Lucille sighed dreamily and turned to Amelia. “You did good with this one, honey.”
Amelia nodded. “I sure did.”
Olivia couldn’t pay attention to their audience or she’d lose it. “Cole, don’t. I can’t— Not unless you mean it—”
“I’ve never meant anything more,” he said.
She wanted to ask if that could be true, if the promises he was making were real, if she could trust how he was making her feel. But she didn’t, because Cole never did anything he didn’t mean. He meant this; he meant every second of it.
“I love the way you’re always willing to jump in feetfirst,” he said, “whether that’s into the water on top of my head—”
She choked out a half laugh, half sob.
“—Or into a party with me to meet the insanity that is my family—”
“Your family is amazing,” she said.
“It’s true,” Cara said to Lucille. “We’re all pretty amazing.”
Cole ignored this and turned back to Olivia. “You’re the amazing one,” he told her. “I wish you could see yourself the way I do. See yourself telling stories to the kids at Drama Days, or how you handle Lucky Harbor’s crazy geriatric gang—”
“Hey,” Lucille said.
“You change the chemistry in a room, Olivia,” he said, ignoring Lucille. “You make it good. And then there’s the way you have of taking the path that works for you. Even when you’re half convinced you’re going to get hurt along the way, you still go for it.”
“It’s called being ornery.”
“Yeah,” he said. “We’re a good match there.” He pointed to their audience, mostly his family and Lucille, as if to say Don’t you dare comment.
Olivia snorted and he smiled. “And I love that you don’t put up with my shit.” He cupped her face. “And God, I especially love the way you look at me.”
“Like you’re crazy?”
He flashed a grin. “Yeah. That. You tried to save me, remember?”
Like she could forget. “But you didn’t need saving,” she reminded him.
“Yeah, I did. I just didn’t know it. But that’s not the point.”
“It’s not?”
“No. It’s that you went for it. You gave me you.”
Their audience gave a collective sigh and Olivia’s eyes filled. It was too much, so much. Everything. “Cole—”
“I love you, Olivia. I love who you were, and I love who you are. I love everything about you.”
She blinked. “Everything, except…”
“No exceptions,” he said, voice low but fierce. “I just want to be the man you can be yourself with.”
“That’s a lot for me.”
“Too much?”
She thought about how she’d felt when she’d thought they were over, how her heart had cracked into pieces. “I’ve recently learned that it’s never too much, not with you.”
He brought their joined hands up to brush a kiss over her knuckles. “You only need to tell me when you need space.”
“What if I want you in my space?”
He smiled. “I like the sound of that. A whole hell of a lot. My world doesn’t work without you in it, Olivia. I missed you.” He pulled her into him from head to toe, and every glorious thing in between, and she became aware of one particular part that missed her more than the others.
She lifted her gaze and met his. “What am I going to do with you?”
He dipped his head and brushed his mouth to her ear. “I have a few suggestions,” he whispered.
She laughed and then dropped her head to his chest. “No, seriously. What am I going to do with you?”
“Keep me?” He tilted her head up, and his grin was gone. “Listen, I know I’m not very good at this, keeping the right woman in my life. That’s because I’ve never had her before. But that woman is you, Olivia. I’m willing to work on it, even beg you for a learning curve if I have to.”
She felt her throat tighten. “Oh, you’re most definitely better at this than you think.”
His thumbs stroked her jaw. “Is that a yes?”
“I didn’t hear a question.”
“Neither did I!” Lucille turned to the audience. “Did any of you hear a question?”
A resounding “no” went through the crowd, but Cole had eyes only for Olivia. “Will you give me another shot at your heart, Olivia Bentley?”
She smiled. “Not necessary. You already own it.”
Callie runs a one-stop wedding
website, even though she
doesn’t believe in love.
Tanner knows love exists,
but he can do without it.
So what are the odds that
they’re right for each other?
Please turn this page for a preview of
One in a Million.
Chapter 1
I want a hoedown wedding.”
Callie Sharpe, wedding site designer and planner, was professional enough to not blink at this news. “A hoedown wedding.”
“Yes,” her client said via Skype. “The bridesmaids want to wear cowboy boots, and Jimmy wants to eat pigs in a blanket at the reception. Can the wedding site you’re creating for me reflect all that?”
“Sure,” Callie said to her laptop. After all, she loved pigs in a blanket, so who was she to judge? “It’s your day, whatever you want.”
Her bride-to-be smiled. “You really know your wedding stuff. And you always look so wonderful. I love your clothes. Can I see what shoes you’re wearing? I bet they’re fab, too.”
Callie didn’t let her easy smile slip. “Oh, but this is about your wedding, not my shoes. Let’s talk about your invitations—”
“Please?”
Callie sighed. For the camera, she wore a silky cami and blazer. Out of camera range, she wore capri yoga pants, which doubled as PJs, and…bunny slippers. “Whoops,” she said. “I’ve got another call. I’ll get back to you when your site is up and running.”
“But—”
She disconnected and grimaced. “Sorry,” she said to the client who could no longer hear her. She went back to work, clicking through page after page of the season’s new wedding dresses, uploading the ones she liked best. She switched to the latest invitation designs next. And then unique party favors and stylish accessories.
You really know your wedding stuff.
Unfortunately, this was true. She’d been a bride once, the most silly, hopeful, eager bride ever. Well, an almost bride. She’d gotten all the way to the church before getting stood up, and since that memory still stung, she shoved it aside. She’d married something else instead—she’d united her strong IT skills with her secret, deeply buried love of all things romantic and had created TyingTheKnot.com. On a daily basis, she dealt with demanding, temperamental, and, in lots of cases, batshit-crazy brides, all looking for their happily-ever-after. She’d made it her job to give them the dream.
It was exhausting. Standing, Callie stretched and moved to the wall of windows. Her apartment was one of three in a battered old warehouse that had once been a cannery, then a saltwater taffy manufacturer, and then, in the fifties, a carnival boardinghouse. The building wasn’t much to write home about, but the view made the lack of insulation and heat worth it.
Mostly.
Today the waters of Lucky Harbor were a gorgeous azure blue, dotted with whitecaps thanks to a brutal mid-November wind that was whistling through the tangle of steel rafters, metal joists, and worthless heating ducts above her.
Callie had grown up here in this small, quirky coastal Washington town sandwiched between the Pacific and the Olympic Mountains, and once upon a time, she hadn’t been able to get out of here fast enough.
She was back now, and not exactly because she wanted to be.
There was a man in the water swimming parallel to the shore. Passing the pier, he moved toward the north end and the row of warehouses, including the one she stood in.
Transfixed, she watched the
steady strokes and marveled at his speed. He might as well have been a machine, given how efficiently and effectively he cut through the water.
Callie had been in those waters, although only in the summertime. She couldn’t even swim to the end of the pier and back without needing life support.
But the man kept going.
And going.
After a long time, he finally turned and headed in, standing up in the water when he got close enough. After the incredible strength he’d shown swimming in the choppy surf, she was surprised when he limped from it to the sand. Especially since she couldn’t see anything wrong with him, at least from this distance.
He was in a full wetsuit, including something covering his head and most of his face. He peeled this off as he dropped to his knees in the sand, and she gasped.
Military-short dark hair and dark eyes. And a hardness to his jaw that said he’d had the dark life to go with it.
He looked just like…oh, God, it was.
Tanner Riggs.
While she was standing there staring, her cell phone started ringing with the I Love Lucy theme song, signaling that her grandma was calling. Eyes still glued to the beach—and the very hot man now unzipping his wetsuit—she reached for her phone. “Did you know Tanner Riggs was home?” she asked in lieu of a greeting.
“Well, hello to you too, my favorite nerd-techie granddaughter.”
“I’m your only granddaughter,” Callie said.
“Well, you’re still my favorite,” Lucille said. “And yes, of course I know Tanner’s in town. He lives here now. Honey, you’re not following my Instagram or you’d already know this and much, much more.”
She didn’t touch this one. The sole reason she was back in Lucky Harbor and not in San Francisco was because of her grandma.
Callie’s dad—Lucille’s only son—had been an attorney. Actually both of her parents had, and even retired, they still liked things neat and logical.
Grandma Lucille was neither, and Callie’s parents were pretty sure her grandma was no longer playing with a full set of marbles. Callie had drawn the short stick to come back and find out what needed to be done. She’d been here several weeks, staying in the rental because she needed to be able to work in peace. Her grandma had loaned her the car since Lucille had recently been soundly rejected by the DMV for a license renewal. The two of them had daily meals together—mostly lunches, as Lucille’s social calendar made the queen of England look like a slacker. But there’d been no sign of crazy yet.
Not that Callie could give this any thought at the moment, because Tanner shoved the wetsuit down to his hips.
Holy.
Sweet.
Baby.
Jesus.
Back in her high school days, a quiet brainiac like Callie had been invisible to him. Which had never gotten in the way of her fantasies, as the teenage Tanner Riggs had been rangy, tough, and as wild as they came.
He’d filled in and out, going from a lanky teen to a man who looked like every inch of him was solid muscle, not a spare ounce in sight.
Was he still tough and wild and a whole lot of trouble?
Oblivious to both her musings and the fact that she was drooling over him, Tanner moved to the fifty-foot sport boat moored at the dock, where he came face-to-face with a teenager who looked so much like him that Callie actually blinked in shock. Unless time travel was involved and Tanner had come back as his fifteen-year-old self, she was looking at his son.
The two males spoke for a moment, the teen’s body language sullen and tense, Tanner’s calm, stoic, and unreadable. Then, still shirtless, his wetsuit low on his hips, Tanner hopped lithely onto the boat and shimmied his way up the mast, moving seemingly effortlessly on the strength of his arms and legs. He had something between his teeth, a rope, she saw, and damn if her heart didn’t sigh just a little bit at watching him climb with heart-stopping, badass grace.
“He’s certainly romance-hero-material,” her grandma said in her ear, nearly making Callie jump. She’d forgotten she was on the phone.
“Tall, dark, and a bit of attitude written on the outside,” her grandma went on, “but on the inside, he’s really just a big softie.”
Callie couldn’t help it, she laughed. From her view, there was nothing soft about Tanner Riggs.
Nothing.
Not his body, not his mind, and certainly not his heart. “I remember him,” she said softly. And what she remembered was getting her teenage heart crushed. “I need to go, Grandma.”
“You coming for lunch?” Lucille asked. “I want to introduce you to the guy I think I’m going to take on as my new boyfriend.”
Callie tore her gaze off Tanner and looked at her phone. “Wait— What? You haven’t mentioned this.”
“Yes, well, sometimes you can be a little prudish about these things.”
“I’m not prudish. And what do you mean, ‘taking on a boyfriend’?”
“Well, I’ll need your definition of boyfriend first,” her grandma said.
Callie stared at the phone. “Okay, we really need to have your hormone levels checked.”
Lucille laughed. “I didn’t tell you about the boyfriend because my sweetie and I like to keep things on the down-low. And plus, it was a test. A test to see if you’ve got skills to sniff out the dirt like I do. You failed, by the way.”
“You mean because I’m not a snoop?” Callie asked, trying not to picture her eighty-plus grandma having a “sweetie.” “And you do realize you have a reputation as the town’s unofficial media relations director, right?”
“Yep. Although I’m lobbying to make it official—as in a paid position.” She laughed when Callie snorted. “I swear, honey, it’s like you’re not even related to me. And anyway, how is it that you’re the one who taught me how to work a computer and what social media was, and yet you don’t utilize them to your favor?”
“You mean manipulate them?” Callie asked. “And I taught you all that because I thought you were getting elderly and bored and your mind would go to rot. I didn’t know you were going to terrorize people with it!”
Lucille laughed. “I’ve got a bunch of good years left before I’ll even consider getting elderly and bored. And no worries, my elevator still goes to the top floor. Come on over, honey. I’ve got to put the new registration sticker on the car; it just came in the mail. Nice that the state allows me to pay them for the car they won’t license me to drive, huh? To sweeten the deal, I’ve got dessert from Leah at the bakery. She makes the best stuff on the planet.”
Callie blew out a breath. “Okay, I’ll bring the main course, something from the diner.”
“I could make my famous fried chicken.”