“Farrah helped design it,” Sammy said when he noticed her scrutiny. He leaned against the counter and sipped his coffee. Somehow, the simple action made him look even hotter. “Virtual consultations.”
“Right.” Olivia remembered Farrah mentioning it to her a while back, but she’d been so busy with business school she’d glossed over the information. “It looks great.” She swallowed another mouthful of eggs. “The food is great, too.” She felt the need to compliment him because there were only so many times a girl could say “thank you” before it got annoying. She wasn’t lying, either—breakfastwasgood. Sammy could turn the most mundane dishes into a gourmet meal.
“Thanks.” He finished his coffee, and she snuck a peek at the way his throat flexed when he swallowed before averting her gaze.
What waswrongwith her?
This was Sammy. Her ex-boyfriend. Her first love. The only man who’d ever made her cry, and the one who walked away when he’d promised her forever.
Yet he was the one she’d called when she’d needed help, and he’d showed up. He hadn’t needed to, and she hadn’t expected him to, but he’d showed up. Not only that, but he went above and beyond by opening his house to her for the night—and now she was so fucking confused. Were they friends or not? Did she like him or not? She was attracted to him, but she couldn’t control her hormones, and they had nothing to do with her feelings.
Olivia wished she were back in her mess of an apartment. Nothing cleared her thoughts like a good deep-cleaning session. Like she always said: clean house, clean mind.
“When are you supposed to meet your landlord?” Sammy asked.
“Nine. I should head over soon if I want to make it on time.” Olivia finished the last piece of bacon and stood.
“‘Kay. Give me five minutes.”
“Excuse me?”
“I need to change, then I’ll take you to your apartment.”
“But...” She floundered, searching for an excuse. Spending more one-on-one time with Sammy was a bad idea on so many levels. “It’s Saturday. Don’t you have...stuff to do?”
Won’t Jessica be mad you’re spending the morning with your ex? And that you let me stay the night?
Olivia kept that question to herself. Judging by Jessica’s enthusiastic reception last night, the answer was probably no, and she had no desire to discuss the blonde with Sammy.
“Not until later in the day.” Sammy shrugged. “Five minutes. Be right back.”
He disappeared down the hall, leaving a flummoxed Olivia in the kitchen.
Don’t read too much into it.
Sammy wasn’t being nice because he still carried a torch for her—not that Olivia wanted him to carry a torch for her. He was nice to everyone; he couldn’t help himself. It was in his DNA.
Except, of course, for the day they broke up, but that was neither here nor there.
“That was a long time ago,” she muttered. “Stopthinking about it.”
Olivia glared at herself in the microwave door. Her midnight-dark hair hung sleek and straight past her shoulders, and thanks to the magic of concealer and mascara, she looked bright-eyed and alert despite her restless night of sleep. Her shirt was crisp, her pants fitted but comfortable.
She was a mess inside, but at least she looked perfect on the outside.
She tore her gaze away from her reflection and bounced her eyes around the room, strangely on edge. In the cold, harsh light of day, she couldn’t believe she’d broken down like that last night.
She’d called Sammy. She’d nearly cried. Thank God she hadn’t, but the impulse had been there. Over what? A little flood? Yeah, a lot of her belongings were trashed, but they could be replaced, and she was alive and unharmed. Why had she freaked out?
Olivia was the one who always stayed calm during emergencies, like when she and her friends almost burned down their hotel villa during Kris’s bachelorette weekend (don’t ask). She’d never met a crisis she couldn’t handle on her own.
“You got this,” she said. “You’ll go to your apartment, sort out this mess with the landlord, and book an Airbnb or hotel room until you can move back in.”
She loved writing her to-do lists, but saying them out loud helped, too. It was her version of positive affirmations.
“That’s gonna be expensive.”
Olivia jerked her head toward the hall, a wisp of disappointment curling through her when she saw Sammy had put a shirt on.Duh, he can’t run around San Francisco shirtless. The black T-shirt and jeans he’d donned did incredible things for his tall, muscled frame, though, so it wasn’t a total loss.