Page 50 of Sweet Escape (Whispering Oaks Ranch #1)

Wildest Dreams

? Love You Anyway - Luke Combs

Olivia

I wake up with Emmy wrapped around me, her snores filling the silence of the frilly pink bedroom fit for a princess.

I almost can’t bring myself to leave her, but I don’t want to be here when Wilder returns to check on her.

I know he peeks through her door every night, waking from his restless sleep to make sure she’s okay.

I know because I’m a light sleeper, and he always looks into my room, too.

At least, he did until he shut me out. It feels a lot like he’s stopped caring, and the weight of that knowledge sits heavy on my chest.

I pad into the kitchen, letting the dim light above the stove guide me.

The pantry is well stocked with my baking supplies.

I gather everything I need for my cowboy cookie recipe and set to work mixing the ingredients.

Even without the use of my stand mixer, everything comes together perfectly.

I fill two of my biggest baking trays, sliding them into the preheated oven as the golden glow of the early morning sun peeks through the gingham curtains in the kitchen window.

While I wait for the timer to go off, I settle at the island with a cup of coffee and a bowl of Cheerios.

I managed to convince Wilder that a single dose of caffeine every morning wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, and he made me promise to only drink decaf the rest of the day.

It was our first co-parenting compromise.

Sitting here in his home, feeling out of place for the first time, I wonder if our next compromise will involve visitation.

I can’t imagine living here while he actively pushes me away.

A door creaks down the hallway, and I don’t have to look up from my bowl to know it’s him. My body is finely attuned to his presence, sparking to life instantly. I wish it wouldn’t.

He’s in a pair of low-slung grey sweats and one of his Whispering Oaks tees. His hair is wet from his morning shower.“Morning, Cupcake. Something smells good.”

“I’m making cowboy cookies. They’ll be ready in about—” The oven timer goes off. “Now.”

I move to stand, but he stops me with a hand on my lower back. It’s the first time he’s touched me like this in weeks, and it’s over far too quickly.

“I’ll get them out,” he says.

“You don’t have to.”

“I know, but I'm going to.” He places the pans on the cooling racks I’ve already laid out, then grabs himself a cup of coffee, leaning back against the counter across from me. “They look incredible. What’s in them?”

“It’s basically an oatmeal chocolate chip cookie base with coconut, cinnamon, and pecans. Is anybody allergic to nuts? I was thinking I might take some to the guys.”

“That’s really sweet. They’d love that. Nobody has any allergies that I’m aware of. ”

The conversation is stilted, like two strangers meeting for the first time. I hate it.

As if he has a direct line to my thoughts, he says, “I’m sorry, Liv.”

“What are you sorry for?”

“So many things, but most of all pushing you away. I never intended to hurt you.”

“Somebody once told me it’s not about the intention.”

“Wise man.” A slight smirk tugs up one corner of his lips. I see it then, the dark circles under his eyes and the beard that’s so obviously in need of a trim. He’s tormented, and my presence may be making things worse.

Turning my attention back to my breakfast, I say, “I should move back to the diner. It’s been ready for a while now.”

“No. I don’t want that.”

“Wilder—”

“Let me explain. Please. If you still want to move out after that, I can set up the guest cabin out here so we’re still close by. But I really don’t want that, either.”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

“I got scared. That day with you and Emmy in the field, it made me feel too much all at once. Made me realize how close we’d gotten, and how broken I’d be if I ever lost you.”

“So, you hurt me instead? Did that make you feel any better?”

“I was selfish. I want you here, Liv. In my home…” He pauses, indecision playing across his features. “And in my bed.”

Anger and frustration course through me, and I stand abruptly. “I won't be some toy for you to use and discard at will!”

He surges forward, trapping me between him and the island.

“You misunderstand me. I want you in every way. As the mother of my c hild, and as my partner. I want you in my room because I want to sleep beside you every night. We can make your room into the nursery for Gracie, and when the kids are fast asleep, I’ll lay you down in our bed and show you just how much you mean to me. ”

“Please don’t say things like that to placate me. I won’t take Gracie away from you if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He shakes his head and swipes a hand through his hair. “That never even crossed my mind for a single second.”

“It’s fine. I can move to the guest house, and you can still make up the nursery here. I’m ok with being friends. Just… don’t shut me out again.”

He palms my hip and pulls me against him. “I don’t want to be friends, Olivia Sullivan.”

“What do you want from me?” My voice is small, all the emotions I carefully tucked away spilling out of me at once.

He cups my jaw, his thumbs gliding reverently over my cheekbones to capture my tears.“Everything you’re willing to give.”

My heart gives an involuntary squeeze. It’s everything I’ve been dying to hear for months, but it’s not enough after what he put me through.

My instincts tell me to lean into him, to take what he’s offering, but there’s a much larger part of me that’s afraid he’ll change his mind. I’ll be discarded all over again.

With a resigned sigh, I whisper, “It’s going to take some time for me to trust you won’t hurt me again.”

“But you’ll stay?”

“I’ll stay.”

The daisies keep showi ng up, but so does Wilder. Every day he asks me if I’ll move into his room, and every day I tell him I need more time.

On days when he isn’t up at the crack of dawn, he brings me breakfast in bed. On those other days,he leaves a mason jar of cold brew in the fridge with a sticky note directing me to my breakfast.

Sometimes it’s something simple like cereal or pastries. Other days, it’s overnight oats full of honey and chocolate chips. He knows I often struggle with decision paralysis, and he’s taken it upon himself to help with that.

He’s slowly chipping away at my resolve, one sweet gesture at a time, anticipating my needs before I even have to ask.

One particular morning, he finds me in the kitchen as I’m finishing my breakfast. He slides a manila envelope across the counter. “This is for you.”

The packet is unassuming, and I can’t discern anything without looking inside. I slide open the flap and pull out a small stack of papers. It takes a moment to register what I’m looking at. When it finally sinks in, my jaw drops, and I suck in a sharp breath.

The first few pages are everything I need to dissolve my previously registered LLC for the bakery that never came to fruition.

The second stack of papers will register the same LLC in Kentucky.

It’s the last few pages that hit me like a ton of bricks.

There’s a purchase receipt for a vintage tagalong camper trailer, and a permit registration form for mobile food sales.

“It’s a blank slate,” he says. “You can do what you want with it. The paperwork just needs a name for the business and your signature.”

He must be waiting for me to respond, but I can’t speak. My throat feels tight, and my eyes are misty.

“I hope I didn’t overstep,” he says. “There’s no pressure. We can turn the ca mper into something else if you don’t like it.”

“Don’t like it?” My brows draw together, and I give him a watery smile. “I love it.”

“Yeah?”

I come around the counter and wrap my arms around his waist. It’s the most we’ve touched in weeks, and it feels so good.

He rests his cheek on my head and inhales. “You’re going to paint it pink, aren’t you?”

I laugh. “Maybe. Ok, definitely.”

“Still wanna call it Lick the Spoon?”

“Hell yeah, I do.”

He kisses the side of my head, then steps away, offering me his hand. “Come on.”

I let him guide me outside into the early fall air, stopping at the bottom of the porch steps. “Close your eyes,” he says. “I mean it. I’ll know if you’re peeking.”

Gravel crunches underfoot as he leads me somewhere completely blind. The smell of hay and horses, what I’m beginning to recognize as the scent of home, envelopes me. It doesn’t take long to get where we’re going.

“Ok. You can look now.”

When I open my eyes, the sight that greets me is a large white vintage camper with a pink stripe around the middle.

“There’s no rush to get it set up,” he says. “We can wait until after Gracie is here, or you can start planning right away. It’s completely up to you.”

Without thinking, I practically throw myself at him, and he catches me around the waist. A deep chuckle escapes him just before I plant my mouth on his for the first time in weeks.

He growls against my lips and takes me hungrily. “Fuck, I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” A lone tear escapes, and he kisses it away. “Promise w e’ll never go through something like that again,” I whisper. “I don’t think I could bear it.”

He takes hold of my face and brings his forehead to mine. “I can’t promise we won’t fight, and you’ll definitely get sick and tired of my bossy ass, but I promise I’ll never intentionally hurt you.”

I smile and take a step back. “A+ groveling, Big Guy.”

He chuckles. “Just wanted to show you how much you mean to me.”

“You could’ve done that with a bowl of popcorn and a bag of M&M’s. You didn’t have to go and make my wildest dreams come true.”

“Why not? You are my wildest dream, Olivia Sullivan. You should have yours, too.”

“I already do.”