Winning Olivia's Heart
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Mary Davis
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Chapter 1
San Juan Island, Washington, 1899
Olivia Bradshaw stopped midstride on the brick walk outside her home. She adjusted the quilt-wrapped box in her arms.
Troy Morrison leaned against the large oak tree out front. He wore a white shirt and brown trousers with a matching vest and cap. A slow smile stretched his mouth.
Her heart sped up.
Troy might very well be the most handsome man on earth. His chiseled face, deep blue eyes and dimpled smile would melt any female heart. His dark wavy hair was part tamed and part wild, just like the man. Though he worked mostly indoors at the bank, cutting wood and other physical work gave him a well-muscled body.
He pushed away from the tree. “Hello, Liv.”
The problem wasn’t that he was incredibly good-looking or that women—both single and married—fawned over him. The problem lay in his knowing that his appearance had a devastating effect on women, yet not understanding how it hurt her to see women flirting with him.
No, it wasn’t the flirting. She understood completely why women would flirt with him. The real problem was that he did nothing to discourage it. He told her time and time again that he cared naught for any woman save her. And she told him time and time again that she didn’t like the flirting.
“Troy. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” But she’d known he’d come. And that sent a thrill through her.
He held his arms out from his sides. “Yet here I am. You look lovely in that dress. It matches your eyes.”
The very reason she had chosen this light blue cotton dress. She had hoped he’d notice. “This old thing?”
“All the men will want to spend time with you.” His gaze shifted past her to the porch, where her grandmother stood next to Olivia’s mother in her wheelchair. He doffed his jaunty cap and gave a great sweeping bow. “Mrs. Bradshaw, you are looking beautiful today. Granny Bradshaw, as spry as ever.”
She heard Gran plant a kiss on her hand and blow it to Troy. Olivia sighed. If Gran were fifty years younger, she would probably run off with Troy if he would agree.
Olivia’s mother spoke. “It’s always good to see you, Troy.”
He chuckled. “I wish everyone in your household felt the same.”
Oh, brother. Olivia shifted her bundle again and continued walking. Her boots tapped on the bricks.
He claimed to love her. At times she believed him. But others?
He hurried up to her. “Let me carry that for you.” He reached for her quilt-wrapped box.
She swiveled and stepped around him. “Thank you, but I have it.” It would be imprudent of her to allow him to carry her parcel. ’Twas the picnic box she’d made for the box social, one of the many festivities planned for this Fourth of July. She’d wrapped a quilt around it just so he could not see what her box looked like. It would serve him right to see her eating with some other fellow. Then he’d know what it felt like.
He stepped in front of her and wouldn’t let her continue.
“Mr. Morrison, please remove yourself from my path.”
“Not until you allow me to carry your burden.”
She narrowed her eyes.
He narrowed his eyes back and leaned in. “I know what you have. Your supper for the auction.”
“And you want to know what my box looks like.”
He slapped his hand onto his chest. “I promise not to peek.”
She found that hard to believe. “So you don’t plan to bid on mine?” Disappointing.
“Don’t worry, Liv. You’ll be eating with me.”
“How if you don’t know what mine looks like?”
“I know you. So I’ll know which box is yours.” He snatched it from her grasp.
She gasped. “You had better not peek.”
“I give you my word as a gentleman.”
“That means little. You would need to be a gentleman first.”
He dipped his head toward the street. “Shall we?”
She headed in that direction. “I didn’t make any of your favorites.”
“I like everything you cook.”
He was so infuriating! They strolled down Spring Street and turned onto Second.
“When are you going to forgive me?” He glanced at her sideways.
She gazed into his deep blue eyes. The longing tugged at her. “Perhaps tomorrow.”
“That’s what you said yesterday and the day before that and the day before that and the day before that.”
“I did not see you on Friday, so I couldn’t have said it to you then.”
“Oh, I’m sure you said it.”
How did he know? “You think you know everything, don’t you?”
“Not at all. There are a great many things I don’t know. Like how deep the ocean is. Or where rainbows end.” He tilted his head toward her. “Or when you’re going to forgive me. But pretty much everything else about you, I do know.”
He couldn’t possibly.
The church came into view. People had begun to arrive. Since it was a nearly cloudless day once the morning fog had burned off, the table for the boxes stood outside along the north side of the building.
She stopped at the edge of the lawn. “I’ll take that now.”
He held the box away from her. “I’ve got it.”
So he was going to peek, after all.
He strode up to the table and set the bundle down. “Miss Bradshaw’s contribution.” He shook Pastor Kearns’s hand. “I hope the box social brings in a goodly sum of money for the school.”
“It usually does.” The pastor reached for the quilt. “That’s quite a bundle.”
Troy put his hand on top of it. “She doesn’t want me to see hers. Unfair advantage.” He winked.
The pastor smiled. “I see.”
“Good day, Pastor.” Troy turned away from the table, scooped up Olivia’s hand and kissed it. “I will see you later.”
She watched him go. He didn’t once glance over his shoulder to see which box was hers. He met up with Nick and George, and the three went off together.
“Olivia, your quilt.”
She turned to the pastor and took the quilt. “Thank you.” When she turned back, Troy was gone. Disappointment tapped her on the shoulder. He didn’t care. No. She was glad he hadn’t seen.
“Olivia!” Felicity and her entire family marched across the grass. Felicity held a box for the social. As did her four sisters and her mother. Her youngest sister at fifteen, she was finally allowed to participate this year. The Devlins made quite the contribution with six boxes. Mr. Devlin would be sure to win his wife’s.
Felicity set her box on the table and gave Olivia a hug. “Where’s Troy gone off to? After what happened last year, I would think you would be keeping him close. Today of all days.”
Olivia dropped her quilt in the growing pile to be used later. She looped her arm through her friend’s and they strolled down the street. “He’d best behave himself. I can’t watch him every minute.”
“Then you’ve forgiven him?”
“I want to.” At first, she had been too hurt to forgive him. Then her pride had kept her quiet. And then it became this game of cat and mouse. For the life of her, she couldn’t figure out who was who. Sometimes she felt like the cat, and others the mouse. “I just don’t know if I can trust him.”
“So why are you letting him go off by himself?”
“He wasn’t by himself. He was with Nick and George.”
“That isn’t any better.”
Olivia and Felicity headed toward the games. Standing on the sidelines, she watched Troy at the starting line of the sack race. He glanced her direction and winked. The gun went off while Troy wasn’t paying attention. A poor start for him. At least two hops behind everyone.
Go! Go! Hop faster! Faster!
Each of his hops was longer than anyone else’s. He caught up and took the lead as he crossed the finish line. Another victory.
She clapped enthusiastically and then suddenly stopped. Did he always win at everything he did? She couldn’t remember a time he hadn’t.
Felicity nudged her. “I won’t tell him.”
She could always count on her friend. “Let’s do the three-legged race.”
“No. I don’t want to look like a fool in front of Nick.”
“Come on. It’ll be fun.”
Felicity folded her arms and shook her head.
A strip of cloth dangled in front of Olivia’s face, and Troy spoke from behind her. “I’ll be your partner. Always.”
Taking her time, she swiveled around. “No, thank you.”
“Come on, Liv. I know you want to. With me as your partner, you’re sure to win.”
A sugary voice behind Troy said, “I’ll be your partner.”
Violet Jones sidled up next to Troy and coiled her hands around his muscled arm.
Troy had the gall to smile at Violet. “That’s right kind of you, but—”
“He already has a partner.” Olivia grabbed his other arm and pulled him to the starting line. She was the cat at the moment.
His breath tickled her ear as he whispered, “You are quite lovely when you’re jealous.”
“You would love it if I were jealous, wouldn’t you? Well, I’m not.”
“Could have fooled me.” He smirked and held up the cloth. “Would you do the honors?”
She tied the strip around their ankles and stood. Heat rushed through her at being so close to him.
“Put your arm around me.” He hooked his around her waist without delay. “Remember to start with our tied feet first.” He lifted his foot to make sure hers went with his. He reached around his back, pulled her arm around his waist, and held her hand to his hip.
She was twenty-three years old. What was she doing participating in a race? She would look the fool, as Felicity had said. But the only person’s opinion she cared about was lashed to her ankle. And he was taking advantage of this opportunity to be near her. Closer than would normally be socially acceptable.
The gun sounded, and all eight teams hobbled forward.
After only one overlong step, Troy matched her gait.
Olivia wanted to finish first. If she could just lengthen her stride a little. Instead, she tripped. As she felt herself going down, she found it didn’t matter if she didn’t win, but Troy should.
Before she realized what he was doing, Troy tightened his hold around her waist and lifted her off the ground. “I’ve got you.”
He certainly did. She slapped her free hand on her straw sailor hat to keep it on her head.
With her feet dangling, Troy made up the difference. Unencumbered by her shorter legs, he crossed the finish line at the same time as the lead pair.
A tie.
Troy set her feet back on the ground. “Sorry I couldn’t give you a clean win, but you were still first.”
He was taking the blame for them not being the sole winners when it was her who put them behind by tripping. If he would only take responsibility for real transgressions, they wouldn’t have any problems.
She tried unsuccessfully to bend to untie their ankles. “I need to remove the cloth.”
Troy kept his arm solidly around her. “I kind of like you being attached to me.”
And just like that, he’d reduced her to the mouse. “I am not going to walk around all day like this. Now unhand me or I’ll—”
“You’ll what, Liv?” He smiled, flashing his dimples and perfect white teeth. “What could you possibly do?”
She couldn’t think of anything, so she pinched his arm.
He laughed. “You’ll have to do more than that. I have you right where I want you.”
She wanted to throw a tantrum, but that would only encourage him. She hated being the mouse. She spoke in a soft, calm voice. “I don’t think you do, or you wouldn’t need to resort to a tether and manhandling me.”
His smile faded. He crouched and untied them. He looped the cloth around her neck. “You won this time. I will see you later.” He walked away.
She had regained her standing as the cat. But her victory left a hollow place inside her.
Felicity joined her. “I don’t see why you don’t just forgive him and marry him. Then all the other women would know he is taken.”
“You think a wedding band would stop them from throwing themselves at him?” It hadn’t stopped Widow Baxter from stealing Olivia’s father. “Just because he’s handsome and charming, he thinks he can do anything he wants without consequences. When will he realize some of his actions hurt others?” If she didn’t love him so much, the pain wouldn’t cut so deep.
“It’s not his fault ladies find him irresistible.”
“But he doesn’t discourage them. Just once I wish he would. But he’ll see what it feels like when someone else wins my box.”
“You didn’t tell him which box is yours?”
Olivia shook her head.
“You don’t want to eat with him?”
“Of course I do. But if he has to watch me eat with another fellow, it will be worth it. Maybe he’ll finally understand what I’ve been trying to tell him all these years.”
“That means he will win someone else’s box. Do you really want him eating with another girl? Especially after last year?”
Olivia recalled the image of Violet Jones in his arms, kissing him. “He doesn’t have to bid on any boxes.”
“A man like Troy is not going to go hungry or endure the humility of being alone.” Felicity took her arm. “Want to go on a hayride before the auction?”
“That would be fun.”
The Pattersons gave hay wagon rides for a penny apiece.
When Olivia and Felicity arrived, Nick, George and Troy waited their turns. Or rather Troy waited for her, Nick for Felicity, and George for Anita Patterson.
Nick and George helped their girls up into the back of the hay-filled wagon.
“Come on, Olivia,” Felicity said.
Olivia stepped back. “You go on. I’m going to stay here.”
Troy snagged her hand and kept her from retreating. “I’ve already paid your fare.”
She’d known he would. And she knew he would insist. He tugged her forward and lifted her up. He hustled in behind her.
The wagon lurched, and Olivia threw out her arms to balance herself.
Troy caught her around the waist. “I’ve got you.”
She lingered in his arms a moment. “You can let go of me now.”
He leaned close to her ear. “What if I don’t want to?”
Before she realized what he was doing, he pretended to lose his balance and pulled her down with him. “Oops.”
Nick and George snickered.
She tried to wiggle from his grasp. “You did that on purpose.”
“Did I?” He settled her in the hay next to him as the wagon rolled forward. “Admit it. You like being in my arms.”
She didn’t dare and straightened her hat instead.
The problem with Troy was that he made too many presumptions. And the most irritating thing about them was he was generally right.
The mouse once more. “If it weren’t for the wagon jostling me about, I would extricate myself from you.”
He nudged her. “Good thing I told Mr. Patterson to find the bumpiest roads he could.”
Good thing.
She did enjoy being near Troy. But she couldn’t let him know that, or he would be impossible. Correction, more impossible.
After the hayride, Troy escorted her to the church lawn where the auction was about to start. The single ladies gathered to one side, the single men the other. The wives who’d brought boxes stood with their husbands.
Pastor Kearns rapped a hammer on a chunk of wood lying on the table to quiet the crowd. “Remember that the money raised today will purchase a new roof and new books for the schoolhouse. So bid high.” He held up the first box, yellow with a blue ribbon. “What’s my bid for this lovely box? I smell apple pie.”
Troy raised his hand. “A nickel.” He looked at her and winked. He was insufferable.
Olivia straightened a little. That wasn’t her box. Troy would end up with another lady’s box right from the start. She hoped it belonged to one of the older ladies who participated just to help raise money.
Several other men bid, but Troy didn’t again. Mr. Zimmerman won his wife’s box.
Troy again started the bidding at a nickel. Did he really expect to win a box bidding like that? But when he opened the bidding at a nickel for the next several boxes, she knew he wasn’t trying to win any of them. He was waiting. Waiting for her to give away when her box came up.
’Twas simple. She would outwit him. So when the pastor held up her red-and-black box, she acted as she had with all the other boxes.
The pastor looked straight at Troy. “Do I have an opening bid?”
Troy nodded. “Five dollars.”
The crowd drew in a collective gasp.
No! He couldn’t possibly know. Someone else bid. Pleeease, someone else bid.
