that he is nearly a head taller than me and so handsome it stops you dead in your tracks.

  I’ve been hooked from the beginning; from the first time he came into the bakery.

  I’m sure it got old—he had to have learned to recognize the tell-tale signs, the blushing cheeks and the lingering looks. The sudden pause in a woman’s conversation when she sees him. I’ve seen it myself with some of the female guests catching sight of him striding across the courtyard, though Oliver never seemed to care.

  If he’d been living in a bigger city, he would have women throwing themselves his way. Maybe he does, even out here. It wouldn’t surprise me.

  It doesn’t help, either, that he seems so modest about his good looks. He could exploit them to high heaven and yet I haven’t seen the trace of a girlfriend or a female friend.

  I shake my head and return my focus on what’s before me. Treating a neck and shoulders damaged from hours in front of a computer has been a daily occurrence at all places I've worked at. So many people spend months living with headaches and poor sleep, all from tensions here.

  I grab a hot towel from the towel warmer and gently wipe away most of the massage oil from my client’s upper back. She groans again, and I smile. “You’ll be sore here as well, now. Do you have a heating pad at home, by any chance?”

  “Yes. I use it across my stomach sometimes.”

  “Try warming it up and draping it over your shoulders after a long day of work. It’ll help your muscles relax after the continuous strain from computer work.”

  She thanks me and I leave the room, gently shutting the door behind me to let her dress and finish up. The room outside is beautiful. Soft flooring, soft lighting—a sofa for waiting. Through the floor to ceiling windows in the back, there's a wide-open view to the meadows. The tall grass is golden under the midday sun.

  I’d been so lucky in coming here.

  After Anna leaves, I toss the used towels in the laundry and make sure to leave the space clean and locked. I triple-check that the lights are off and the hot tub isn’t running: everything’s in order. I’m running a one-woman spa and the buck stops with me.

  The sunlight is warm on my face and the scent of freshly mowed grass hangs in the air. I never want to leave this ranch. It has everything—everything I had missed in Dallas but never admitted to myself.

  Grabbing my home-made lunch, I make my way through the buildings. It took me days just to stop getting lost in the vastness of the Morris Ranch, the many outhouses and pens and cabins.

  I stop at the sound of a horse neighing loudly. Jack and Tim are working with one of the mares, using a long-line to warm her up. They wave hello and I hold up my lunch bag.

  “You guys up for a break anytime soon?”

  Tim hands the reins to Jack and jogs towards me. “I wish! We have to prepare some of the horses for a party of trail riders this afternoon.”

  I shield my eyes from the sun and smile at his sweaty, happy grin. “Sounds fun.”

  “How was your first client? How did it go?”

  “It went great!”

  He high fives me and runs back to the pen with a see you later! I really had lucked out with this place. The entire place is youthful, driven by kind-hearted, hard-working people. Mandy already spoke about a barbecue in a few weeks.

  After circling around the low stables, I finally arrive at my destination. The ranch overlooks a wide sloping field of wildflowers. It continues for ages, the edge disappearing in a haze of trees. I don't know why it hasn't been converted into a field for crops, but I'm happy it hasn't.

  There’s a cute two-story house here, too. It’s white and wooden with a wrap-around porch and blue-shuttered windows. I take a seat on the bench beneath the porch, overlooking the meadow.

  I'm sure there are guests staying inside, but out here is a free-for-all, I reckon. I begin to eat my sandwich, accompanied by cicadas and sunshine. The sun on my skin feels like summer and new beginnings.

  I’m deep in thought when a shadow bounds past. Austin stops dead in his tracks in front of me, his tail starting to wag.

  “Hey there, buddy.”

  Austin pads closer and I rub his dark ears. Border Collies really are some of the best dogs. His head cocks to the side as he looks at the food in my hand.

  "I can't give you any of this, you know. I'm sure it has a bunch of stuff that's not good for you." I look down at my pastrami sandwich and back to his pleading puppy eyes. “I’ve never had a pet, so I don’t know. Can you digest sesame seeds? Blink once for yes, twice for no.”

  Austin blinks zero times.

  I sigh. “I’ll have to err on the safe side, buddy. Sorry.”

  A deep voice rings out behind me. “Austin, get back here!”

  The dog bounds off and I watch his movements as he runs past the bench, up onto the porch, and to the waiting side of… Oliver.

  Not-wearing-a-shirt-Oliver.

  Has-a-six-pack-Oliver.

  I blink at him. There’s not a single rational thought in my head. My mind is occupied with the expanse of tan skin and the large, red scar that snakes down his side. His hair is wet and he’s holding a towel. Thank god he’s wearing pants, because the V that disappears down the waistband is distracting enough.

  He looks as surprised as I feel. “Lucy?”

  “Oliver?”

  That’s when I see it—the open door behind him. The lack of a number on the house should have tipped me off, or the fact that there are no perfectly maintained hedges and flower boxes here.

  “Oh my god. This is your house, right? Like, your house-house?”

  “Yes.”

  "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I didn't know, or I wouldn't have…" I grab my backpack and my water bottle. My half-eaten sandwich goes straight back into the bag. "I didn't mean to intrude."

  “Are you having lunch?”

  I nod. “Yes. Sorry.”

  “I need to eat too.” He runs a hand through damp hair. It’s dark when it’s wet, so different from his normal blonde color. “I just need to pop on a shirt, and then I can join you.”

  “Yes. Yeah, sure.”

  “Stay there.”

  I sink back onto the bench and watch as Austin flops down at my feet. He’s panting in the heat and I can relate more than I want to. Get a grip, Lucy.

  Oliver returns with a big pitcher of ice tea, a sandwich of his own and a box of muffins. The scent of soap and man washes over me as he takes a seat next to me, putting the food between us. “Sarah bakes occasionally, and her muffins are pretty good.”

  “Thank you.” I swallow my embarrassment. “I’m sorry, again. I wouldn’t have come here if I’d known.”

  He waves my apology away. “Don’t worry about it. I know this place can be confusing at first.”

  “It can. You must have gotten lost all the time as a child.”

  His small smile is back, the one that tugs at the corner of his lip and hints at the existence of a dimple. “Well, I’ve always had a good sense of direction.”

  I pull my legs back up underneath me and look at his strong profile. “Did you ever play hide-and-seek here with cousins and frie
nds?”

  He nods, and I shake my head. "You must have won a lot, with the home-field advantage."

  Unexpectedly, a triumphant smile spreads across his features. “Every time.”

  I laugh, and his smile grows wider still. The sunlight casts shadows across his sharp, chiseled features. His damp hair curls just slightly at the temples and I force myself to re-focus on my lunch.

  “How did your first treatment go?”

  "Great! I think she really enjoyed it, but hopefully, she'll fill out one of those customer review cards and we can see what I can improve on. It was so great to get back to massaging," I say. "It's been a couple of weeks."

  He nods and unwraps his own sandwich. "You really like it, don't you?"

  It’s not phrased like an accusation, but it’s not filled with understanding, either. “I do. But it’s more about the health aspect, the holistic part of it. So many people don’t take care of themselves and their bodies, or they abuse their muscles in positions they’re just not meant to be in. Taking an hour or two out of one’s day to work out, or to meditate, or to do yoga—that’s life-changing. I don’t want to sound preachy but I think a lot of people could be helped with more self-care.”

  “You like taking care of people.”

  “I like helping people take care of themselves. I know that might sound pretentious, but—”

  “It doesn’t. It sounds very noble, actually.”

  No one has ever used that word to describe what I do, and for a few moments, I have to look very intently at my sandwich to avoid getting misty-eyed. The comments I’d been getting over the past couple of weeks made me sound anything but noble, even though I knew I had done nothing wrong.

  “You okay?”

  I nod. “Yeah. Thank you. How about you? Do you like running this ranch?”

  He takes another bite and looks out across the fields. I thought I’d asked an easy question—not the one I wanted to ask, about his scars and his past and how he must know everything about nobility—but he seems lost in thought.

  Finally, he turns to me. “I do. It’s a challenge, and it’s a lot of responsibility at times, but I don’t think I’m suited for anything else.”

  His answer makes me sad, but I nod anyway. “Well, don’t say that. From what I can see you run pretty much all of this single-handedly. That’s a CEO right there.”

  Oliver scoffs, but he catches on to my teasing. “Forbes called about a profile last week, but I turned them down.”

  “You’re not in it for the fame?”

  He shakes his head, face magnanimous. “It’s about the people, Lucy.”

  We grin at each other. I’d found Oliver attractive before, but with a wide smile on his face? It transforms him completely. The dimple I’d only seen hints of is on full display, his eyes sparkling. The fact that he seems to laugh so rarely is a crime, but if he did it more often, I was in real danger of becoming yet another woman falling at his feet.

  “So, tell me,” he says. “What’s best—working at the bakery or working here at the ranch?”

  I shake my head. “No, no, that’s not a fair question. You can’t ask me that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because in one option I work with my family! I can’t choose.”

  “You’ll be hard-pressed to find a person in this town who gossips less than I do,” he offers. “Mrs. Masters and I are barely on speaking terms. Your secret is safe with me.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “I know what you’re doing.”

  He looks innocent. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You want me to admit that working here is the best.”

  “I would never fish for praise,” Oliver says. “I was raised better than that.”

  I laugh again. “Sure you were. But… and you promise it’s just between us?”

  He nods, and his eyes are serious now, as if this whole thing wasn’t just a silly joke. “I promise.”

  “Working here is great. I love it. I actually love it… just as much as I love selling bread in town.”

  Oliver groans. “Coward.”

  He reaches for one of the muffins and I watch as he peels back the parchment paper. His hands are broad across the back, nails short, the skin slightly rough. They’re the hands of a man who works. His body was the same, from what I’d seen—the body of a man who uses it daily. They’re his tools, and he’s in full control over both.

  I grab my own muffin and we fall into companionable silence.

  He clears his throat. “So, why did you come to Claremont?”

  Oh.

  I look down at the muffin in my hand, the small bits of raspberry, the white chocolate chips. The story is long and not particularly flattering and I really want to leave it all behind.

  “I wanted to get away from the city for a while,” I say. “I wanted to…”

  “Escape?” His face is impassive, but his eyes are softer.

  I nod. “Yeah.”

  “This place is good for that. It’s a retreat, after all.”

  I snort. “You’re right.”

  He reaches out, his fingers just barely touching my cheek as he brushes a strand of hair back behind my ear. He’s so close that I can see the small specks of light in his blue eyes.

  “Well,” he says. “You’re welcome to use this as an escape for as long as you need it.”

  8

  Oliver

  I watch Lucy walk away from the farmhouse, her bag slung across her shoulder, bare legs tickled by the too-high grass. She smelled of citrus and was easy to talk to and hell if I wasn’t hot for her. I wanted to slide my fingers through her hair and pull her close, and then closer still.

  I could swear that her eyes flicked down my chest earlier. She’d seen my scars for sure—at least some of them. But she hadn’t asked, even if I could guess what she was thinking.

  She'd come to Claremont to run from something or someone, and I’ll make sure she has a job here for as long as she needed it. But I don't for a minute think she'll stay for long.

  But she’d still laughed at my jokes and smiled as if she didn’t want to be anywhere else. It had been a long time since anyone had been that comfortable around me who wasn’t my direct family or my Marine buddies.

  When I’d come back to this town, it was like it had changed shape. I didn’t fit here anymore. The light, pleasant conversations I’d grown up having with these people felt torturous now. I wasn’t who I’d been before, and no one knew how to deal with that—least of all me.

  But Lucy didn’t know me from before.

  She only knew me from now.

  And she still found me funny.

  My last relationship had practically been over before it began. I was emotionally unavailable, she’d said. There, but not really there. She’d cried when I woke up from a nightmare once and I’d had to comfort her, still sweaty from the experience myself. She’d left me after a few months and gotten upset that I hadn’t seemed sad by the split. The last I heard, she was married now, living a few towns over. Good for her; one of us should find happiness.

  Since her, I hadn’t seen the point in even trying. I wasn’t boyfriend material, not husband material—I could never be like Sarah’s husband John.

  I knew all of this, but my mind kept returning to thoughts of Lucy, like a broken record on repeat. I saw her eyes widen, I felt the silkiness of her hair through my fingers, and my body grew hot and tense as I imagined how she’d feel in my arms. It had been so long since I’d felt a woman’s soft body against mine.

  Hours later, she’s still present in my mind—even with Logan in my office, a beer in his hand. He leans back in his chair. “The spa turned out really well.”

  “It did. All thanks to your electrical work, of course.”

  He raises his beer. “Anything for you, man. I also managed to get a look at the girl that Gavin got you riled up about. Lucy?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well…” he pauses. “Let’s just s
ay that I can see why you got angry.”

  I put down my beer.

  Logan looks at me for a moment before he breaks into laughter. “Okay, okay, but Oliver, you’ve been dropping hints about Mandy since I got back. I have to give as good as I get, man.”

  “It doesn’t matter, anyway. She’s too young.”

  “And what are you, middle-aged? You’re thirty-three. Get your head out of your ass.”

  “She’s…light.” I frown, not knowing how to explain it the right way. “Anyway, you know I’m shit with women.”

  Logan bangs his hand against the table. “And that’s just astounding to me. You literally don’t have to lift a finger and they flock anyway.”

  Plenty of my fellow Marines had been big on sleeping around, same as the guys I'd played football with back in college. I'd tried it, and it had been surprisingly unsatisfying. "You know that lifestyle is hollow, man."

  He looks away, and I can see his jaw tense. “I know. Mama raised you right, and all that?”

  The door to my office opens and Sarah bursts in. She takes a long-suffering look at Logan and me, her gaze flicking between our beers.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think the two of you don’t have any work to do.”

  Logan gives her a crooked grin, one he’s always been able to charm her with. “Just making sure Ollie doesn’t work himself into an early grave.”

  Her eyes soften as she glances back at me. I know she worries about me—she has for years—even though I'm the older brother.

  It's another piece of guilt for me to carry around.

  “What do you want?”

  She puts a thick piece of paper on the table. I recognize the Morris logo, but not the cursive script scrawled across it. "Lucy's first client left a rave review. I looked her up, and she actually writes for a newspaper in New York."

  “We should ask if we can put the review on the website, for the spa section.”

  Sarah nods. “And who knows? Maybe she just happens to write for the travel section…”