Snowflakes in Seattle

Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

WYATT

G et used to it? To her? Not fucking likely.

Olive was small—well, not all of her—but she took up the whole damn kitchen. My entire mind.

Hot damn, that body. Utterly perfect, every inch.

Her heart slayed me, too. Her dedication to the family business rang loud and clear in the initiatives she’d started at Blake Builds, and in the work she’d done to get their company where it was. She’d also started a movement to get more women in construction. I was impressed.

The words “old together” had sent my imagination into overdrive. Sometimes, like in that moment, I hated how vivid my inner life could be. I resented the glimpses of wonderlands that weren’t real and couldn’t be touched. Other times, like when she’d walked into my kitchen without her coat, I thanked all of creation for the scenarios my mind could conjure without giving anything away.

But at least I had my head on straight enough to know Olive needed a present to open in the morning. Thank goodness the grocery store by my house was open late.

I knew exactly what to get her.

A little teasing was just what we needed to distract her from my slipup. I didn’t need her dwelling on how fast my mind moved.

I turned to face her fully, loving the sass in her stance, grateful she felt comfortable enough to tease me. Grateful that I felt comfortable enough to tease her back. To talk to her at all, really. “As much as you like to be in charge, boss , I bet you secretly love it when someone else tells you what to do.”

I snickered as her cheeks turned pink this time. But then Olive seemed to collect herself.

“I think we all crave giving away power,” she replied, expression lighting up and darkening at the same time.

The look in her eyes told me she wasn’t teasing. I took a step back.

“People like us, in control, making decisions all day, all week, people relying on us. We crave places where we can let go. Surrender.”

Places or people ?

“Don’t you think?” she purred, moving closer.

I thought I could barely breathe as she stalked me like a fucking panther. But I couldn’t let her win this round. Not completely.

I pushed forward until we were nearly touching. “I do. And I know I would do beautiful things with any power surrendered to me.”

Olive didn’t move. Didn’t blink. I could smell her flowery perfume. I could see her pupils contracting as she searched my face. Finally, she turned away, a ghost of a smile on her lips. I fought the urge to clutch my chest in relief. That was close.

Lesson learned: Don’t play mind games with Olive Blake. You will lose. You might even have a heart attack.

I crossed and uncrossed my arms, still flustered by our little exchange. My imagination was struggling to stay rooted in the moment, with the shadowy, tempting picture she had hinted at begging to be drawn. “If you change your mind about the dishes, I’ll do them when I get back,” I told her. “Then we’re watching a Christmas movie. Your choice.”

I escaped to my bedroom without waiting for a reply. Grabbing shoes, wallet, and keys, I swung back by the kitchen on my way out. Yes, I was going out in pajamas. Yes, my pulse was still jumping in my veins. “You sure you don’t need anything from the store?”

Olive was bent over the sink, scrubbing at our plates. I had to physically grind my jaw together to stop the moan. Her ass in those pants. Her ass in anything, probably. And her hair. It was so shiny. A flash of those long locks fanned out on my pillow as she screamed for more leapt to mind.

Only half of that would be happening. Hair fanned out, yes, because she’d be sleeping in my bed tonight, using my pillows. The only screaming would be in frustration in my mind.

She glanced over her shoulder, and her delicate beauty struck me like a boat against an iceberg. Hopefully, the outcome of Olive staying the night would not be so catastrophic.

Somehow, her smile was sweetness itself. From sinful to angelic in under five minutes.

“I’m sure. But don’t keep me waiting, old man.” Her smirk reemerged as she flicked sudsy water my way. “It’s Christmas, after all.”

Hell, I might be in trouble.

I tore to the store as quickly as humanly possible. Thankfully, the roads were empty. The store was nuts, but I was still in and out in under ten minutes. Finding bows had been the hardest part.

My heart lifted when I pulled in front of the houseboat, and it wasn’t from the clear sky full of stars. Wasn’t from the gleaming city around the lake or the Space Needle lit red and green. No, my happy heart was all about the beautiful woman inside. The girl from my past.

Maybe I really was lonely, as both Anita and my mom always insisted.

I left Olive’s gifts in the truck. I’d wrap them later, when she was asleep.

My chest constricted a little when I shoved the door open and spied her curled on my couch, phone in hand, covered in the soft throw blanket that never got used. I could see that she’d changed her clothes. The tops of her shoulders were on display in a tank more appropriate for her final destination than here. She’d put her hair in one of those messy buns on the top of her head.

Olive had Christmas Vacation queued up on the TV, paused and waiting for me. Hearing me come in, she propped herself up on an elbow and turned. Her smile was as bright as my Christmas tree, and I’d put a ton of lights on it.

“Was the timing satisfactory, boss?”

“Two minutes later and I’d have written you up,” she quipped. She pushed herself up as I moved closer, dropping my hands on the cushions near her back. “You’ve been hustling all evening on my behalf. Come have a beer with me while we try not to look at Cousin Eddie’s moose knuckle.”

I threw my head back and laughed. Eddie and his polyester pants.

Laughing along with me, she took a sip of a beer she must have retrieved from the fridge in my absence. The face she made was priceless. “The can says ‘notes of coffee and dark chocolate.’ How is it so bad?” she gasped.

I laughed harder when she powered down a second swallow with a cringe.

“Glutton for punishment,” I commented. “Porter obviously isn’t your drink. I should have asked what you wanted.”

“It’s fine,” she replied, still cringing. “I’m just here for the night, hopefully.”

My happy heart wilted a little. Must remember she’s just passing through.

“Get what you needed from the store?” she asked, pointedly staring at my empty hands.

I moved to hang my jacket near the door before plopping down near her on the couch. She didn’t scoot closer, but she didn’t move away, either. “Sure did, boss.”

She smiled at me as I stretched my arm along the back of the couch. Three inches and I could brush my fingers through that silky hair. “I like your nicknames.”

“Can’t say the same,” I teased. Though, really, I didn’t mind her calling me “old man.” I did like my damn slippers.

Over the next ninety minutes, I learned that I also liked Olive’s giggle. I liked how she silently mouthed the words to the movie but sang to the soundtrack with gusto. I liked how often she smiled at me and that she fell asleep with only five minutes left.

I tried not to stare at her face while she dozed, head tipped sideways on the arm of the couch. I tried not to mentally measure the millimeters between her mouth and the mole near her nose. I tried not to memorize the curve of her neck or the lines of her body. I tried not to look forward to tomorrow morning, to more time with Olive.

But I did.