carriage-house-turned-garage. All the lights in the main house were off, which meant Mrs. Osborn, her landlady, had gone to bed.
Olivia let herself into her apartment, dumped her purse on the little round table in her kitchen and turned on the light. Her camera still hung around her neck. Olivia often had to remind herself to remove the camera when she was at work or going into a store. It was like an extra limb, an appendage that brought her artistry into being.
Carefully, she slipped the strap off and set the camera next to her purse.
Next, she filled a glass of water from the antique faucet and watered the potted herb garden sheâd been growing all winter in the large kitchen window. On Sunday sheâd take her seedlings out to the raised garden sheâd had Luke Bosworth build for her last summer and plant the herbs she and her mother would use in their special dishes all summer long. Picking up the rosemary bush and smelling its pungent leaves made her smile. Olivia loved rosemary, sage and mint, and often boiled them to fill her rooms with natural fragrance.
Olivia rubbed a few leaves between her fingers and then washed her hands with lavender soap to remove the horse smell.
She lifted her palms to her nose. There was still a trace of Rowan. She closed her eyes, but all she could see was Rafe. She pictured his arctic-blue eyes, flashing with a fire so fierce and compelling that it took her breath away.
When sheâd seen him in Ginaâs kitchen, sheâd thought he was good-looking. But between chatting with him at dinner and their moment in the stable, something had changed. She felt drawn to him like a magnet to steel. And she couldnât get him out of her mind.
She slumped down on the wrought-iron antique ice cream chair beside the table and dropped her head into her hands. âJust how big a fool did I make of myself?â
When heâd found her in his stable and she was making friends with his horse...how had that looked, really? Like she was trespassing?
Even now, embarrassment flamed her cheeks. Sheâd been trying to get just the right light on Rowan as he âposedâ for her in the back of his stall. She must have looked ridiculous.
He probably saw my butt hanging over the gate, hair swirling all over my face... I was acting like a complete idiot.
âThat must have been attractive,â she moaned sarcastically. Not that it mattered. Sheâd never date a gambler, anyway. She probably wouldnât even see him again. Heâd said he rarely came to town, rarely did anything for fun....
Her breath clung to her ribs.
The baby shower. Sheâd see Rafe again at Gabe and Lizâs baby shower.
She was filled with anticipation. And dread. She wanted to see him in the worst way, but she also hoped they would never cross paths. Somehow, meeting Rafe had unearthed the most painful parts of her past. Suddenly, she was sharing her every move with the shadow of the terrified child sheâd once been. She remembered hearing her motherâs sobs late at night, when there wasnât enough money for food or their rent was late. She despised the mean kids at school who had mocked her because her clothes came from the Goodwill and sheâd outgrown her shoes. She didnât go to ballet or camp. She didnât join the Girl Scouts because the uniforms were too expensive. All because of her fatherâs addiction to gambling.
Gambling had destroyed Oliviaâs young life. It had damaged her mother so greatly that Julia had never wanted to remarry. Julia didnât trust anyone, and sheâd taught Olivia to operate in the same manner. They depended on each other. No others were allowed into their little circle.
There were thin scabs over Oliviaâs childhood wounds, and Rafeâs presence was opening them up. He was more dangerous than any man Olivia could have conjured.
Rafe had been so quiet coming into the stable and sheâd been so immersed in