Ten
Renee focused on keeping her breath steady and even. Okay, it was a little heavy because sex with Oliver was proving to be so much more than she was used to.
That man had scandalously stood her in front of a mirror and made her believe—really believe—that she was pretty and desirable and worth the risk. He was worried about her and he wanted and needed her and he couldn’t keep his hands off her and it was perfect.
Or it had been, right until he’d ruined it.
Oh, she knew he hadn’t meant it as an insult or even a warning. But there was no mistaking that “you destroy me” for what it was—the truth.
Because she would. Sooner or later, she would ruin him. Not on purpose. Never on purpose. But it was inevitable, wasn’t it? Either she was going to do something accidental, like set fire to one or more of his homes, or word would get out about their connection and his reputation would be dragged through the mud.
Knowing her luck, probably both. He thought he understood her messed-up family. But even if things went perfectly from here on out—the press left her alone or her baby’s delivery was textbook or Oliver continued to be wonderful?
Her family would go on trial or her mother would find some way to ruin everything all the way from France because there was no way Rebecca Preston would approve of what Renee was doing. Preparing food? Doing the menial work of washing dishes? Doing something unladylike like pushing a friend into a pond and laughing out loud?
She hoped no one from that fire department went to the press. If her mother could find a way to ruin the little bit of peace Renee was struggling to hold on to, she would. Just out of spite.
She and Oliver were fogging the mirror up with their breaths. She didn’t want to move. She wanted to pretend like everything was fine.
But she was tired of that, too. She’d spent years pretending and she wasn’t going to anymore. At least, she was going to try to not do it as much. She might have to ease into this whole total-honesty thing.
But she definitely wasn’t going to let thoughts of her mother into this room. Rebecca Preston had abandoned Renee long before she’d decamped to Paris. It was high time Renee returned the favor.
She pushed against the mirror and thankfully, Oliver backed up. She shivered from the loss of his body covering hers.
She turned to go to the bathroom just in case she fell apart, but Oliver caught her hand.
“Will you stay with me tonight?”
The smart thing to do would be to say no. He had a guest room. She was a guest.
But then he added, “It’s whatever you want,” and her resolve buckled because honestly, she wanted to spend the night curled in his arms. Whatever this was, it would end badly for all parties involved—she didn’t have any doubt about that.
But the fact was it was going to end badly no matter what. Maybe it was selfish and definitely shortsighted, but she wanted to hold on to this little bit of happiness while she could.
So she brushed her lips against his and said, “I’ll stay,” because he’d done everything in his power to protect her. He’d made her feel good again. For heaven’s sake, he hadn’t even been that upset about the ruined cookies.
By the time she finished in the bathroom, Oliver had carried her bag in. “You’re going to need more clothes,” he said absentmindedly as he stared at the solitary piece of her luggage.
She didn’t exactly have the money for new things, so she said, “It’s not a big deal. I can do laundry.”
Actually, she wasn’t sure she could but that had to be one of those things that came with instructions. At the very least, Lucille should be able to walk her through the process while minimizing fire hazards.
Oliver looked up at her like she might be crazy. He must’ve taken advantage of the other bathroom because, while he had taken off his button-up shirt, he was still in his trousers and undershirt and she was completely nude. There was no missing the appreciative gleam in his eye but she was suddenly tired and feeling self-conscious. Her hands dropped to her thighs, covering the scars, but she thought she did so casually enough that he hadn’t noticed.
If he wasn’t naked, she wasn’t going to parade about. The nightstand on the right side of his bed had the alarm clock, so she walked around to the other side and slid under the covers. She immediately felt better.
“You’re just going to walk around braless? What happens when you need to leave the house?”
That was a good question. Suddenly, she had a feeling that Oliver was going to insist that she allow him to buy her clothes.
Because that’s who Oliver was. If he saw a problem, he was honor-bound to find a solution. She had enough clothes for a week—but in another few weeks, she’d be pushing her luck with the underwear. She had a month, tops, in her yoga pants. Maybe another month in her loose tunic tops. And Oliver was right—eventually, she’d need a bra again. But if anyone caught wind of Oliver buying maternity clothes...
Destroyed. That was the only word for it.
To distract him, she arranged herself on the bed in what she hoped was an inviting way, making sure to suck in her stomach while the sheet fell down off her hips—but stayed above the scars on her thighs. “I thought you requested I not leave.”
“You’re not Rapunzel. I’m not going to lock you in a tower.” His eyes darkened as he looked her over. “Although it’s damned tempting to keep you all to myself for the weekend, at least.”
Tempting. She liked that. She could still be tempting. And she could have him all to herself for the next few days. “What was that about the weekend?”
He made a noise that was part growl, part groan and all need. But then he paused. “Can I get you anything before I join you? Water? A snack?”
And that, in a nutshell, was why she was in Oliver’s bed. “Just you.”
She didn’t have to ask twice. He flung his clothing off and was between the sheets within moments. When he pulled her against his chest and pressed a kiss to her forehead that would’ve been tender if there hadn’t been so much heat packed into it, Renee sighed with pleasure. As soon as she settled in his arms, though, her eyes began to drift closed. It had been a very long day...
When Oliver spoke, she startled back awake. “I have to go to work tomorrow and Friday,” he said apologetically. “I’ve put this meeting off twice and there’s no avoiding it. By Sunday we should know if anyone has connected you to Red Oak Hill. If not, I’d like to take you out. We’ve got museums or movies or the theater or—”
“Gosh, like a real city?” she couldn’t help quipping. She ruined the sarcasm by yawning, however.
“Smart-ass.” But as he said it, he began to stroke her hair. “There’s a pretty park with a pond and ducks about a block away—we can just take a walk. Although I wouldn’t recommend that at high noon, unless you enjoy sweating. Whatever you want—I’m yours for the weekend.”
“I’ll think about it.” She was too damned tired to make any sort of decision right now. It was probably for the best that Oliver was going to work tomorrow. Today had been wild on about six different levels and she needed to recover.
But...there was something she wanted to do before Saturday. “Would it be all right if I called Chloe tomorrow?” So much had happened in the last week—which was saying something, because a lot had happened in the last five months. If she vented to Oliver, she knew he’d listen—but she also knew that he’d try to solve the problem. And she didn’t want to be his problem.
She really needed a girlfriend, which meant Chloe. Frankly, there wasn’t anyone else.
She felt the tension ripple through Oliver but as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone. “I don’t see why not. I’m sure if you explain the situation, she’ll keep your whereabouts quiet. And she’s launching a new clothing line, so she might be able to help with the clothes.”
She smiled against his skin. Even when he wasn’t solving the problem, he was still solving the problem. Men. This man.
Mine, her brain whispered as she yawned again. She was his and he was hers...wasn’t he?
“I’ll call her. But I won’t tell her about us,” she murmured against his chest. She wished Chloe were here, although...if she were, there would be no hiding the fact that Renee and Oliver were sleeping together. Or they were going to, shortly. Very shortly.
As she drifted off to sleep, she thought she heard him whisper, “I doubt that’ll make much of a difference.”
* * *
“You’re where?” Chloe Lawrence squealed in Renee’s ear.
“At Oliver’s condo.” Renee thought it best to leave out any mention of Oliver’s ranch house. “It’s a really long story, but I needed a place to lie low and you’re... Where are you?”
“Omaha.” Then Chloe’s voice got muffled and Renee got the feeling she was giving instructions to someone. “Sorry. Oliver has given me a lot more control over the rodeo—which is great. But it’s a lot of responsibility and combined with the Princess clothing launch...”
Renee exhaled in relief. “Which was exactly why I didn’t try to track you down. I figured I would just hang out here until you came to Dallas and then we could catch up.”
There was a long pause. “I told you not to marry that asshole.”
“You were the only one,” Renee said, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice and failing. It wasn’t Chloe’s fault she’d been right—or that Renee hadn’t listened. She deserved that I told you so. And probably a few others.
“Oliver would’ve told you not to marry him, too,” Chloe said, because even as a kid, she’d never been able to let anything go.
Because this was a telephone call and not a video call, Renee rolled her eyes. “Tell me about the clothing line.” Nothing like a change of subject to dance around the Oliver issue. “Couture or cowgirl?”
“Cowgirl,” Chloe said so firmly that Renee had to wonder if she was insulted by the couture suggestion. “Why?”
So Renee laid it all out as quickly as she could. It was odd that Chloe was more up-to-date on the situation than Oliver had been. But she knew of Chet Willoughby’s suicide—she’d sent flowers. She knew about the pyramid scheme and had sent emails—not a lot, but some—offering Renee support and help if she needed it.
What she didn’t know was how the prosecutors had seized anything that was even remotely close to an asset.
“So all of the designer clothes are gone and even if I still had them, they wouldn’t fit. I’m pregnant. I only brought two bras with me and neither works anymore.” The words your brother doesn’t seem to mind danced right up to the tip of Renee’s tongue, but she bit down on them before they could escape. “Nothing’s going to fit in a few weeks and I might be here longer than that.”
“Man, I long for the days when I can wear nothing but yoga pants,” Chloe said with a sigh. “But I understand the problem. I bet it’s driving Oliver nuts that you’re not in a suit or something. I hope he’s not being a total butthead.”
“He’s...fine.” Which was not a lie. He certainly wasn’t being a butthead. But that left a lot of room around what fine meant. “It’s not like anyone will see me in his condo.”
“Wait—why did he take you to the condo? Why didn’t he take you to the ranch?”
Renee bit her lip. “He did. But I decided I wanted to bake cookies and there was...an incident. The fire department showed up.”
“Did you burn Red Oak Hill down?” Chloe asked in a panic. “He loves that place! And those stupid swans!”
“No, no.” Although just thinking about it—again—made her stomach flip. “It was only some cookies. The swans are fine. It was just smoke.”
Unexpectedly, Chloe began to laugh. “Was Oliver mad? He’s such a stick-in-the-mud.”
That was the thing Renee kept coming back to—he had been upset. But he hadn’t taken it out on her. Instead, he’d treated it more like she’d pulled off a successful, funny prank and he was impressed. She told Chloe the whole story.
Chloe hooted with laughter. “I would’ve paid good money to see that. I knew he was hiding something! If he’d told me you were there, I would’ve tried to get there, even if only for the day.”
“Yeah? I’ll admit, it’d be great to see you.” Of course, Chloe was too smart by half. She’d take one look at Renee and know for sure that she was sleeping with Oliver. “But Oliver’s taking care of me. So you don’t have to worry.”
Chloe made a humming noise and Renee realized she might have overplayed her hand. But then Chloe said, “Hey, the rodeo is coming to Dallas—well, Fort Worth, which is practically the same thing—in three weeks. I’ll be in town for at least five days—longer if I can swing it. You, my friend, are going to spend a few days with me and we are going to catch up. I’m going to take you to the rodeo,” Chloe said in a tone of voice that made it clear this was nonnegotiable. “A pitcher of sangria, unhealthy snacks and—”
“I’m pregnant.” As if anyone could forget that small detail.
“I don’t mind. That’s more sangria for me.” She was quiet for a moment. “Renee, are you sure you’re doing okay? I know Oliver can be grumpy. And rude. And bossy. And—”
“It’s fine,” Renee interrupted. True, Oliver could be all of those things. But far more often, he was encouraging and kind. When he teased her, she could tease right back and feel safe that, instead of telling her she was wrong, he’d laugh with her instead. “And are you sure going to a rodeo is the best idea? I’m supposed to be lying low.”
“It’ll be fine! I’ll send you some Princess clothes to tide you over but when we’re at my place, we’ll try everything on. We’ll get you a fab hat and I’ll tell Oliver to keep an eye on you.” She sighed heavily. “As long as we keep you away from Flash, it’ll be fine.”
“Well...” She remembered Flash being an extremely irritating little brother. There had been lizards involved. But maybe he’d changed. After all, she wasn’t the same little sister she’d been back then, either. “I’d actually love to go to one. I’ve never seen the Princess of the Rodeo in all her glory.” Chloe snorted. “But only if Oliver agrees...” She was pretty sure he wouldn’t.
“Oh, he will,” Chloe said, sounding way too pleased with herself. “It’s his damned rodeo, too. He doesn’t appreciate how awesome it is. If we’re lucky, Flash will get stepped on by a bull. But,” she went on, apparently cheered by that thought, “in the meantime, try not to kill him. I know he’s uptight but it’s just because he never has fun.”
“He doesn’t?” The man who owned a pair of swans named after the Flintstones seemed like he had maybe a little fun at least some of the time.
“He wouldn’t know fun if it bit him on the butt.”
Renee smiled at the memory of Oliver jumping when the swans took offense to his invasion of their pond.
Chloe went on, “I worry about the butthead. All he does is work and micromanage. He argues with Dad constantly about the business. He orders me to keep Flash out of trouble—as if anyone could keep Flash out of trouble,” she added under her breath. “And all he does with Flash is fight. Promise me you won’t let him boss you around.”
Renee let that thought roll around her head. If she hadn’t spent the last few days with Oliver, she would’ve agreed with Chloe’s assessment. Because that’s who Oliver had been, at least in her memory.
Frankly, that was who he’d been at her brother’s wedding and that’d been five years ago. Because she’d tried. She’d struck up a conversation with him and she would’ve asked him to dance, if she’d got to before he’d had so much to drink. Oliver hadn’t tried to boss her around, but he had been the textbook definition of grumpy.
“He’s been great,” she finally said, hoping that wasn’t giving too much away. “Really, I don’t want you to worry about us. I’m more concerned about what to wear to your rodeo.”
There was a moment when she didn’t think Chloe was going to go for that subject change. But then she said, “What size are you?” And they fell into the familiar habit of discussing clothes and sizing.
“I’ll send some samples out for you,” Chloe said. “It’s not what you’d normally wear, but you’ll blend in. And they’re samples. You can’t pay me for them,” she added.
Because Chloe was a real friend, bless her heart. It shouldn’t feel different, accepting this gift instead of one from Oliver. But it did. “Thanks, Chloe. I can’t wait to see you in a few weeks.”
“If Oliver gives you any trouble, call me immediately.”
Renee almost defended Oliver again, but she decided that would only make Chloe more suspicious so instead she said, “I will. Promise.”
She sat there for a moment after the call ended. Chloe’s clothing line didn’t make maternity clothing, but she was going to send things a size or two up, which would give Renee a couple of more months to figure out how she was going to afford everything else she needed. Which meant the only thing she needed to buy on her own was underwear, and she could afford a bra and a few pairs of panties.
She began to browse on her phone. But instead of basic white or nude underthings, she found herself looking at pretty bra and pantie sets. Because Oliver wanted to take her out and show her the town. But more than that, because she wanted to feel pretty. Leggings were great but they weren’t doing much for her ability to look in a mirror and feel good about what she saw. She wanted to be tempting, damn it. And she had about two hundred dollars left in her bank account from the money the feds had allotted her to travel with. New panties it was.
She still heard her mother’s voice, dripping with icy menace as she complained about Renee getting fat. But at least now, she also had the memory of Oliver telling her how gorgeous she was and how he couldn’t keep his hands off her.
She had to choose who to believe. And her mother had never loved her.
Not that Oliver loved her. Of course not. He liked her and he worried about her and that...that was enough.
This whole situation was still a mess. Just like her life. But she couldn’t stop thinking about what Chloe had said—Oliver never had any fun. That picture of him didn’t mesh with him laughing and naked in the mud, or of him insisting that he show her the town.
It was high time they both started having more fun.