Page 21 of Sweet Escape (Whispering Oaks Ranch #1)

Liv’s chair scrapes against the floor as she stands, her hand slipping out of my grip to swipe at her face.

She’s fierce as hell, and so goddamn beautiful.

“Daddy, I love you, but I’m a grown ass woman and I don’t answer to you.

I won’t be cowed over some bullshit grudge you’ve been holding onto for years.

That has nothing to do with me and even less to do with your grandchild. I?—”

“Olivia Bennett-Sullivan!” Lottie says. “You watch your mouth when you’re speaking to your father!”

“Is that all you care about, Mom? My language? Not the fact that I’m having a baby? Not whether or not your only daughter is happy?”

Keeping my composure, I stand, pulling her to me with a hand on her hip. My anger grows the longer Nick stares at us with something like disgust reflected on his face.

“Are you sure it’s his?” Lottie’s jaw clenches as her eyes dart to where my hand rests. “What about Jake?”

“Jake was too busy with Amber to pay me any attention. And Wilder?—”

“How far along are you?”

“Ten weeks. It happened on the way back.” She glances at her father.

His face is a mask of cold indifference.

“It doesn’t really matter how we got here,” Liv says. “This is happening, and I need you to get over your petty rivalry and support us.”

“Like hell!” Nick exclaims.

Liv slams her palms onto the table, rattling the dishes.

“Screw this. I don’t have to stay here and listen to this.

I’m excited abou t this baby, about becoming a mother.

You two are acting like this is the worst thing in the world when it should be celebrated.

You, of all people, should understand that, Mom.

” Liv’s eyes widen, and her hand whips up to cover her mouth.

A stunned silence falls over the table, so quiet you could hear the wind rustling the grass outside the window if you listen close enough.

Lottie’s face turns from anger to anguish as she mirrors Olivia’s posture. “You don’t speak about Ben. Ever. My son…” She chokes out a sob. “I can’t do this. Olivia… we need time. I’ll call you.”

“Mom,” she whispers.

“Give her space, Liv,” Archie says, placing his hand over hers on the table. “It’ll be okay.”

We both sit, watching in stunned silence at the retreating backs of Olivia’s parents. Something wet lands against the back of my hand, drawing my attention away from the door to the tears tracking down Olivia’s cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, but it’s too late. They’re already gone, and Olivia is falling apart at the seams.

Rosie circles the table and wraps her in a hug from behind. “They’ll come around. Just give them time.”

“This isn’t how I wanted it to go. I wanted them to be happy for me,” she says, her voice cracking with each syllable. “I think I just want to go home.”

Rosie gives a solemn nod. “Alright. Let me wrap some of this up for you to take with you. I made way too much food for nobody to eat.”

“I’m sorry, Grammy. I didn’t mean to ruin family dinner.”

“Oh, hush. You didn’t ruin anything. You know your mama and daddy are stubborn as all get out, but they love you, and they’ll realize their mistake before long.”

After one more lingering hug for her granddaughter, she sends us on our way with a large container of fried chicken and all the fixings. It’s way more food than either of us can eat.

I follow Olivia up to her apartment through the narrow staircase at the back of the diner.

The open-plan living room is sparse and not at all what I pictured her apartment looking like.

There isn't a single trace of Olivia’s bright personality here, just a collection of threadbare furnishings and the occasional family photo.

It’s the home of someone suspended in a state of uncertainty, stuck between their old life and the new one they were forced into.

She places her container on the counter and leans back against the island. “You don’t have to stay on my account. I’ll be fine.”

She’s putting on a brave face, but I know the second I’m out that door, she’ll crumble. I won’t let that happen.

“Will you? Because it seems to me you could use a friend right now.”

She sighs. “I survived Jake. I’ll survive this, too.”

“You did. You’re strong as hell, and I know you think you don’t need me, but I’m staying anyway. That couldn’t have been easy, and I want to be here for you. Let me.”

She chews on the inside of her cheek, her face pulled down into a frown. “I don’t want to keep you from Emmy. You have a family to get back to.”

“You’re my family now, too.”

The tears begin to fall in earnest, and I don’t waste any time rounding the island and pulling her against me as violent sobs rack her body.

She clings to me for support, and I let her cry out every ounce of pain.

If I could take it all away, add it to the mountain of sorrow that lives inside me, I’d gladly do it.

I hold her until her cries turn to slow, even breaths.

“I’m sorry. You’re always the one holding me together.” The words are muffled against my shirt, but the agony is unmistakable .

I wish I could fix things for her. I wish I had the words to reassure her it would be all right.

I smooth a hand over her golden locks and dip down to place a chaste kiss on her forehead.

“Don’t be sorry, honey. You’re allowed to feel.

I don’t mind holding you while you fall apart. What are friends for?”

She lets out a small, humorless laugh. “You still want to be my friend after everything you’ve witnessed?”

“It’s going to take a helluva lot more than some tears and a showdown with your parents to convince me to let you go. Besides”—I palm her lower belly—“you’re kind of stuck with me.”

She opens her mouth to speak, but the loud rumbling of her stomach cuts her off.

I laugh. “Why don’t you go relax, and I’ll reheat dinner for us.”

“It’s my apartment. I can do it.”

“Let me take care of you.”

She takes a step back and crosses her arms over her chest in defiance. I have to stop my eyes from wandering to her cleavage.

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself,” she says.

“Are you always this argumentative?”

“Are you always this domineering?”

I cage her against the counter and lean in next to her ear. “Be a good girl and do as you're told.”

My breath fans over her neck, and she shivers.

“Fine. But only because I’m too hungry to argue with you.” She stalks out of the kitchen, and this time I do let my eyes wander—to the globes of her ass and the sway of her hips as she walks. Olivia Sullivan is under my skin, and I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to resist her.

My fingers play with the strands of her hair as she leans her head against my shoulder on the ragged sofa in her tiny apartment, our empty plates abandoned on the coffee table. It’s a shame the Sullivan family dinner went south. Rosie’s cooking is even better when it’s hot out of the oven.

“Do you know what happened between our families?” Olivia asks.

“Not much. I know they both bid on the same parcel of land, and my dad outbid yours. There was some kind of flood in one of your dad’s fields, and he needed to subsidize some of the income lost. Your dad and mine had words.

They never spoke again after that.” A comfortable silence settles between us, and I rest my chin on the top of her head, my breath ruffling her hair. “Give them some time.”

Again, she doesn’t speak, her fingertips making swirling patterns on the throw pillow she placed on her lap. I wish I could see her face to know she’s okay.

“It’s getting late,” she murmurs. “Do you need to head home?”

“I have some time. Why? You gonna miss me?”

“Maybe a little. I’m…not ready to be alone yet.”

I place two fingers under her chin and tilt her head at a slight upward angle. Her blue eyes have deepened somehow. I could get lost in their depths. My lips touch her forehead in a tender kiss.

“Did you want kids?” I ask. “Before, I mean.”

“I did. I do. I don’t regret how it happened.”

“I always wanted Emmy to have a sibling. Shame we didn’t have the chance to join the mile high club, though. ”

She sits up quickly, spinning to face me. “You would have done… that?”

“Liv, I wanted to take you the second your ass touched the seat.”

“I call bullshit. I was a mess.”

“A beautiful mess… all gorgeous curves and that sassy fucking mouth. I’m getting hard just thinking about it.”

She swats my chest with the back of her hand, but her eyes are full of fire. “Down, boy. I’m exhausted.”

“It was worth the wait,” I murmur against the shell of her ear, eliciting an involuntary shiver. I study her face as she stifles a yawn, her gaze unfocused. “I should go. Let you get some sleep.”

She chews on the inside of her cheek, and I know instantly what she needs before she even says a word.

“Unless you want me to stay,” I say. “Just until you fall asleep?”

“Please.”

I pull her head to my chest and reach behind us to drape a massive crochet blanket over her legs. “You never have to beg, Pretty Girl. Well… not for this, anyway.”

Her soft laugh is muffled by my shirt as she sinks further into me. “This is nice,” she murmurs.

“Go to sleep, Livie.”

“‘Night, Big Guy.”