Joshua Healy (The Mitchell/Healy Family #10)(2)

“What?” I ask while starting the engine.

“I should have recognized you.”

“Recognized me?”

“Healy. Your name. I know who you are.”

This doesn’t deter me. Most women would jump on the chance to become involved with one of the most well known cattle ranchers in the state. “And?”

“You used to date Livvy.”

The mere mention of her name makes the hair stand at attention on my arms. It’s like a sharp knife cutting through my thick skin.

Olivia Parrish; my first – everything.

Our friendship was forbidden from the start, her being Wes’ younger na?ve sister. They’d moved to another town, us running into each other at a party by chance when I was thirteen and she was twelve. The moment I set eyes on her I knew I wanted her, and so it began, the chase that is. She made me work for every single kiss, each embrace, and everything else that came after.

What started as a crush, blossomed into something neither of us has ever been willing to label. Olivia is too good for me; her words not mine. She’s made it clear I’m not mature enough to live in her world. An artist by choice, she lives an eclectic lifestyle. She’s weird. She dresses like a hippy, drinks weird teas, wears flowers in her hair, and listens to the most absurd music I’ve ever heard. We have nothing in common except for the way we f*ck. She knows parts of me no other has had the opportunity. She can read me, but more than anything she can seduce me by simply coming into the room. Her tantric eyes make me want things I know I shouldn’t ask for, and when she willingly obliges, I’m a mess for weeks at a time. It never failed, if I was with someone else she’d show up just to prove she could have me, and it was the same when I learned she was dating another guy. I’d make my presence known and take what I wanted with little effort. We’re toxic around each other.

I’ve tried to be with her in a real relationship, to straighten my act up enough to get her attention, but it’s never to her standards. Olivia doesn’t want me as a boyfriend. She never has. She wants someone she can walk all over. She likes knowing she has full control over where we stand, and sometimes I hate it, but other times I admit my addiction to the little bits she allows me to have.

What I feel for her is one-sided. She’s the only woman to ever rip my heart into shreds. She’s the only woman I’d gladly allow to do it again. I can’t resist her, and that’s why hearing her name really digs deep into my gut. She’s forbidden fruit, my best friend’s kin. I can’t fight for her. I won’t humiliate myself. She’s made it clear we’re not going to see each other again. She’s back in New York living her life to the fullest. Whatever we had for the past years on and off is just that. The past.

“Hello? Are you still with me?”

I realize I’m staring off into the abyss, while this beautiful woman tries to gather my attention. “Yeah, sorry. So, you know, Liv?” I’ve never been one to call her Livvy. She prefers it, so I do it to get a rise out of her whenever I have the opportunity.

“She was my best friend in middle school. I mean, we haven’t talked in years, but I remember the mention of your name quite a few times.”

“Then you’ll be glad to know we’re not an item and haven’t been for a while. If you don’t believe me you can call and ask her yourself. Liv is in New York. As far as I can tell she’s never coming back.”

She shakes her head and peers out the opposite window. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not like I’m going to sleep with you so you’ll buy a car. I’m not that desperate. I can get another job somewhere else.”

She’s to the point. I like that, but it doesn’t mean the challenge is over. I don’t give up so easily.

Waiting until we pull out from the parking lot, I turn on some country tunes and focus on the road. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“What does that have to do with buying a car?”

There’s a cackle before a response. “It’s a personal question. Small talk.”

“I’d hardly consider that small.”

“It’s not like it matters. I could give a shit if you have a boyfriend. If I want something I usually get it.”

“Not happening,” she attests.

I glance in her direction. “You’re quick to say that, but I beg to differ. I’m pretty certain I can get at least a date out of you.”

“I’m engaged.”

A check of her left hand tells me she’s lying. “What’s his name? I’ll ask if he minds.”

This causes her to laugh. “Wow.”

“How’s tonight at six?”

“I have plans,” she tells me.

“Seven then. Better yet, I’ll pick you up from work.”

“Do you have a hearing problem?”

“Nope, I just refuse to take no for an answer, especially when I know the two of us could have a damn good time together.”

She’s unwilling, simply assuming that if she gives it enough time I’ll back off.

“Come on? What do you have to lose? I don’t bite, unless it’s what you’re into. I’m not asking you to move in with me, just dinner and late night romp in my sheets. You’re an adult. We have chemistry.”