I can count on.”
“What makes you think you can count on me?” His expression was guarded as he studied her.
It was crazy but the longer she thought about it, the more Olivia was convinced Logan could help her. That maybe he was the only person she could trust right now. “You’re Josh’s brother. I know he would vouch for you. That’s a pretty strong reference.”
“You heard Jeremy. My reputation in Crimson isn’t the best.”
“We all make mistakes.”
“Mistakes,” he repeated, laughing softly. “Right.” He looked past her to where the mountains sat in the distance. Olivia loved those mountains and realized she’d do whatever she had to do to stay living in their shadow. “I left here a long time ago. This isn’t my home anymore.”
“You just said it’s a slow season for construction. The whole thing should be finished in six weeks. There’s an apartment over my garage that’s empty. You can stay there.”
“You don’t know me well enough to offer me a job and a place to live.”
“The fact that I don’t know you is why I need you to take this job. You won’t be affected by the gossip.” As a brisk wind whipped down the street, Olivia started to zip up her puffer jacket, but it got caught in the fabric. She struggled with it as she spoke. “You saw how Jeremy treated me, how those men in the store looked at me. I’m quite the topic of conversation in certain circles these days. Most people are supportive, but for others it’s my fault that Craig had a wandering eye. I don’t like it and I don’t want it to detract from the community center. You’re the only person outside of my small group of friends who doesn’t look at me with pity.” She pulled harder on her coat, embarrassed that her fingers shook slightly. Glancing up at him, she said, “I can’t take any more pity in my life, Logan.”
His mouth opened as if he would argue but then shut again. He took a few quick steps away from where they stood, then stalked back. “This is a bad idea.” He reached out to brush her hands aside. His long fingers gently worked the zipper free of the snag. He zipped up the coat to her chin, his knuckles grazing her jaw as he finished.
“But you’ll do it,” she suggested, her voice the tiniest bit breathless.
“I never was known for my good judgment,” he answered. “Yes, I’ll help you.”
“You won’t regret it. I promise.” She smiled despite her nerves. “Would you be more comfortable staying with Josh and Sara? I’m sure they would—”
“The apartment is fine,” he interrupted. “At the ranch I’ll only be in the way. I need to drive down to Telluride for a few days and wrap up some loose ends. My roommate can take care of the house while I’m gone.”
Roommate? Olivia couldn’t help but wonder if that person was a woman or man. None of her concern. This arrangement was strictly business. She knew without a doubt that Logan Travers was too much for her.
Too attractive, too young, too dangerous.
Still, she felt relieved to have him working on the renovations with her. Something deep inside her relaxed with the knowledge that she wasn’t alone on this project. She tried to convince herself it was simply having a contractor to handle the construction, but a part of her knew it had more to do with the man standing before her.
She took her cell phone from her purse and handed it to him. “Put your number in and I’ll text you my address. I have some things to take care of in Denver over the weekend. We could meet at my house Monday morning, and I’ll show you the plans and where we are on the project. You can get moved in, then we’ll go from there.”
He watched her for several long moments, those ice-blue eyes giving nothing away. “Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked finally.
I have no idea what I want, Olivia thought silently. Her plan was crazy, impulsive and the exact opposite behavior anyone would expect from Olivia Wilder.
“I’m positive,” she answered.
The following Monday, Logan let himself into the building at the edge of town that soon would house the community center Olivia was working so hard to make happen. There was no lock on the front door, something he planned to change today. Although the rooms were still under construction and unusable, he didn’t believe in taking any chances.
As if in answer to his concerns, he heard a sound coming from the far end of the building. He made his way through the early morning shadows, careful not to make any noise as he walked.
The glow of a flashlight was visible in the large room that occupied the back half of the first floor. He stepped through and realized he needn’t have worried about noise. The preteen boy who was currently spray painting a large B on the wall wore headphones. Logan could hear the bass echo in the empty space. The kid wore a flannel hoodie and jeans that rode low on his narrow hips. His dark brown hair was sleep tousled as he concentrated on his task.
When the boy started on an i, it was clear where the graffiti was headed. Wordlessly, Logan approached from behind, grabbing the hood of the boy’s sweatshirt with one hand and ripping the headphones off with the other.
“What do you think you’re doing, punk?”
The kid flailed, arms and legs flying as he tried to fight his way out of Logan’s grasp. Logan figured he had more than a foot plus a good fifty pounds on the boy. It wasn’t difficult to capture his wrists before shoving him into the wall.
“L-let go of me,” the boy yelled.
“Not until you answer my question.”
“What’s it look like?” The kid’s tone was surprisingly belligerent, but Logan felt a tremor of fear slide down his arms. “I’m sending a message.”
“Who’s it for?” Logan asked, although he could guess the answer.
“Olivia Wilder,” the kid said with a sneer. “She’s the biggest bi—”
“Watch it,” Logan cautioned, pressing the boy a little harder against the wall. “She happens to be a friend of mine. What’s your beef with Olivia?”
The boy’s thin shoulders tensed and he was silent so long that Logan thought he might not answer. “My mom took off with her husband,” the kid finally mumbled. He deflated so suddenly, Logan had to practically hold him up so he didn’t sink to the floor.
Logan sighed as the situation became clear. “What’s your name?”
“Jordan.” The answer came through gritted teeth.
“How old are you, Jordan?”
“I’ll be thirteen in two weeks.”
“Jordan, I’m going to let go of your wrists now so we can talk man-to-man. But I’m warning you that if you try to run away, I’ll catch you and it won’t be pretty.”
Slowly, Logan released the boy’s arms. He backed up a couple of steps and waited
