Chapter Six

Olive

I was trying to come up with a new set of lyrics, and I’d taken out the little notepad I usually carried around with me everywhere and was scribbling words on it now. I was thinking of a color that would best describe that guy’s eyes.

It had been at least an hour that I’d been sitting there at the marina now, and I hadn’t noticed the time fly by. I smiled as I thought about the handsome stranger who’d opened the door for me. His bare, delicious torso and that silly bowtie at his neck. His smile. Just a reminder of that scene made me giggle. I was sure I was never going to see him again, so I believed it would be safe to write a song about him. A song he would never have to hear.

It was only when a shadow fell over my notepad that I realized someone was standing over me. I looked up and those same blue eyes were staring back at me. My first instinct was to slap my notebook shut. My heart started racing at the thought that he might have seen my scribbles.

“I’ve been looking for you” were his first words, and I was convinced that I was dreaming. He stepped back a few paces, and that same smile stretched his lips. I gulped,feeling like my throat had suddenly gone dry.

“You were looking for me?” I asked, and my eyes adjusted quickly to him. He wasn’t shirtless or wearing old crushed pants anymore. He was in a pair of fresh jeans and a gray T-shirt and looked like he had recently showered and shaved.

“Yes, I was. I’ve been looking for you for the past half hour, and then I remembered that I saw you walking this way,” he remarked. I noticed the Porsche parked some distance away. I clenched my jaws. He did look like a guy who drove a Porsche.

“Why were you looking for me?” was all I could manage. In the foolish fantasy of my mind, I was already imagining that he would say something likehe couldn’t get me out of my mind, that he thought I was the sexiest woman. I gulped again just at the thought while I waited for him to explain.

“For starters, I’m Cormac,” he said and stretched his hand out to me. I was still sitting, my legs dangling off the edge of the jetty, and I extended my hand and he shook it. His touch made my body sizzle. I drew my hand away, afraid of what I might do if he kept touching me.

“Wait—Cormac, like, Cormac Larkin?” I asked, his words finally registering in my head. I’d never have forgotten the name, after all the stories Pierce had told me about his best friend from Harvard. I also knew that it was Cormac Larkin’s brother’s company that Pierce was working at now.

He smiled in response and watched me as I stood up. I tugged at the hem of my denim dungaree skirt because it had ridden high up my thighs. Cormac’s eyes were on my body now; they traveled from my face down my belly and traced the shape of my legs. He jerked his head up abruptly to look at me again.

“And you must be Olive. I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said, and I couldn’t get a grip on reality yet. This was the guy who my brother had picked to be best friends with? Of all the men in the world—this was the guy he had to make unavailable to me? I was suddenly seething with rage at my brother.

“Likewise,” I replied and blinked rapidly as my bangs got into my eyes.

“You’re a musician, I’ve heard,” he continued and tipped his head toward my guitar case on the ground. I bent to pick it up and adjusted the strap over my back again.

“I suppose I am. Doesn’t feel like it though,” I said with a shrug. Cormac smiled some more and tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“So, why was it that you pretended you didn’t know who Pierce was?” I asked and bit down on my lip. I had somewhat of an idea why that had happened now—Cormac had assumed I was one of the several clingy, lovesick women who Pierce had the habit of sleeping with. He was trying to cover his best friend’s ass.

“Well, as you must have guessed, I am painfully hungover and you caught me at a bad time. I was sleeping and disoriented,” he explained, and even he couldn’t hold back the grin. I grinned at him too and nodded. We were both fully aware of the real reason.

“And why are you here now? Did my brother send you?” I asked, and Cormac stepped forward suddenly. For a moment I thought he was going to pull me into his arms, and my limbs froze. Instead, he reached for the backpack dangling from the crook of my elbow and he pulled it to himself.

“No, he didn’t. I came looking for you myself when I realized who you were, and I figured that I should bring you back to his place. All in good time for Pierce,” he said, and with the backpack thrown over his back, he started walking toward his Porsche. I had no choice but to follow him.

He opened the door for me, and when I sat down, he threw my backpack on the backseat and then leaned over the door to look straight into my eyes.

“If I bribe you with some mac and cheese, can we keep this little mix-up between ourselves?” he asked, and I could feel the muscles in my belly tighten. At that point, while he was looking at me, I would have agreed to anything!

“Depends on the quality of the mac and cheese. I have very high standards,” I replied, and Cormac threw his head back and laughed, before walking around and getting into the driver’s seat beside me.

***

Pierce’s new house was massive and beautiful, and I wouldn’t have expected any less from my brother, who had developed a taste for the finer things in life since he’d gotten into an Ivy League school. But I had barely paid any attention to the house I found myself in now, or the space in the kitchen, nor the array of high-tech appliances it was filled with.

All I could really focus on was the man sitting beside me on a stool at the kitchen island.

I’d watched him while he made us two bowls of mac and cheese, and even though I’d been hungry just a while ago, I couldn’t even think of food anymore.

Our conversation up until now had been casual. He’d asked me how my flight was, what I thought of Brunswick so far, and then I’d asked him about work, which accounted for most of the chunk of our conversation. He tried to fill me in on the kind of work that Pierce and he did for C Scape, and I would have got most of that if I had been paying any attention.

I’d also noticed him looking at me. It was obvious that he was trying to not look, because we were both aware of our mutual connection—Pierce. But I knew that he’d gazed at my legs, at my lips and eyes. Now that he was sitting beside me on a stool, our bodies were only a few inches away, and we’d run out of any new things about C Scape to discuss.

“Do you know how long you’re staying?” he asked, and I licked my lips and shook my head.

“Not really, no. I haven’t bought my return ticket yet. I don’t really have anything to go back to,” I said, and I turned my eyes away from him. It was difficult to keep talking to him while our gazes were locked.

Cormac had a way of capturing my mind and my imagination completely as he spoke to me. It was just easier to frame sentences when I wasn’t looking at him.

“I don’t mean to pry, but I’m guessing it’s not easy to make it as a singer/songwriter in LA,” I heard him say, and when I looked up at him again, I found that his eyes had softened. He wasn’t just making small talk; he was genuinely interested.

Cerulean, that was the blue shade I was looking for—his eyes were a cerulean blue. I couldn’t pull my gaze away from him now.

“No, it’s not easy at all. Especially since nobody seems to be interested in country folk anymore,” I managed to say, even though my lips felt chapped and my throat felt dry. Cormac nodded gently.

“I know what you mean. It’s all electronic now, isn’t it? Give them bass and artificially generated sounds and they’re happy,” he said, shaking his head in disgust, and he stuck a spoonful of mac and cheese into his mouth.

I smiled at that, at his empathy. Based on all the stories I’d heard from Pierce, I hadn’t imagined any of his friends being understanding or this easy to talk to. Cormac was a pleasant surprise—an extremely pleasant surprise! His looks were only one aspect of the many reasons why I was finding myself so violently attracted to him.

“Something like that, yeah,” I commented.He was looking at me again. I was starkly aware of how close together we were sitting. I’d pursed my lips together, and I could feel my cheeks flushing. Cormac’s eyes were searching mine, like he was trying to figure out if it would be appropriate to lean any closer to me.

I wanted to pull him in, to tell him what I wanted, but I was embarrassed and I still wasn’t sure of what he wanted.

“Olive—I wish you weren’t Pierce’s sister,” I heard him say, and he ran a hand through his dark, spiky hair. He’d dropped his spoon back into his bowl, and we were facing each other now. Cormac’s voice had become deep and husky, and I could feel goosebumps on my skin. I gulped.

“Does it matter?” I squeaked the words out, and he clenched his jaws. Cormac wasn’t smiling anymore. His face had darkened and taken on a serious look.

“Doesn’t it?” he asked, and I inched myself toward him, to communicate to him that it didn’t matter to me.

There had been an instant connection between us, which I now knew that he could feel as well.

“You’re my best friend’s sister, and it’s crazy that I wish you weren’t,” he said through his clenched jaws in a deep, guttural growl. My body was screaming to throw itself at him. Just one kiss, just a simple graze of his lips against mine.

I couldn’t say anything more to him; I just couldn’t find the words. I could feel his hot breath falling on my face now, we were that close to each other. I could smell the strong masculine odor of his aftershave. Was it mad that I wanted his arms around me?

Cormac gulped, as his eyes remained fixated on my face. Then he gazed down at my breasts, and I realized that nothing felt as good as being looked at by him. I couldn’t believe this desperate physical urge to touch someone I barely knew, who I’d met just a few hours ago.

We both heard the footsteps at the same time. Shoes brushing against marble floor. I looked up and Cormac turned toward the kitchen door at the exact moment that Pierce walked in.

I could feel my neck burning up, my eyes stinging with embarrassment. Pierce was at the kitchen door, glaring at us because he knew exactly what was going to happen if he hadn’t walked in.