was by her. It wasn’t the six-year age difference that made his awareness of Olivia so foreign. She was in a totally different league than him. Normally he’d respect that invisible barrier. But something about this woman made him want to forget all of the very rational reasons she was not for him. Because as much as his brain understood that, his body wasn’t cooperating.
“Do you want coffee?” she asked as she led him through a formal living room filled with antique furniture and real art—the kind that looked like it cost a lot of money. A few spaces on the wall were noticeably blank, but he didn’t comment as he followed her into the kitchen.
“I’d love a cup,” he answered, taking in the modern appliances and warm butcher-block counters. “Nice space,” he told her.
Her hand faltered as she reached up to take a mug from the cabinet. “Thank you. The kitchen is my favorite room in the house. It’s the only place that doesn’t feel stuffy to me.” She flashed a tentative smile. “The garage apartment is nice, too. It was going to be my studio, but...”
“You’re an artist?” He pulled out one of the stools and sat at the island’s counter.
“A painter. Sort of. Not really.” She shrugged. “I like to paint and studied art in college, but I haven’t had much time for it lately.”
“I took a ceramics class in high school. Before I got suspended for the second time.”
The mug she held clattered to the floor but didn’t break. He watched as she scooped it up, set it in the sink and took out another one. He shouldn’t have brought up his misspent youth, but he’d needed to remind them both how different their lives were.
“Were you any good?”
“I didn’t have a chance to find out,” he told her. “They put a lot of the troubled kids with one of the art teachers. Kept us busy and out of the way of the students who gave a damn.”
She turned, her gaze curious. “Why didn’t you care?”
“I was angry, stupid and young. A bad combination. I managed to graduate, mainly because the school wanted to be rid of me.”
She set the cup of coffee in front of him. “Milk or sugar?”
He shook his head.
“But things got better after you left Crimson?”
“After a while,” he answered as he took a drink. “I grew up. Realized I didn’t have to turn out the way most people expected me to. I had a choice not to fail, to prove them wrong. I made that choice.”
She took the seat across the counter from him. “Maybe the problems you had when you were younger shaped you into a person determined to be better.”
He actually laughed out loud. “I’ve never heard anyone suggest that.”
“I have a lot of experience putting a good spin on bad situations,” she answered with a small grin.
How was it that talk about his wild past seemed to melt away her nerves? He’d brought it up to keep her at arms’ length, not as an ice breaker.
Her smile slowly faded. “I wasn’t sure you’d come today. I figured maybe once you’d left town you wouldn’t be back.”
The thought had crossed his mind more than once in the past few days. He’d even interrupted Josh on his honeymoon to run Olivia’s plan by Sara. He’d figured his new sister-in-law would have something to say about Logan returning to town and working so closely with her friend.
To his surprise Sara had loved the idea. She’d told Logan that Olivia needed someone on her side, and he’d be the perfect person to take over the renovations. Even Josh had seemed happy that Logan would be spending the next month and a half in Crimson.
Logan wasn’t used to people being happy to have him around. He’d felt as though he had an itch he couldn’t quite reach ever since he’d agreed to this plan. He didn’t know how to make it go away, so he was doing his best to ignore it.
“I gave you my word,” he answered.
She nodded as if that made perfect sense. He wanted to reach across the table and shake her. Didn’t she see that he was not worth the trouble he was bound to cause? Maybe that was what he found so irresistible about Olivia Wilder. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had believed the best about him, whether or not he deserved it.
“I have the plans and the proposed budget.” She pushed a stack of papers toward him. “Not that I want to cut corners, but if there’s any way to reduce expenses, that would be a big help.”
“You know I’m cheap labor.” He was only teasing but loved the blush that colored her cheeks once again.
“That’s not what I meant. I’m going to put some of my own money into the project. At least until I can line up more outside funding. The new mayor has the best of intentions, but his plate is overly full at the moment. There’s a chance the community center could get waylaid if there’s something more critical that needs money from the town. I don’t want the work delayed any more than it has been.”
“Where did you get the money?”
“What?” She looked at him as though she didn’t understand the question.
He studied her. “You said at the wedding that Craig had drained your bank account. I know the community center is important, but you need to take care of yourself first. You don’t need to do anything foolish just to get money. Things will work themselves out, Olivia.”
She busied herself with emptying her mug into the sink. “Easy for you to say. And it’s none of your business where I got the money.”
“That’s true,” he answered softly. “But remember I’m on your side in all this.”
“I sold my wedding ring to a jeweler in Aspen.” She whirled around to face him. “We’ll be divorced within the month. I don’t have any use for it.”
He held up his hands, palms facing her. “I’m not judging you.”
“Besides which,” she continued, absently rubbing two fingers across the empty space on her left hand, “it was my grandmother’s diamond. My parents gave it to Craig before he proposed. He didn’t even have to spend his own money on a ring. That’s how ready they were to pawn me off on him.” She stared at him, eyes blazing, her chest heaving. “I practically had a dowry attached to me, as if I was some Regency spinster. I was twenty-eight at our wedding, not exactly an old maid.”
“I hope you got a lot for it.”
Her mouth twisted. “Enough to make sure the renovations will continue.”
“If you’re sure that’s how you want to use it. You don’t owe anyone in Crimson because of what your husband did.”
She shook her head. “I owe this town a lot. It’s the first place that’s felt like home to me.”
“How long were you and Craig married?” he asked, coming to stand next to her.
“Five years.” She took the mug from his hands, his skin tingling where she touched him. “I’m thirty-two. Way older than you.”
“Six years,” he clarified. “Not way older.”
She took a step back but he followed. “I could have been your...babysitter.”
He tipped his head back and laughed. “My brothers and I would have had you tied up in minutes.”
“I’m tougher than I look,” she whispered, turning away.
“I bet you are.” He placed a hand on her arm and she looked at him over her shoulder. “You’re not an old maid, Olivia. Not by a long shot.”
Her gray eyes darkened as she looked at him. Hope and doubt crashed behind them and he had to resist the urge to smooth the