Love In Moments (Love Distilled #2) - Scarlett Cole Page 0,22
herself to not focus on how good he’d looked, or how the feel of his hands on her body again had lit a fire deep inside her. And she most definitely wouldn’t consider his little speech about how she was more than he could deal with.
She was fed up with being more than everyone had to deal with.
“Liv. Dinner? Do you want to come over?”
Olivia shook her head to clear her thoughts and to refuse. “Thanks, but I’m going to reheat leftovers and then bed.” She was certain there was a portion of the turkey chili she’d made at the weekend left in the fridge. Somewhere.
“Not happening,” Connor said. “I’ll call Charles and get you something to go. My treat. Pick it up on your way. You like the black cod, right?”
“I’ve never been happier that my hopefully-soon-to-be-brother-in-law owns a restaurant. If it’s not too much trouble, I would love that. I didn’t know Charles did takeout.”
Connor laughed. “I’m going to ignore the blatant hint that I should propose. He doesn’t, but seeing as he kicked my ass in poker last week, I think he owes me one.”
Twenty minutes later, she pushed the doors to the restaurant open. The scent of ginger and the sound of sizzling skillets greeted her, and her mouth immediately began to water.
“Do you have a reservation?” the greeter asked politely.
“I don’t. I’m just picking something up to go. It’s Olivia. Connor Finch called it in.”
“One moment and I’ll go check for you.”
Olivia looked down at her phone. Nearly nine o’clock. She could be finished with dinner and in bed before ten.
“Hey, Liv. I didn’t know you ate here. How are you?” Sarah, Anders’s sister-in-law, looked flawless in a tastefully fitted black dress.
Olivia wondered how she maintained such perfectly glowing skin. “Sarah,” she said, hugging her warmly. “It’s my sister’s partner’s place, I’m just waiting to pick up my dinner. Did you like the write-up in Simply Weddings?”
“Wasn’t it perfect? The distillery looked beautiful.”
“But no match for the bride. You looked stunning.”
Sarah grinned. “Thank you. Hey, come sit with us while you wait for your food.”
With a hand on her arm, Sarah didn’t wait for an answer before she dragged her to her table.
“Karl, look who’s here. And do you remember Anders from the wedding?”
Olivia’s heart dropped, bounced off the high-gloss floor, and resituated itself uncomfortably in her chest.
“Hey, Liv. Thanks again for such a great evening for our wedding.” Karl stood and hugged her, and Olivia responded mechanically. “Anders told us about the kitchen issue. I hope the caterers are okay.”
“They’re both great. Doria had a concussion and Anne needed surgery, but it’s all good. I’m glad you felt your experience wasn’t ruined by it.” She was rambling and knew it.
She looked at Anders, taking in his messy blond hair and intense stare. His navy sweater looked buttery soft and fit his frame to perfection.
“Hey, Anders.”
He nodded in her direction. It was polite.
It hurt.
She hadn’t expected him to stand and declare his undying love over a half-finished noodle bowl. But the cold indifference was painful.
“Anyway,” she said as brightly as she could muster. “I see my food’s ready. I’ll leave you to your dinner.”
Ignoring the slightly confused looks on Karl’s and Sarah’s faces, and the disregard in Anders’s, she hurried to the greeter to take her bag and leave.
Goddamn, this was why one-night stands didn’t work for her, even if the one night she and Anders had spent together had been nothing short of glorious.
She tugged her scarf up around her ears to keep out the cold as she furiously hammered the button for the light on the crosswalk.
Asshole.
He’d succeeded in ruining her memory of the wonderful night they’d spent together. A night that had reminded her she was human. That she was a woman with needs. That there were still parts of her that weren’t broken. He hadn’t treated her like she was fragile.
The events and memories of that night had already taken on a most wonderfully dreamlike quality.
Olivia shook her head to clear her thoughts. Why did it even bother her so much? It wasn’t like she wanted anything more from him. He was nothing more than a fantasy. He was the kind of guy that romance books were written about. Girl next door swept off her feet by brooding hockey hero. But the last thing she needed was to be swept into the media spotlight that swirled around hockey players like a snowstorm.
The lights changed and she stepped across the street. Another