Total pages in book: 17
Estimated words: 15515 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 78(@200wpm)___ 62(@250wpm)___ 52(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 15515 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 78(@200wpm)___ 62(@250wpm)___ 52(@300wpm)
“We’re not rich, obviously. But Dad … he did everything to provide for our family. He worked to the bone—waking up before the sun rose and coming home past dinner time. We used to live in an apartment complex on the mainland that was like one storm away from collapsing.” One side of her mouth lifts, and her eyes soften. “And one day, he came home earlier than usual and broke the news that he bought a land by the beach.”
Olivia raises her gaze to me, and what I see there has blood roaring in my ears, my pulse pumping wildly, and the raw need to be with her overriding all my other senses. “You have to understand, we’ve never owned anything, so that was a huge deal. A few months later, we moved here and each of us, even little Samantha, helped build the shack you saw yesterday.”
The shack. I’m not gonna lie. It’s no bigger than my entire penthouse apartment, but it’s charming and cozy. Even the weathered wooden exterior with its peeling yellow paint and a thin layer of moss on the roof.
It’s beautiful from the outside. I can only imagine what I’ll find inside.
“You can offer me ten million, and I’ll still say no. There’s nothing, absolutely nothing, you can say or do to make me decide otherwise.” Olivia stands and fixes her top. “So I’m sorry if you came all this way for nothing. I will never change my mind. You’d have to kill me first.”
Olivia crosses her arms over her chest, but she no longer looks angry or defensive. She’s trying her best to make me understand and see everything from her point of view. Surprisingly, I do. “I work as a cook on the mainland while Mom sells her artwork online. We don’t make a lot, just enough, and we still won’t sell. Our neighbors too. The money you offer is life-changing for all of us, but you have to understand, Oliver, some things just don’t have a price. That includes our homes.”
I believe her, and I know my job here is done. Even so, I refuse to jump on the plane and leave. I still don’t understand this magnetic draw toward her, but I get this feeling it’s not something I should ignore.
“Sometimes, Oliver, you just know. There’s no logic or sense or any explanation behind it, but your heart knows what’s right for you. Whether it’s a blessing or a tragedy, you’d have to decide for yourself.”
That’s what Mom told me when I was thirteen and we were on a vacation in Greece. It was one of the last things she said before we lost her.
I’ve known Olivia Lang for all of twenty-four hours, but leaving her and this island is the furthest thing from my mind. I will stay here and woo her if it’s the last thing I do.
I open my mouth to suggest we go down to eat when she slips on a rock and her arms pinwheel. I manage to hold her waist before she loses her balance, and she ends up sitting awkwardly on my lap.
The air between us thickens, and every other sound fades. My heart races, sweat sliding down my back. My one hand rests on her thigh, and the other just under her boob.
Instead of smacking my face or yelling for help, her mouth opens slightly, and her eyes turn glassy.
I lift a hand and graze her jaw with my finger, stopping below her bottom lip, which trembles slightly. “If you wanted to sit on me, all you had to do was ask. No need to go through all this trouble.”
2
OLIVIA
Agreeing to give him a tour was a bad idea. No, if there was an Olympic for bad ideas, this would take home the gold.
Oliver Abbot is my personal nightmare. Not because he’s part owner of the company that’s been trying to take our land, but because he’s so far from the stoic, calculating man some of my neighbors claim he is. That’s what they read on the internet, so hey, it must be a universal truth.
When I accidentally threw my panties at him yesterday, my initial fear was he’d sue me for assault. Then, he treated me like I wasn’t dirt under his shoe or acted like he was wasting his time with a nobody like me and I should be thankful he was talking to me.
He wasn’t like the others.
No, this Oliver is … polite, and he looks at me in a way that has butterflies fluttering in my belly and warmth spreading to every part of my body.
But I have to remember who he is and why he’s here. We’re not friends, and we both come from different worlds. There’s no way this physical attraction is two-way.
With my face only a few inches from his, though, all logical thoughts fly out the window, and I’m three seconds away from abandoning all pretense of anger and begging him to kiss me.