She eyed his fingers as if they were spikes on a cactus. “Why are you asking?”
He hadn’t expected her question. Logan couldn’t remember the last time—if ever—a woman had offered any resistance to his interest in her. One side of his mouth lifted. “We’re at a wedding. There’s music.” He took a step closer and brought his hand to his hip. “I’m Logan Travers, Josh’s brother.”
Her big gray eyes flicked to his before returning to the dance floor. “I know who you are, and I’m guessing Sara put you up to this.”
He didn’t bother to deny it. “I don’t know her well, but she’s pretty insistent when she wants something.”
“They’ve left,” the woman answered tonelessly. “You’re off the hook.”
That was exactly what he’d wanted mere minutes ago, but now he felt like he was getting the brush-off. “You don’t think she’ll be looking for a report after the honeymoon?”
“You seem to know Sara better than you think.” Her mouth curved into a genuine smile. Logan lifted his hand to his collar again, unable to explain the heat that shot through his spine. The woman stood and he was surprised at her height, especially since her shoes had very little heel.
She was nowhere near as tall as he was, but at six-foot-three he was used to towering over most people. She was just a slip of a thing but only had to tip her head a bit to look him in the eye. Suddenly he wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and discover if she’d fit there as well as he thought she would.
“I’m Olivia,” she said and extended her hand.
He covered her fingers in his and tugged her toward the dance floor.
“You don’t have to do this,” she protested.
“I want to.” He pulled her into his arms, maybe a bit closer than was necessary.
Automatically, her left hand came to rest on his shoulder as he kept her right one wrapped in his. He couldn’t help but notice the enormous diamond on her ring finger. He was almost blinded as it caught the light. Sara had asked him to dance with her single friend, but the ring meant there was more to the story.
He tried to ignore his curiosity as his fingers brushed the gauzy fabric of her dress along her back. A few pieces of mahogany-colored hair fell loose against her neck and he reveled in their softness as the strands grazed his cheek. She smelled like flowers, and he resisted the urge to bury his face in the crook of her neck and breathe in the fragrance.
He gave himself a few moments to regain his control. Clearly he’d been too long without the company of a woman based on his body’s reaction to Olivia. She wasn’t his type in any way. She was too refined, too fragile, too reserved. Logan liked his female companions loud and fun. He was in it for a down-and-dirty good time. Everything about Olivia screamed out of your league. He was smart enough to believe it.
“Why don’t you have a date?” he couldn’t help asking.
He felt her body stiffen but her voice was calm when she answered. “My husband was a serial cheater who ran off with his secretary a few months ago.”
His step almost faltered at her blunt honesty. He leaned back to look into her eyes. “Then he didn’t deserve you in the first place,” he told her quietly.
Her breath hitched as her mouth formed a perfect O. There was a bleakness in her gaze, a quiet desperation that Logan hadn’t seen in a woman since he’d looked into his twin sister’s eyes almost ten years ago. Olivia Wilder was broken, he realized. He didn’t know her husband, but had the fierce desire to plow his fist into the other man’s jaw.
“He wanted to discover his bliss,” she said after a minute. “The life we had was stifling for him.”
“Tell me you’re not defending the jerk.”
She shook her head but her eyes dropped to his bow tie. “It will be better in the long run.”
“Is that what he told you?”
“It’s what I tell myself to get through each day,” she answered then blinked, her eyes filling with tears.
The music ended and she pulled away, but he held on to her hand. “Let’s get a beer.”
She shook her head as if realizing she’d revealed too much but followed as he led her off the dance floor toward the bar. He could feel the weight of the stares from the other guests. He hadn’t stepped foot in Crimson in close to a decade and saw no point in making friends during this return trip. He planned to get the hell out of town as soon as Josh and Sara returned from Hawaii.
Without letting go of Olivia’s hand, he grabbed two beers from the bartender and made a path toward the hallway that led to the stairs by the main restaurant. He wanted to head outside, but he knew it was too cold for her in that thin dress. It was late March and at the nine-thousand-foot altitude where Crimson sat nestled in a valley high in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado, the temperature at night was still below freezing.
Instead, he took her to the back of the restaurant, which was empty so late on a Saturday night. He pulled out a chair and she sank down, cradling her head in her hands as her shoulders shook.
“Go away,” she mumbled between her fingers.
Logan opened the beer bottles and sat one on the table in front of her. “Drink this.”
He took a long pull on his, then ran a hand through his hair.
“I prefer white wine,” she told him, her voice still shaky.
“I’m fresh out,” he answered and she raised her head to glare at him, wiping the tips of her long fingers across her cheeks. Good. Anger he could deal with a lot easier than sorrow.
“You don’t want them to see you hurting. They’ll take too much interest in it. That’s how small towns work.” He took several paces across the empty dining room, wondering why this woman’s sadness bothered him so much. Wondering if his advice was more for her or himself.
“Everyone in Crimson has been great to me since I arrived.” She took a sip of the beer, made a face and then swallowed another bigger drink. “Besides, I am hurting. My husband was mayor of Crimson. I had a very public image in this town. We had the perfect life. Now I look like a fool.”
“I’m not going to argue about your version of the perfect life. The fact that he cheated, then left you is his problem, not yours.”
“It’s mine when he left with all of my money and hadn’t paid our mortgage in months. He left me with nothing.” She clapped a hand over her mouth. “You don’t want to hear about my problems.”
“Don’t be too sure. Who was this pillar of the community?”
She picked at one corner of the bottle’s label. “Craig Wilder. He comes from a prominent family in Crimson.”
Logan felt his jaw clench. “I know who the Wilders are.”
“Were you friends with Craig growing up?”
He almost laughed at that one. “He went to school with my oldest brother.”
Her gaze became speculative. “How old are you, Logan?”
“Twenty-six.”
“A baby,” she whispered.
“Hardly,” he countered. “So what’s your plan now?”
She took another drink of beer. “I don’t have one. I was working on renovating the community center downtown, but it was in a volunteer capacity. I think Craig mainly gave me the job to keep me busy and unaware of his extracurricular activities. I’m not sure what happens now. The contractor heading up the remodeling was the husband of Craig’s mistress. Needless to say, I don’t think he’s too excited about a project that helps