Lucille stood. “She can’t stay here. Too many of those boys recognized her.”
“You’re the one who promised you’d teach her how to bake.” The idea of sticking Renee in some soulless hotel where she wasn’t allowed to wander around or even attempt a simple sugar cookie left him feeling vaguely ill.
“It’s going to take me at least a day to put that kitchen back in order,” Lucille grumbled, but she smiled as she said it. “Take her to your condo. I’ll be there on Monday anyway. The building has decent security. They won’t be able to sneak up on her like they would here.”
Oliver had been worried about reporters but what if someone heard that the Preston Pyramid Princess was here and decided to take matters into their own hands? What if someone came here looking not for a scoop, but for revenge? “You raise a valid point.”
Lucille smirked. “Good. Tell her I’ll see her Monday.” She headed for the door but paused and looked back at him, a knowing smile on her face. “Besides, that would save you a lot of driving.”
Yeah, Oliver wasn’t fooling anyone.
“Tell her I’ll bring my grandma’s snickerdoodle recipe,” Lucille called over her shoulder and then the door opened and shut.
Oliver dropped his head into his hands, trying to get a handle on the jumble of thoughts all clamoring to be heard inside his mind at the same time.
What did she want? What did he want? Well, he knew the answer to that.
He wanted to go upstairs and sweep Renee into his arms and fall into bed and spend the next twelve to twenty-four hours forgetting about cookies and firefighters and housekeepers and scams and family. He wanted to revel in her body and show her how good he could be for her. He wanted her with a fierceness that was a little frightening, if he were being honest.
Did she want him? Or did she want what he wanted?
He shook his head. None of that mattered, because neither of them was going to get what they wanted. Instead, they were going to get what they needed and right now that was to leave the seclusion of Red Oak Hill and head back to the anonymity of Dallas.
This was a problem. If word got out that Renee was here, then the only reasonable conclusion would be that Renee was with him. Even if she were safely tucked away in his condo, people might still try to get to her. And they might try to get to her through him.
He wanted to join her in the shower but he couldn’t risk being caught with his pants down for the second time in one night, so instead he composed an email to Bailey, updating him on the change in circumstances and directing him to order extra security for the condo and the office. Then, when Oliver had gauged enough time had passed that Renee was probably at least partially dressed, he went upstairs to break the news to her.
Damn it all to hell.
His father was going to find out sooner or later.
Oliver prayed it wasn’t sooner.
Nine
This was not how she’d planned on spending her evening—making a late-night mad dash back to Dallas for the safety of Oliver’s condo.
It wasn’t like Red Oak Hill was hers. She’d spent the equivalent of a long weekend there. But she was sadder than she wanted to admit to leave it behind. She been able to breathe there and even though she was a born-and-bred city girl and should be relieved to be back in a big city, she wasn’t.
It was true it was easier to hide in the city. But she hadn’t had to hide for a few days. She’d been able to sit on the porch and take a walk around the pond and be herself. No worries about who was going to get a terrible photo, no thoughts as to what the next headline would be. Just...peace.
If only she hadn’t ruined that.
“Did you enjoy baking the cookies?”
Renee turned her attention back to Oliver. His gaze was focused on traffic. She didn’t recognize where they were, but it wasn’t like she’d spent a lot of time driving around. She’d had a taxi take her from the airport to Oliver’s office. That was all she knew of Dallas. “I did. There was something soothing about mixing up the ingredients and hoping for the best. And when they were awful, I could try again.”
God, she sounded pathetic. But that was the truth. Wasn’t that why she’d come to Dallas and to Oliver? All she could do right now was mix things up and hope for the best.
She braced herself for a cutting comment, an affirmation that she wasn’t capable of anything other than a Pinterest fail, a warning that cookies would make her fat—something. Oliver couldn’t be happy that his house smelled burned. He couldn’t be thrilled about bringing her to yet another home on such short notice. He couldn’t enjoy the way she kept upending his life again and again.
So when he reached over and lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to her palm, her mouth fell open in surprise. “Then bake cookies. I won’t distract you anymore.”
Then he kissed her hand again. Sweet warmth spread from where his lips touched her bare skin and she wanted to revel in it.
Because underneath the worry and anxiety that had become her constant companion in the last few months was something new.
She and Oliver had made love. No, that felt too soft to describe what they’d done. They’d had hot, sweet, block-out-the-rest-of-the-world sex that had been a gift because he’d made her feel amazing and then, when it was over, he’d asked if she needed more. Because he was willing to give her more.
Oh, how she wanted to take him up on that offer. She’d wanted him to come
