Home Matters (A Ripple Effect Romance Novella, Book 1) (10 page)

Pete’s face creased with disappointment. “Suit yourself, but should your schedule happen to open up down the road, my offer stands,” he said, then rushed on to his next thought. “How about for now, you help by telling me which paint works best for this room.” Kneeling down, he popped the tops off two different paint cans. “Travertine or City Lights?”

Her head awhirl with the subjects of grief and loss, then with his offer to work with him, it took her a moment to focus in on the paint colors. “Hmm, the taupe is pretty, and soothing, but then so is the blue.” She tapped a finger to her pursed lips. “I’m thinking the blue.”

The smile he gave her brimmed with pure admiration, which sent her heart spinning, a toy top pinging against her chest. “Me too,” he said. His grin broadened as he stood, a paint roller in each hand.

“You want to help me paint it?”

Lounging on a tarp, Pete supported his upper body on one elbow and looked down at Olivia who lay sprawled on the floor as well, her head resting on his thigh. The walls around them had long been repainted and now glowed with a soft shade of blue. How long they’d been stretched out on the floor talking was anyone’s guess. But in that time span, Olivia had learned that they were both the youngest children in their families, both conversely loved country and first-wave alternative music, ate grits for breakfast, and both had favorite movies that seemed to be films everyone else hated—
Lady in the Water
being exhibit A. He’d grown up on a ranch in Missouri, which wasn’t the South, but close enough that their upbringing with emphasis on community, family, and tradition, felt uncannily similar. Lying here with Pete, she had that sensation of being home again and of unconditional acceptance.

“Favorite Eighties movie?” he asked.

Olivia thought for a moment, but was having a hard time concentrating on anything other than Pete’s sapphire eyes and how the color had been intensified by the freshly painted walls. Finally, she said the first film that came to mind.

“
Pretty in Pink
.”

“Figures,” he scoffed. “Why is it every girl’s fantasy to hook up with the rich guy they’ve already convinced themselves is too good for them? Like winning his love will somehow validate her in the process? If you ask me, both main characters didn’t actually want to find love, they just liked the idea of it. Why else would they go for the only other kid in school they both knew they’d never be able to date without alienating all their friends and family? Like their love could transcend it all? And they’d known each other for what, one date?”

Laughter rolled up from Olivia’s gut. “Wow, you’ve given this a lot of thought, haven’t you?” she teased. “Not only a watcher of Nineteenth Century romances, but of cheesy Twentieth Century first-love films as well.”

Pete shrugged. “It bothers me, the way women are obsessed with dysfunctional love. With wanting the opposite of what’s good for them,” he said, and Olivia got the feeling he was referring more to her, and her attraction to William, than he was to a character in some silly teen film.

But then what did he know about her heart, her goals, and dreams? Nothing. So what if William tended to smoke and drink too much and leaned toward the shallow end of interesting? He’d been a bachelor for years now. All he needed was a little time and the love of the right woman to change all that.

“And like I said, I have three older sisters,” he added, his face twisting into a grimace that spoke volumes.

“Say no more. Let me guess,” Olivia said, waving her hands. “Your sisters fawned over you as a baby and toddler, giving you more attention than you knew what to do with. Then, as you got older, as many boys do, you became a pain in the butt and weren’t so cute anymore, so they stopped fawning over you. In order to regain their attention, you became all the more annoying. After all, negative attention is better than none at all. Am I right? Then, it didn’t help matters that your daddy pushed aside your sisters, focusing all his attention on his only son and heir to the ranch,” she said, and waited while he appeared to be at a loss for words. “I’m close, aren’t I?”

“All right, Smarty-Pants, let me do you now,” he said by way of confirmation. “Your mom wanted a girl, and it took five tries until she got one. She spared no expense showering you with everything you wanted—the pink room with the frilly canopy bed, dolls, and dresses galore. Then she ignored your brothers while she paraded you around to every beauty contest in Tennessee and the surrounding area, attended every cheerleading contest… and so on, and so forth. Your brothers resented you. Sure, they were nice enough when your parents were around but made you pay for it when they weren’t.” He paused to give her a sly look. “But once you got old enough to date, they sat on the front porch, cradling a shotgun, warning your date that anywhere he touched you, they were going to touch him when you guys got home.”

Olivia shook her head. “Shotguns on the porch in Brentwood? No. But the rest? Surprisingly accurate,” she admitted. “Only now that my brothers are all off and married with a slew, or partial slew, of kids, they’ve become much more civilized.”

Pete gave her a long, penetrating look. “I guess that means you’re getting the last laugh,” he said, smiling, though there was no twinkle in his eye. “You’re a big star now, while they’re stuck in suburbia with a ‘slew’ of kids.” His voice took on a haughty edge as he added, “How dreadfully dull.”

“Yeah, dreadful,” she agreed, her fears becoming more apparent under the glaring light of his insight. But then, so what if she’d chosen a career over a house full of kids for now? She was not quite thirty, and there was still plenty of time for her to have a family. But what if her career continued on its current path, which included jet-setting between movie and television sets, possibly being relentlessly stalked by the paparazzi? Did she want to try and juggle a family along with all of that? And if not, could her millions of adoring fans ever be enough to take the place of a tiny set of fingers curling around hers, her reflection mirrored in the sleepy eyes of a precious child?

She glanced at Pete. He always appeared remarkably comfortable in his own skin. But was he? “Why are you on TV renovating houses instead of astride a horse, swinging a rope?” she asked, hoping she wasn’t the only one here confused about her life’s current path.

Pete rolled a shoulder. “Punching cattle wasn’t really for me,” he said, matter-of-fact. “I like to build. Re-imagine.”

And so did she, she’d recently discovered. “I get that,” she said, thinking about how hard it must have been for Pete to walk away from his family’s expectations in order to do what he was obviously born to do. She’d only been an armchair designer for what, a week and a half? But she’d found re-creating a room, even if only on paper, more satisfying than any role she’d played on or off the camera thus far. “You’re very brave,” she began, “I wish I…” but she couldn’t, didn’t even dare to go there.

“You are,” he said, his gaze snagging hers, reeling her into a lingering look of mutual understanding that held long enough to steal her breath and hold it until her head grew light.

Pete was the first to sever the tie. “So… it must be getting pretty late.” He moved to sitting, forcing Olivia to do the same. “I better get back to the site, make sure my guys aren’t goofing around.”

In one swift movement, he hopped to his feet, then reached down, offering Olivia a hand up. She gazed at his outstretched fingers, disappointed that their evening together had come to an end. With hesitance, she grabbed hold. The warmth of his palm rushed up her arm to her chest.

Pete yanked her up to standing, sending her head for a turn. Her feet landed unsteady against the floor. His hands circled her waist to stabilize her, but not before her body had fallen against his chest. He smelled of sawdust, along with a trace of spicy cologne—one hundred percent man.

Shivers of electricity tingled up her spine.

The ghost of a smile hovered on his full lips as he asked, “Are you all right?”

Cheeks pink, bleeding to red with his close proximity, Olivia swallowed down to her purring heart. “I am now,” she said, the words coming out all throaty.

His eyes searching hers, he leaned closer, but then stopped.

Olivia’s head grew heavy with desire, her heart skipping every other beat, and both made it impossible for her to think clearly. But then sometimes too much thinking was a waste of time, especially when every ounce of her body was screaming for her to take what she wanted. Sliding her hands up and over his shoulders, she threaded her fingers around his neck and pulled his mouth to hers.

She’d heard people describe a kiss as fireworks exploding in one’s chest, but she’d never experienced this sensation for herself. Until now. Like her blood had ignited into giant sparklers, her veins popped, stinging her from the inside out, from head to toe, and every cell in between. She felt as if the only way to relieve her mounting itch was to take more of him, to consume him.

Pressing her body against his, she deepened their kiss. Pete responded by knotting his arms around her waist, lifting her feet from the floor. And for a moment, Olivia floated. Her mind, her body, suspended in time. This space and this kiss, this man being the only parts of her that were real. But with the loss of gravity also came a disorientation that quickly morphed into a need to regain control. Snapshots of the future she’d planned as one-half of a Hollywood power couple, along with that picture perfect image of beautiful, brown-eyed babies set against the backdrop of a million-dollar address, flashed against her tightly pressed eyelids. Then those snapshots began to fade until they were nothing more than gray and black shadows.

Dislodging her lips from Pete’s, she unlatched her fingers from his neck and pushed against his chest. “I can’t,” she said, breathless.

Pete loosened his grip, setting her feet to the floor again. “Olivia…” he murmured. And because she was feeling it too, she could hear the desperation, the raw frustration, in his voice.

Whether it was a fear of the intense desire she felt for him, or if it was that her identity had been wrapped up in her quest for fame and fortune for so long, she didn’t know for sure. But either way, right now, she needed her space.

Pushing against his chest again, she wiggled out of his grip. “You have to stop kissing me,” she said, pressing her fingertips to her lips in order to still the lingering effects of his mouth against hers.

Pete raked his hands through his hair and blew a long sigh to the ceiling. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he groaned. “You’re the one who kissed me this time.”

He was right. And she couldn’t argue with the facts. But in her defense, over the last ten days or so, she’d become increasingly confused about what she truly wanted from life and could hardly be held accountable for her actions. “I know… it just…”

Regardless of whatever she ultimately decided, and until she got her head together, she knew it wasn’t fair to keep stringing Pete along. “I’m serious,” she said, deciding that staying her present course was her best and only option for now. “I’m with William.”

Pete’s eyes clouded over. “Clearly,” he growled.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means you two obviously belong together,” he said as he bent down and snatched his coat from the floor. “Spoiled, selfish, and way too concerned with what other people think.” He punched his arms into the sleeves and zipped the front. “Have you ever considered that you might be selling yourself short?”

Olivia jerked on her jacket as well and stuffed her cowboy hat down on her head. “How so?” she asked, defiant.

Pete gave her a look that was half-pity, half-contempt. “For starters, because you’d rather be with a tool like William instead of with a man who appreciates you. Someone who sees that you’re so much more than a pretty little parrot reciting her lines,” he said, his voice thick with an emotion she couldn’t decipher. “Being with someone who wants you for the right reasons might not land your picture on the front of a Hollywood gossip magazine, but if he believes in you, why isn’t that enough?”

Olivia’s eyes pulled into angry slits. “First, you did
not
just call me a parrot!” she threatened. “I am a highly trained actor. What I do is much more specialized than simply reading lines off a cue-card.”

Pete threw his hands up in frustration. “Oh well,
ex-c-use
me. I wasn’t aware you’d won a CLIO Award for your gripping portrayal of a dog so pathetic, it can’t even manage to take a dump.”

Argh!
“That’s because, you
moron
, CLIOs aren’t given out to actors, just to the people who make the commercials,” Olivia bellowed.
“And…” Where was she? She really hadn’t caught much of his previous statement beyond that parrot comment. It was something about… Oh, right. “And second, as evident by my present company, men such as you just described obviously do
NOT
exist!”

The wounded look on Pete’s face struck like a bolt of lightning, leaving a permanent sear in her heart.

“Like you’d recognize him if he did,” he mumbled as he headed for the door.