This afternoon, she’d sat on the porch with a big glass of iced tea and, surrounded by the scent of roses, watched dusk settle over the land. She’d watched a few episodes of her favorite TV show—the animated one about a diner Chet had thought was stupid. And she’d taken another delicious nap.
No one had yelled at her. No one had accused her of horrible things. No one had mocked her appearance or told her that her husband had got exactly what he deserved. All in all, it had been a nearly perfect day.
Except she wished Oliver had been here. Which wasn’t fair. He had to work, she knew that. As she dumped the sugar onto butter, she knew she didn’t need Oliver by her side. But she wanted to show him that she was doing all right. Better than all right.
She’d been fragile and shell-shocked when she walked into his office, exhausted with worry and drained from the flight. But that didn’t define her. It bothered her that he might think that was all there was to her.
But then again, she had a hazy memory of him telling her that she was strong for her unborn child. So maybe he knew? Or maybe he’d just been polite.
No matter. He would be here this weekend and by then, she hoped to have figured out the secret to perfect chocolate chip cookies.
The sugar blended into the butter—at least, she hoped that was what creamed butter and sugar was supposed to look like—she checked the recipe again. Dang, she’d forgotten to turn on the oven. The recipe said it was supposed to preheat—maybe she should crank it up? Would it preheat faster that way? It was worth a shot. She set the oven to five hundred and then went back to her recipe. It called for one cup of chocolate chips, but that didn’t seem like enough. So she doubled it. One could never have too much chocolate.
There. She had something that reasonably looked like chocolate chip cookie dough. If she wasn’t pregnant, she’d test it, just to make sure it tasted right. But raw cookie dough was one of those things that pregnant women weren’t supposed to eat, so she resisted the temptation. She scooped out the dough and set the sheets in the oven.
It was ridiculous, how proud she felt of this small accomplishment. Putting cookies in the oven to bake barely counted as an accomplishment at all. But still. She’d done it. God, she hoped they were good.
“What’s going on in here?”
Renee screamed in alarm as she spun, losing her balance and bouncing off the corner of the island. Seconds later, strong hands had her by the arm, pulling her against a warm, solid chest. Tingles raced down her back and she knew even before she got a look at his face that, once again, Oliver had caught her before she fell.
She shouldn’t be this happy to see him. But she was anyway. “You’re here!” she said, breathless as she wrapped him in a big hug. Now the day was perfect.
“I am,” he said, as if he were just as surprised to find himself back at the ranch—and in her arms—as she was.
Oh. Oh! She was hugging him, feeling every inch of his hard body against hers. She took a quick step back and let her hands fall to her sides. “I didn’t think you were coming back tonight.”
He leaned against the island, his mouth curving into a smile that sent another shiver down her back. “I wanted to make sure you were doing all right.”
Something warm began to spread in her chest. “You could’ve called.” After all, it wasn’t like he’d popped next door to check on her. He had driven a solid hour and a half out of his way. He wasn’t even in his suit. He was wearing a purple dress shirt but he had on dark jeans that sat sinfully low on his hips today. God, he looked so good. Better than chocolate chip cookies.
“I could’ve,” he agreed.
His dimple was back and Renee had an inexplicable urge to kiss him right there on that little divot.
“Is everything all right?” If there was bad news, she could see him wanting to deliver it in person because that was the kind of man Oliver Lawrence was.
He wouldn’t hide from the unpleasant truth. But instead of lowering the boom, he said, “Everything’s fine.”
They were words she’d heard hundreds, thousands of times. Chet had said them constantly, including in those last months when their lives had begun to unravel, even though Renee hadn’t known it at the time. But she’d been able to tell that things weren’t fine. But that’s all Chet—or her brother or her father—had ever told her, like she was a toddler who’d bumped her head and needed a simple reassurance.
Those words coming out of Oliver’s mouth were different. She was pretty sure. God, she hoped he wasn’t that good of a liar. “You’re sure?”
He lifted one shoulder. “I have Bailey scanning the headlines for any mention of you in the greater Texas area, but nothing’s cropped up. A few New York headlines are wondering where the pregnant Preston Pyramid Princess has disappeared to, but it’s more because they’re sad you’re not providing them with clickbait fodder. Your brother hasn’t accepted a deal yet. Your soon-to-be-former sister-in-law gave an interview to the Huffington Post where she eviscerated Clint, as well as your husband and your father, but only mentioned you to say that she’d always thought you were sweet and she really hoped you hadn’t had anything to do with the scam. She didn’t think you had.”
A breath Renee hadn’t realized she’d been holding whooshed out of her lungs. “Really? That’s...that’s great. I should send Carolyn a thank-you card. That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said about
