style="font-size:15px;"> “I’m fresh out,” he answered and she raised her head to glare at him, wiping the tips of her long fingers across her cheeks. Good. Anger he could deal with a lot easier than sorrow.
“You don’t want them to see you hurting. They’ll take too much interest in it. That’s how small towns work.” He took several paces across the empty dining room, wondering why this woman’s sadness bothered him so much. Wondering if his advice was more for her or himself.
“Everyone in Crimson has been great to me since I arrived.” She took a sip of the beer, made a face and then swallowed another bigger drink. “Besides, I am hurting. My husband was mayor of Crimson. I had a very public image in this town. We had the perfect life. Now I look like a fool.”
“I’m not going to argue about your version of the perfect life. The fact that he cheated, then left you is his problem, not yours.”
“It’s mine when he left with all of my money and hadn’t paid our mortgage in months. He left me with nothing.” She clapped a hand over her mouth. “You don’t want to hear about my problems.”
“Don’t be too sure. Who was this pillar of the community?”
She picked at one corner of the bottle’s label. “Craig Wilder. He comes from a prominent family in Crimson.”
Logan felt his jaw clench. “I know who the Wilders are.”
“Were you friends with Craig growing up?”
He almost laughed at that one. “He went to school with my oldest brother.”
Her gaze became speculative. “How old are you, Logan?”
“Twenty-six.”
“A baby,” she whispered.
“Hardly,” he countered. “So what’s your plan now?”
She took another drink of beer. “I don’t have one. I was working on renovating the community center downtown, but it was in a volunteer capacity. I think Craig mainly gave me the job to keep me busy and unaware of his extracurricular activities. I’m not sure what happens now. The contractor heading up the remodeling was the husband of Craig’s mistress. Needless to say, I don’t think he’s too excited about a project that helps the town.”
“But what happens with you?”
“My mom still lives in Saint Louis, where I grew up. I’m going to stay with her and regroup.”
“What about the community center?”
She sat the beer bottle on the table and wrapped her arms around her waist. “It would have been good for Crimson. I had so many plans: art classes, events, reviving the theater, workshops for seniors. We were going to bring together people of all generations and walks of life in Crimson. The center would have highlighted local artists and brought guest teachers to the area. It had so much potential.”
For the first time, Logan saw something more than disappointment in her gaze. When she talked about the community center, it was with passion and dedication.
“It still does,” he answered.
Her eyes searched his as if she expected to see something he knew she’d never find. She stood and took a step toward him as if drawn by the same invisible connection he was having trouble ignoring. “Why do you care about this?”
“I don’t.” He took a drink of beer and looked away. “I’m making conversation to stop you from crying.” He forced his lips into a casual smile. “I’ve been away from Crimson for a while, but I’ve still got a reputation to protect. One dance with me and a woman bursts into tears. I don’t think so.”
That made her smile and the strange charge between them disappeared. “I’ll be sure to tell everyone how that one dance was an amazing, life-altering moment for me.”
He didn’t know whether to laugh or be offended at her sarcasm. Before he could decide, she lifted onto her toes and brushed a quick kiss across his cheek. “It was nice meeting you, Logan. Thank you for the dance,” she said softly. “I owe Sara for making you ask me.”
“My sister-in-law didn’t make me do anything.” Suddenly it was important Olivia understand that fact.
She only smiled over her shoulder and walked out of the restaurant.
Logan sank into her chair after she’d gone. Her perfume still lingered in the air and he closed his eyes to focus on the expensive floral scent. He’d been back in Crimson for less than a week, enough time to reconnect with his brothers and attend Josh and Sara’s wedding. But already he felt his equilibrium shifting. His reaction to Olivia Wilder tonight was proof of that.
He needed to get back to his regular life sooner rather than later, which wouldn’t involve an extended stay in his hometown. He’d left that chapter of his life behind long ago.
Olivia nervously tapped her toe on the floor as she waited in the lobby outside the mayor’s office two days later. She tried to relax, to think of flowery meadows and golden light, but the only image that popped into her mind was Logan Travers’s face as she’d kissed him. As silly as it was, she could still feel the rough stubble of his cheek and smell the woodsy, all-male scent of him. What had possessed her to kiss him as she’d walked away after the reception?
As innocent as it had been, Olivia had never done anything so forward in her life. Put her mouth on a practical stranger, even a tiny peck. She almost giggled at the absurdly liberating feeling it gave her, which at least served to calm her nerves a bit.
To him it had probably meant nothing, much like their one dance. He’d been fulfilling an obligation, end of story. Olivia certainly knew a lot about being an obligation.
No more. That wasn’t how she’d live her life going forward.
“Marshall will see you now.” The new assistant eyed her with a mix of curiosity and sympathy.
“Thank you,” Olivia answered and, her nerves fluttering, walked into the office her husband had occupied only months ago.
Marshall Daley looked at home behind the desk she’d come to think of as Craig’s. He’d been appointed mayor pro tem after Craig resigned and would complete her husband’s term until the next election. Marshall was a lifelong resident of Crimson, a retired insurance salesman and Olivia knew he’d do the right thing for the town as mayor.
She closed the door and took a seat across from him. “How are things going?”
He sat back and drew in a long breath. “They’d be a hell of a lot better if your husband hadn’t run off, leaving his responsibilities floating in the breeze.”
“Ex-husband,” she clarified. “Almost. I’ve got another few weeks before the divorce is final.”
“And you’ve heard nothing from him?”
She shook her head.
“I was so sure he’d
