Bad Boys Do (Donovan Brothers Brewery 2)

“You’re welcome.” Olivia spun to walk away, but Gwen snagged her shirt.

“What do you mean he’s interested?”

“I told him about you and he’s going to call to ask you out.”

“Sight unseen?” she scoffed.

“Kind of. I told him you had a smokin’ bod.”

Gwen gasped. “You did not!”

“I did, too.”

“I haven’t done a sit-up in weeks!”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “I was talking about your boobs and you know it. Your taut abs didn’t enter into the equation.”

“Olivia…” she started, puffing up in outrage, but a smile escaped her control. Then a laugh. “Oh, all right. I suppose…. Do you think he’ll call?”

“Definitely. I told him you thought his picture was cute and he blushed.”

Her eyebrows flew up. “He blushed? Really? That’s kind of adorable.”

“You should see it in person.”

“Maybe I will.”

Olivia left Gwen staring down at the card. It felt good to spread the joy around. And if Gwen started getting lucky they could go out and gloat together. That would be way more fun than a book club.

She floated through three hours of work in her office, using most of her time to begin a plan. By lunch she hadn’t actually built anything yet, but she’d assembled some pieces, she’d made some lists. She was just opening her online bank statement for the fourth time when the phone rang. She reached for it, her eyes touching on the numbers on the computer screen, hoping they’d ticked up since the last time she’d looked. She hadn’t been vicious enough with Victor over the settlement. She hadn’t wanted the fight.

“Olivia Bishop,” she said into the phone.

“Olivia,” her mother said. She always sounded vaguely disapproving. Always. Olivia had learned not to take it personally.

“Hello, Mom.”

“I was just calling to tell you that your father and I are off to Vancouver for two weeks. We’re leaving tomorrow evening.”

“Oh, I’m glad you called. I’d totally forgotten. Have a great time.”

“We will. Or at least your father will. You know how much he loves being on the water.” Her voice suggested that there was something indefinably distasteful about that. Olivia had gotten through her teenage years by pretending her mom had a speech impediment that made her sound critical no matter the place or situation.

“Well,” she said brightly, hoping to cut her mom off. “Call me when you—”

“What are you up to this summer? Dating anyone?”

Good Lord. Not this again. “Mom—”

“It’s time to get back in the game, darling. Nobody likes a quitter.”

“Thanks,” she muttered. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I’m not trying to be cruel, but you’re thirty-five. You don’t have the luxury of nursing your wounds for years. You—”

“Mom, I’m a little busy for dating.”

“Doing what? Working? You university people don’t work nearly as hard as your father and I did, and we always had time to socialize.”