“It’s Olli,” Spur said.
“So what?’
“She’s our next-door neighbor,” Spur said. “I don’t know. I just…I’ve never admitted that I liked her for more than that.”
“Maybe it’s time to admit it.”
“I just did,” Spur said.
“To her,” Blaine said.
That would be much harder, Spur knew. He nodded anyway and said, “I have to get going. I said I’d be there at seven-thirty.” He glanced at his knitting basket on the nightstand and instinctively reached for one of the trivets he’d finished a few nights ago.
He pulled up to Olli’s house several minutes later, the blue and white trivet mocking him now. At the same time, he wanted to share it with her. He grabbed it before he could get too deep inside his thoughts and headed for the front door.
He’d stood here last night and rung this same doorbell. It was just as nerve-racking tonight, listening to the chimes ring through the house on the other side of the door. Olli’s footsteps came closer; the door opened.
She stood there wearing a pair of skin-tight black jeans and a blouse the color of pink lemonade. He wanted to scoop her right into his arms and breathe in her tantalizing scent. Instead, he thrust the trivet toward her. “I brought you this,” he said, hating himself a little more with every word.
Olli took it from him, a smile spreading across her face. “Thank you, Spur.” She moved back a couple of steps. “Come in for a sec. I have to find my shoes.”
He noticed her bare feet then, and he sure did like the casualness of her. Gone was her embarrassment from that morning, when she’d also been shoeless. Of course, she’d also been in her pajamas and worried about what he’d think of her messy house.
He didn’t mind much, because his house had been utter chaos growing up. Most of the time, it still was. He lived with three of his brothers, while the other four lived in a second property on the north side of the ranch. When he’d been married to Katie, the two of them had lived in a house on the outskirts of Dreamsville, a short six-minute drive to the ranch and stables.
Spur closed the door behind him as Olli put the trivet on the kitchen counter. It had been cleared of all the stuff he’d seen there that morning, and he looked around at the house. “You cleaned up,” he said.
“I called a maid service,” she said over her shoulder. “Don’t be impressed.”
He watched her hips swing as she left him in the living area and went down the hall, and he was definitely impressed. He cleared his throat, wishing he wasn’t quite so hormonal, and glanced around again.
Olli had pictures of her family on the table near the front door. He eased further into the house and found watercolor paintings on the walls in the living room, tasteful furniture he hadn’t noticed that morning because he’d been so focused on Olli, and scented candles on every available surface.
He picked up the one nearest to him and examined the label. Midnight Messenger it read, and it promised Good News, Sweet Dreams, and A Hopeful Future in the deep blue candle wax.
Below those words sat the scents of pineapple, lavender, and toasted sugar. He lifted the candle to his nose, noting it had not been lit before, and took a deep breath in. “That is nice,” he said, replacing the candle on the shelf.
He couldn’t even imagine coming up with unique names for candles, and then naming scents things like Good News.
He marveled at Olli’s creativity and reached for the next candle. This one was bright white, and it was called Get Your Man. Spur blinked, wondering what a woman would smell like to get the man she wanted. Was it the same for every man? Did they all like the same things?
He didn’t read the label and went straight for the sniff. “Yep,” he said as he took in the floral and minty notes. “That would work for me.”
“Would it?” Olli asked, and Spur dropped the candle in surprise.
The glass shattered on the hard floor, and horror struck Spur right between the ribs. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly, taking a step. His cowboy boots crunched over the broken glass though, and he froze again.
He looked from the mess on the floor to Olli, and she burst out laughing. Spur wasn’t sure if he should join her or just hold very still while she cleaned up.
“You’re digging yourself further and further into the hole,” she said as she went into the kitchen. “I mean, I just had the whole house cleaned, and the first thing you do is throw broken glass everywhere.” She retrieved a broom and dustpan, giving him a flirty grin while she did.
“I’m sorry,” he said again.
She started sweeping up the bigger pieces of glass, and they made tinkling sounds as they touched each other. “You thought it smelled good? That it would’ve worked for you?”
“Yes,” he said carefully, trying not to give too much away.
“What did you like about it?”