“You’re not fine,” she said, a tingle moving down her arms. “You’re upset.”
“Yeah, I’m upset.” He straightened, his dark eyes blazing with black fire. “You’re the one who hasn’t been honest with me.”
Olli frowned and cocked her head. “What are you talking about?” Her brain was so full of all the things she’d researched about Renlund United. She knew where the stores were, and how many there were. She knew how long Frank had been CEO, and she knew how they’d been founded out of a tiny town in Texas.
“I’m talking about how you told me that website where people put up dates they need? You know, for weddings and parties and stuff? You told me it was for creepers, that women shouldn’t be on that site.”
Olli said nothing, because she knew where this was going. “I only—”
“Guess who comes right up when you search in Dreasmville?” he said over her. “Olivia Blasted Hudson.” He held up his phone. “Looking for a man with the perfect nose for a couple of hours.” He read in a sarcastic voice. “Blaine told me. Blaine, Olli.” He shook his head, his mouth pressed into a thin line.
“Why was Blaine on the site?” she asked, which totally wasn’t the right question.
“He was investigating it for a friend,” he said, his voice raw now. “By the way, he contacted you, and he’ll be here next Wednesday, as you asked him to be.” Spur threw down the antibacterial wipe. “Maybe he can be your fake boyfriend for a couple of weeks.” He glared at her as he strode by her. She turned, dumbfounded, and watched as he walked out of the perfumery without another word.
Olli flinched when the door swung closed, the slam loud and nearly deafening. “What just happened?” She looked at the half-clean perfumery, sure Spur would come back. When she’d overheard his half of a conversation with his mother, he’d chased after her.
Her mind racing as fast as her pulse, she peeled the gloves from her hands and tossed them onto the nearest table. Then she went after Spur.
Outside, the sun hung low in the sky, but Olli didn’t need to look west. She faced east, wondering if Spur had driven or walked to her place. He’d done both in the past, and she hadn’t heard his truck.
In the distance, she saw a horse galloping away from her, and she knew how he’d gotten there. “Spur!” she yelled, but he was way too far away to hear her. Desperation filled her, and she looked toward the house.
She went that way, because she needed car keys to get to Bluegrass Ranch, and they currently sat in a little basket on her kitchen counter. She retrieved them, her confidence and courage still strong. They stuck with her as she navigated the roads between her land and the ranch.
By the time she made it through the gates over there and had turned the wrong direction down not just one, but two, roads, Olli was fighting back tears. She pressed against them relentlessly, wishing she owned a horse and could just take the straightest path to Spur.
She finally pulled up to the house, where no less than four pickup trucks were parked. Her dinky sedan looked so out of place, and Olli also realized that she’d never been here before as Spur’s girlfriend. She’d only stepped foot on the ranch the one time, for the picnic last weekend.
He always came to her house or they went out. She wasn’t sure what to make of that, and she peered up at the impressive house. It was made of stone and siding, and someone took very, very good care of it. The landscaping was likewise pristine, and Olli struggled just to keep breathing.
There was no way she could get out of this car and go up to the door.
“Do it,” she told herself. “You have to do it.” Not only had Spur misunderstood, but Frank Renlund would be on her doorstep in less than twenty-four hours. She needed Spur, and she cursed herself for thinking she could use that website to get a few male testers for her new cologne.
Spur had already helped her, but she knew the basis for a good product was getting a lot of feedback before it was finalized. She’d been planning to mix up the top five colognes as identified by Spur, give the man she’d hired from the site twenty bucks and a sub sandwich for his time, and get the data she needed.
She’d done nothing wrong.
What did Spur think she’d done? He hadn’t said before he’d left. She’d never seen him so angry, and her fingers shook as she reached for the door handle.
Get out, get up there, ring the doorbell, she recited mentally. She had to do this. It would be hard for less than sixty seconds.
She stood next to her car, the country stillness surrounding her so calm. The serenity of the scene reminded her of why she’d never left Dreamsville and why she’d decided to buy outside of town.
She couldn’t move, because she just wanted to go home. She could change into her sweats and finish cleaning the perfumery in the morning.
No, you can’t, she told herself. You have to do it tonight to get that polish smell out before Frank arrives. She started a mental argument with herself, and she honestly wasn’t sure what to do.
“Olli?”
She blinked and turned toward the male voice. Trey stood there, and he glanced at the house and then her before detouring in her direction. “You okay? Do you need to see Spur?”
She nodded, because if Trey would take her to the door, she might be able to go.
“All right,” he said with a smile. “C’mon then. We don’t bite.” He gestured for her to follow him, and he went past the trucks parked in the driveway and inside the garage. Olli hadn’t even seen that it was open.
Trey went up the few steps there and opened the door, calling, “Is Spur around?” before he even stepped inside.