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“My God, Mom!” I snap, my finger headed for the End Call button. “Listen, Rick and I are just about to eat dinner. We’ll talk again tomorrow.”
“Hold on,” she says. “I was calling to ask how Rick is doing with his recovery!”
Rick takes a deep breath, trying to keep himself upbeat about the long road ahead. “Surgically speaking, I’m fine. The tendon is healing well, and the doctor says I’ve retained good flexibility on it. It helps that I’m young. Physical therapy is a pain the ass, though. My trainer is an authoritarian who won’t cut me any slack.”
“And that’s good, because the Forty-Niners need you back at full strength,” I remind him with a raised eyebrow. “You know you need his boot up your ass.”
“Language, Olivia!” Mom cuts in, half-joking. “Do you have any pain, Rick? How are you managing?”
“The pain is mostly bearable,” he says. There’s a tint of sadness in his voice, and I can’t blame him. He went from unbeatable to in bed with a signed cast in the span of three seconds. It hasn’t been easy for him, but he’s getting all the support he can handle from me, the rest of our family, and his teammates and coach. “I’m getting a special prescription next week. The doc says it should help without steering me toward the harder pharmaceuticals, if you know what I mean.”
There’s a long pause before Mom replies. “I know. Okay. It’s all I wanted to hear, that you’re both good. Rick, don’t skip your meals and keep going through your recovery. Whatever you need, call Dad or call me, and I’m sure we can work something out.”
“Will do, Mom.”
“And Olivia. I’m serious. There’s some new stuff coming in at Macy’s. Do yourself a favor and try to up-style your wardrobe just by a bit. I promise you won’t regret it.”
“I’ll do it just to get you off my back,” I say, shaking my head in defeat. It prompts Rick to stifle another hearty laugh at my expense.
“Send photos from the dressing room!” Mom replies.
“No way,” I shoot back and end the call.
Rick gives me a look. “Does this mean I get to take you out shopping this weekend, big sis?”
“There’s not a chance in hell that I will let you dress me, Rick. The last thing I need is to come out looking like a Vegas stripper,” I reply dryly, choosing to turn on the news and ignore the rest of the wardrobe-related argument he tries to serve me with.
He already knows I’m gonna get enough new clothes to prove I’m at least trying to make a change. On one hand, I hate this stuff, but on the other hand, I do like the idea of putting something else on… of maybe catching Will’s eye with something other than my work or my constant foot-in-mouth syndrome.
I’m his company’s most valuable asset. Maybe it’s time I started looking the part, too.
Who knows? It could bring out parts of me I might’ve been missing out on this whole time.
CHAPTER9
WILL
The moment Olivia walks into the office, it’s clear that something is different about her. She’s wearing a tight, cream-colored knitted dress that goes just above the knees, stylishly paired with calf-skin boots and a matching belt. She’s different, and it’s not just the outfit. She seems… bolder. More confident.
Zara was right. Olivia may not be a standard type of beauty, but everything about her is superb. Perfect. Glossy and glittery and healthy-looking skin. A smile that sets my soul on fire as soon as she looks my way. Damn, if I had a thing for her earlier, I’m definitely hooked now. There is nothing more dangerous than a woman discovering her power.
“Morning, Will,” she says, casually walking into my office with a demo tablet at the ready.
“Good morning,” I reply, trying to find the right words to maybe compliment her attire but nothing coherent wants to come out. I’m reduced to a mumbling mess as she hands the tablet over for me to scroll through the front end of her code. “I take it you’ve made some more progress.”
“Oh, and then some. Check the databases. Top-right button.”
My God, her confidence is doing unspeakable things to me. Her lilac scent tests my senses as I struggle to focus. Everything about her right now is begging me to touch her. To just reach out and run my hand through her hair. Those loose curls seem so inviting.
Dammit. I’ve got to get my head back in the game.
“This looks fantastic,” I say while scrolling. “You managed to connect directly into the federal databases, too. Wow.”
“Max helped with the authorizations from the State Department,” she replies. “It’s a team effort.”
It’s mostly her, actually, but she will never take full credit. I like that about her.
There’s a lot I like about her, and a lot more I’ve yet to understand. Olivia can be an open book if I catch her in the right moment, but she’s always so deeply delved into her work, and I’d be an idiot to ever think of interrupting her. The more I see her, though, the more I’m compelled to dig into her brilliant mind, to pull away at the layers that made her into this incredible woman who is so adorably unaware.
