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“We’ll hope for the best,” Riley said.
Olivia didn’t ask her which best she meant—her best or Carson’s best. If she was turning her roommate into a bad person, it was better not to know.
* * *
The week wentby in a blur of construction. Carson and she carved out time to be together when they could. Matt sent another check and her mother was still doing well. Olivia hadn’t told her mother about Carson and her, just reassured her mother that everything was going well.
Her mother wasn’t quite convinced at first. “I can drive up Saturday evening, pick you up, and bring you back to the cabin Sunday night if you need a break.”
“That’s okay,” Olivia said, perhaps too quickly. “I’m fine. The area is really pretty, and I’m getting lots of sketching done. I’m starting my painting this weekend.”
Her mother eyed her silently. “What about getting groceries?”
“Carson buys them for me when he goes to town for his appointments. He even buys me weird things he thinks I should try, like sheep milk. He’s really thoughtful that way.”
“Oh.” More silence, more of her mother trying to read her mind through the phone screen. “I guess thingsaregoing well then.”
“Yeah.”
“Be careful around all of those power tools… And the men who use them.”
Her mother went on to give her more veiled and not-so-veiled advice that Olivia mostly ignored.
Kye, Carson’s friend who worked with Olivia, came up a couple of times in the evening to help and at first seemed surprised that Carson and she were getting along so well. Then his surprise faded, replaced by a knowing grin. Lucas often had a similar knowing grin. She wasn’t sure whether Carson had said anything about her to them or whether they were so used to girls crushing on Carson that they just assumed she’d migrated to that category.
Olivia was almost glad when Lucas returned to Lark Springs. Mr. Clark stayed on and seemed to still be in the dark about their relationship.
The morning Carson left for his doctor’s appointment, Olivia snuck out of the cabin to see him off. She met him at his truck with a small plate of homemade chocolate chip cookies and a sketch. She handed him the plate first. “Something for you to snack on during the drive.”
He looked at the cookies with surprise. “When did you make these?”
“Last night. I told Dustin if he brought me the ingredients and a baking sheet, I’d make cookies for the crew. Bribery and chocolate work wonders.” She handed him the sketch next. “And here’s a picture of you looking happy.” She’d given up trying to capture his mischievous grin and had drawn him in three-quarters profile with a wide smile. “It’s from a picture I snapped of you when you were joking around with Lucas.”
Carson held up the sketch and whistled in appreciation. “You’re really good. Your talent is wasted on a bunch of high school kids.”
“Thanks. I guess.” He’d said the last part more like it was an indictment than a compliment.
“I’m sure you’re a good teacher too,” he amended. “I’m just saying that you could do more with your art.”
“One day I’ll get around to it.”
He looked over the sketch again and gave her the mischievous grin that had alluded her pencil. “As much as I love looking at myself, I’d rather have a sketch of you. Can I commission one? How about a self-portrait in a swimsuit?”
Herself with wet hair and day-glow white thighs? Not likely. “I gave you this one because you’re happy in it. It’s a reminder that whatever the outcome with your foot, you still have a lot to be happy about.”
“That’s sweet. I love it.” He glanced around, checking to make sure no one was around, then leaned down and dropped a kiss on her lips. He probably meant for it to be quick, but she wrapped her arms around his neck, held onto him, and the kiss became considerably longer. She was trying to make a point.
When she finally let him go, he grinned. “Have I mentioned that you’re a woman of talent?”
She blushed and wasn’t sure what to do with her hands. She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m just trying to show you that it wouldn’t be all bad if you didn’t return to Denver.”
“Oh.” The teasing smile was still on his face but a question had crept into his eyes. “You’d still want to date me even if I was an unemployed has-been?”
“Of course. I have really low standards where guys are concerned. Plus you’re hot, so that goes a long way to cover your other drawbacks.”
“I’m not even going to ask what my other drawbacks are.” He glanced at his watch. “Might be a long list, and if I don’t leave soon, I’ll be late for my appointment.”
She reached out and took his hand, serious now. “It’s a small list.”
