Broken Hero

Finally, he turns to me. “I do. It’s a challenge, and it’s a lot of responsibility at times, but I don’t think I’m suited for anything else.”

His answer makes me sad, but I nod anyway. “Well, don’t say that. From what I can see you run pretty much all of this single-handedly. That’s a CEO right there.”

Oliver scoffs, but he catches on to my teasing. “Forbes called about a profile last week, but I turned them down.”

“You’re not in it for the fame?”

He shakes his head, face magnanimous. “It’s about the people, Lucy.”

We grin at each other. I’d found Oliver attractive before, but with a wide smile on his face? It transforms him completely. The dimple I’d only seen hints of is on full display, his eyes sparkling. The fact that he seems to laugh so rarely is a crime, but if he did it more often, I was in real danger of becoming yet another woman falling at his feet.

“So, tell me,” he says. “What’s best-working at the bakery or working here at the ranch?”

I shake my head. “No, no, that’s not a fair question. You can’t ask me that.”

“Why not?”

“Because in one option I work with my family! I can’t choose.”

“You’ll be hard-pressed to find a person in this town who gossips less than I do,” he offers. “Mrs. Masters and I are barely on speaking terms. Your secret is safe with me.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “I know what you’re doing.”

He looks innocent. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You want me to admit that working here is the best.”

“I would never fish for praise,” Oliver says. “I was raised better than that.”

I laugh again. “Sure you were. But… and you promise it’s just between us?”

He nods, and his eyes are serious now, as if this whole thing wasn’t just a silly joke. “I promise.”

“Working here is great. I love it. I actually love it… just as much as I love selling bread in town.”

Oliver groans. “Coward.”

He reaches for one of the muffins and I watch as he peels back the parchment paper. His hands are broad across the back, nails short, the skin slightly rough. They’re the hands of a man who works. His body was the same, from what I’d seen-the body of a man who uses it daily. They’re his tools, and he’s in full control over both.

I grab my own muffin and we fall into companionable silence.

He clears his throat. “So, why did you come to Claremont?”

Oh.

I look down at the muffin in my hand, the small bits of raspberry, the white chocolate chips. The story is long and not particularly flattering and I really want to leave it all behind.

“I wanted to get away from the city for a while,” I say. “I wanted to…”

“Escape?” His face is impassive, but his eyes are softer.

I nod. “Yeah.”

“This place is good for that. It’s a retreat, after all.”

I snort. “You’re right.”

He reaches out, his fingers just barely touching my cheek as he brushes a strand of hair back behind my ear. He’s so close that I can see the small specks of light in his blue eyes.

“Well,” he says. “You’re welcome to use this as an escape for as long as you need it.”

I watch Lucy walk away from the farmhouse, her bag slung across her shoulder, bare legs tickled by the too-high grass. She smelled of citrus and was easy to talk to and hell if I wasn’t hot for her. I wanted to slide my fingers through her hair and pull her close, and then closer still.

I could swear that her eyes flicked down my chest earlier. She’d seen my scars for sure-at least some of them. But she hadn’t asked, even if I could guess what she was thinking.

She’d come to Claremont to run from something or someone, and I’ll make sure she has a job here for as long as she needed it. But I don’t for a minute think she’ll stay for long.

But she’d still laughed at my jokes and smiled as if she didn’t want to be anywhere else. It had been a long time since anyone had been that comfortable around me who wasn’t my direct family or my Marine buddies.

When I’d come back to this town, it was like it had changed shape. I didn’t fit here anymore. The light, pleasant conversations I’d grown up having with these people felt torturous now. I wasn’t who I’d been before, and no one knew how to deal with that-least of all me.

But Lucy didn’t know me from before.

She only knew me from now.

And she still found me funny.

My last relationship had practically been over before it began. I was emotionally unavailable, she’d said. There, but not really there. She’d cried when I woke up from a nightmare once and I’d had to comfort her, still sweaty from the experience myself. She’d left me after a few months and gotten upset that I hadn’t seemed sad by the split. The last I heard, she was married now, living a few towns over. Good for her; one of us should find happiness.

Since her, I hadn’t seen the point in even trying. I wasn’t boyfriend material, not husband material-I could never be like Sarah’s husband John.

I knew all of this, but my mind kept returning to thoughts of Lucy, like a broken record on repeat. I saw her eyes widen, I felt the silkiness of her hair through my fingers, and my body grew hot and tense as I imagined how she’d feel in my arms. It had been so long since I’d felt a woman’s soft body against mine.

Hours later, she’s still present in my mind-even with Logan in my office, a beer in his hand. He leans back in his chair. “The spa turned out really well.”

“It did. All thanks to your electrical work, of course.”

He raises his beer. “Anything for you, man. I also managed to get a look at the girl that Gavin got you riled up about. Lucy?”

“Yeah.”

“Well…” he pauses. “Let’s just say that I can see why you got angry.”Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

I put down my beer.

Logan looks at me for a moment before he breaks into laughter. “Okay, okay, but Oliver, you’ve been dropping hints about Mandy since I got back. I have to give as good as I get, man.”

“It doesn’t matter, anyway. She’s too young.”