“Don’t worry about it. Why don’t I run and drop the shirt off for you? This way, you can go over the files one last time and wait for Carol to get back.” Once Carol started chatting with someone, it was a good bet she’d be gone for a while. And Carol always found someone to chat with.

  “You really wouldn’t mind?”

  Garrett looked to Olivia, his gaze searching her face for . . . something. He must have found the answer he was looking for, because he nodded and turned back to his desk. “Thank you so much, Olivia. I really appreciate this. Don’t worry about coming back. I’m going to get out of here as soon as I check through these once more.”

  “You sure?” Though she was looking forward to the holiday and the four-day weekend, she never minded hanging out with Garrett a little longer.

  “Positive. Have a happy Thanksgiving.” He leaned toward her almost imperceptibly.

  She inhaled deeply. His musky aftershave invaded her senses. She wanted to breathe in again, but the breath she’d already taken had frozen in her lungs. Maybe it was her body’s way of holding on to the lingering scent. She pressed a hand to her chest in an effort to keep her heart from jumping out.

  “You okay?”

  She jumped, startled. “Uhhh . . .”

  His eyebrows drew together in a quizzical look, and he held the plastic bag out toward her.

  “Sorry, I was just trying to remember what else I have to do on my way home.” She forced a smile and turned away from him.

  “No problem, I know just how you feel.”

  Somehow, I really doubt that.

  She shoved the plastic bag with Garrett’s shirt into her bag and hefted it over her shoulder. “Enjoy your Thanksgiving, Garrett.”

  She turned and walked out the door into the reception area. She’d almost passed Jill’s desk completely before she hesitated. “Good night, Jill.”

  Jill looked up and simply nodded.

  “Have a happy Thanksgiving.” She took two steps before she paused again, glanced over her shoulder, and met Jill’s confused gaze. “I can’t believe it’s Thanksgiving already. Who’d have thought I’d be here that long?”

  Jill’s face flushed red, though whether it was from embarrassment or anger, Olivia couldn’t tell.

  “OH NO!” OLIVIA SHOT out of bed, caught her foot in a blanket, and went down in a tangled heap on the floor. “This can’t be happening.” Wrestling the blanket from around her foot, she pulled up on the nightstand, grabbed the alarm clock in both hands, and prayed fervently for the numbers to turn backward. Three in the morning. “What am I going to do?”

  Barney cocked his head from where he lay on his bed in the corner.

  Okay. Take a deep breath. Whining is not going to solve this.

  She slammed the clock down and stumbled to the living room. Where did I put it? She’d stopped at Starbucks on the way home, run into an old friend, and ended up hanging out for a while. She had planned to do a quick stop at home to let Barney out and then head back to Garrett’s dry cleaners.

  She would have remembered, too, if she hadn’t gotten caught up with that stupid New Year’s Eve party. Trying to put together something that elaborate on such short notice had proved to be nearly impossible. For her anyway. That’s why she’d called George at Cresthollow Country Club. George would take care of everything. It was the least he could do after stealing her fiancé. At least that’s what she told him.

  She almost smiled at his response before reality intruded. Relieved the party was in good hands, she’d finally relaxed, and before she knew it, her eyes were closing during a rerun of Friends and she’d fallen asleep.

  Ugh . . . why am I always so scatterbrained? It’s not like I don’t try to be responsible.

  She returned to her search. I had my bag when I came in. At least, I’m pretty sure I did. Could I have left it in the car? She moved around the couch and her foot caught on a familiar leather handle. Oh, thank you. She ripped the bag from beneath the coffee table, shoved her hand into it, and pulled out the plastic bag containing Garrett’s shirt.

  A pang of guilt assailed her insides, turning her stomach. “Okay. It’s not as bad as it seems. I’m sure he probably has other shirts. Right?” She waited patiently for Barney to answer while she wracked her brain for a solution. “A lot of help you are, mister.”

  Then a thought struck her. There had to be an all-night cleaners. There was an all-night everything. She flopped onto the couch, propped her feet on the table, and yanked her computer onto her lap. A quick search told her there were none. “Ugh . . .” Frustration beat at her and she pressed her fists to her eyes, imagining Garrett running to the dry cleaner’s in the morning and being met with a blank stare when he asked for his shirt. Garrett had trusted her to do this and she’d screwed it up. Why did she always mess everything up? It wasn’t like she didn’t try to do things right. She did. A weight on her leg had her lifting her gaze and staring into Barney’s soulful eyes. She heaved in a deep breath before letting it out in a sigh and reaching to pet Barney’s head. A tear dripped down her cheek. She quickly brushed it away and pushed up from the couch.

  “Come on, boy. Let’s see if we can fix this.” She grabbed the shirt from where she’d tossed it onto the couch, quickly glanced at the tag, and headed for the kitchen. “Okay, it says dry-clean only.” Barney’s nails clicked against the hardwood as he trailed after her. “But they probably just put that because it’s the best way to clean it. It’s not like it’s the only way to clean it. I mean, you go out in the rain and your shirt gets wet. Nothing happens to it, right?”

  Barney sat beside his bowl, looking hopeful.

  “Not now. You’ll eat later.”

  He whined.

  She lowered the shirt to stare at him. “Can’t you see I’m having a crisis here?”

  He held her stare for an instant, snorted, then dropped down onto the floor and rested his head on his paws. She shrugged and figured past experience had told him this could take a while.

  She pulled open the door to the small laundry room and paused for a split second, briefly contemplating washing the shirt by hand. Ignoring her concerns, she lifted the cover of the washing machine and tossed in the shirt. When it was done, she’d hang it to dry and then iron it. He’d never know the difference. She’d just call him in a few hours and offer to drop the shirt off, instead of letting him pick it up at the cleaners. She set the cycle for delicate and turned to Barney. “All right, boy. We’re not going for a walk at four in the morning, so you may as well go back to sleep.”

  Barney popped up and wagged his tail.

  “Come on, let’s go sit down and wait for this to finish. It shouldn’t take long.” It’ll be fine.

  She glanced at the coffeepot, which wouldn’t start automatically for another two hours, hit the on switch, and went to sit on the couch while it brewed. After a few minutes searching for the remote, she finally found it buried between two cushions and flipped on the TV. An old sitcom was on. She pulled the afghan from the back of the couch and curled into the corner of the couch to wait. Maybe she would just close her eyes for a minute . . .

  Olivia yawned and rolled over. Something cold and wet nudged her cheek. She opened one eye and then squinted it shut against the sunlight streaming through the sheer curtains. “Ugh . . .”

  Barney nudged her face again.

  “What? Can’t you see I’m sleeping?”

  A noise from the other room caught her attention, niggled at the back of her mind, then jarred her awake. I can’t even believe this. She glanced at the time on the cable box, tossed the afghan aside, and ran for the washing machine. With no idea what time Garrett would head out to the cleaners, she tossed the shirt into the dryer, turned it on high, and headed for the bathroom. She would take a quick shower and get ready. By then the shirt should be dry and she’d be able to head him off, if she ran.

  Okay, I have this under control. Without even waiting for the water to get warm, she jumped in, soaped up, rinsed off, and jumped out. She tugged a brush through the tangles in her hair, and after a little blush, mascara, and eyeliner, she was ready to leave. She dumped some food into Barney’s bowl and grabbed the leash. One uneventful five-minute walk later and she was ready to run out. Yes! She poured a lukewarm cup of coffee, took a sip, threw her bag over her shoulder, grabbed the shirt from the dryer, and . . . froze.

  “Oh no. No no no. Please tell me this isn’t happening.” Barney yelped and tilted his head. She lifted the shirt to eye level, turned it, and squinted to bring it into better focus. Nope. There was no way to deny it. The shirt was a mess. It had shriveled up into a wrinkled ball about three sizes smaller than it had been when she started. Now what? She huffed out a breath and threw the offending piece of clothing onto the dryer. Great. She pressed her fists to her eyes.

  Without looking back, she grabbed her keys and the ruined shirt, and stormed out the door. There has to be a way to fix this. Think, Liv, think. She ran to the corner and lifted her hand for a cab.

  “Where to, miss?” The driver started the meter and pulled out into traffic without even glancing at her in the rearview mirror.

  She rattled off the address she’d seen a million times in Garrett’s e-mails and hoped it was his home. Pulling out her phone, she did a search for nearby stores that might be open Thanksgiving morning. She scrolled through store after store, checking the holiday hours and dismissing one after another as closed, before finally finding one that was open. Davenport’s. She called the number, just to be sure, and a recorded voice told her they’d open at nine. Unfortunately, the cleaners opened at eight. If Garrett left to pick up the shirt before she could intercept him—she shuddered.

  SIX

  GARRETT PAUSED AS A knock sounded at the front door. That’s strange. Who could that be? “Go ahead and turn on the channel for the parade. I’ll be right in.”

  Gracie scampered off into the living room and Garrett opened the door.

  “Happy Thanksgiving.” Olivia gave a small wave.

  “Olivia? Hi. Happy Thanksgiving.”

  She stood on the stoop, wringing her hands.

  “What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

  “I . . . um . . . uh . . .”

  “Come on in.” He stepped back and placed a hand on her lower back as he ushered her through the door.

  “Livvie.” Gracie ran into the foyer and threw her arms around Olivia’s legs.

  Olivia smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes this time as it usually did while playing with Gracie. “Happy Thanksgiving, Gracie.”

  “Happy Thanksgiving. Are you staying for dinner?”

  “Okay, okay, that’s enough.” Garrett disentangled his daughter from his assistant and set her back. He laughed. “Let her walk, Gracie.”

  Gracie took Olivia’s hand and guided her into the kitchen.

  “Mmmm . . . it smells so good in here.”

  Garrett tried to guide Gracie toward the living room. “Why don’t you go see if the parade’s started yet, Gracie?”

  Gracie ducked away from his grip, hopped up onto a stool at the breakfast bar, and began to swivel back and forth. “It doesn’t start for another hour.”

  “Well . . .” He paused, unsure what errand he could send her on while not wanting to hurt her feelings by chasing her away.

  “It’s okay, Garrett. I um . . . I just needed to tell you something.” Olivia looked at her hands.

  The thought that she might quit flickered through his mind, and he was surprised to realize how much the idea upset him. He held his breath and waited.

  “I forgot to drop your shirt off at the cleaners.” She winced. “And then I tried to wash it, and it got ruined.” She held up the crumpled wad of material as evidence, looking at him with huge, mournful eyes. “I’m so sorry. I found a store open. I figured if you come with me, I’ll buy you a new shirt. I know you were planning to wear it today.” She stopped, seeming deflated, still holding the shirt out. “I feel so bad. I’m sorry.”

  Garrett stared at her. He studied her as she bit furiously on her bottom lip.

  Gracie laughed. It started as a small chuckle, as if she were unsure of what the crisis was, but then escalated into a full-on belly laugh. Garrett couldn’t help it. Relief poured through him, and a laugh erupted out of nowhere before he could stifle it. Gracie clutched her stomach. Garrett laughed harder. Olivia lifted her eyes and gaped at the two of them as if they were crazy.

  “Olivia.” He gasped, struggling valiantly to get himself under control. “I’m sorry.” He held his palms up toward her and heaved in a deep breath.

  Gracie had control for a brief moment but then burst into another fit of giggles.

  “Olivia, I have other shirts. It’s okay. I liked that one and wanted to wear it today, but it’s really not that big a deal.” He tried to ignore the intense range of feelings the thought of her quitting had provoked, shoving them stubbornly aside to examine at some other time. Or, more likely, not at all.

  “It seemed like a big deal to you yesterday.” Her eyebrows plunged into a scowl.

  “I apologize. Everything was a big deal to me yesterday. I was having a hard time getting through the files, and I had . . . a lot on my mind.” He didn’t want to get into particulars: he’d misplaced an important file, had an argument with a client, and was under pressure from the Harrises for answers to every ridiculous question they dreamed up five minutes before they thought of it. The last thing he needed today was to relive that kind of stress.

  A small smile played at the corners of her mouth, ruining the effect of the scowl she held firmly in place. “You mean I got up at three in the morning to try and do something with that shirt so you wouldn’t have to go to Thanksgiving dinner half naked, and it doesn’t even matter?”

  He grinned and shrugged, gracefully changing the subject. “So . . . what are your plans for today?”

  She held his gaze a moment longer, but then let it go with a laugh. “Well, I was planning to take you to Davenport’s to replace your shirt. It’s only a block over from the Macy’s Parade route, and I thought Gracie might like to come with us and watch the parade.”

  A squeal pierced Garrett’s brain. “Oh, can we Daddy? Can we? Please?” Gracie jumped from the stool and flung herself into his arms. She kept her arms tightly around his neck as she turned to look over her shoulder at Olivia. “I watch the parade on TV every year, but I’ve never seen it in real life.” Gracie turned her attention back to Garrett. She looked him squarely in the eyes. “You know what, Dad?”

  He sighed, already knowing he was going to give in. “What, Gracie?”

  “If you ruin something of someone’s, you really should fix it or get them a new one.”

  “Oh, you should, should you? And who told you that?” He looked over Gracie’s shoulder at Olivia and winked.

  She peered at him from beneath her lashes and smiled back, and his gut clenched. He forced his attention back to Gracie.

  “Miss Carmichael said so. When Jenny broke John’s project on purpose, she said Jenny really should fix it or make him a new one. She said that’s good character.” She nodded for emphasis, her expression serious.

  Garrett hugged her tight, holding her close for an extra few seconds, inhaling the scent of baby shampoo and contemplating the fact his daughter was growing up so fast. She squirmed out of his arms too soon, and he reluctantly released her.

  “Well, I guess we wouldn’t want to do anything to hurt Olivia’s good character, would we?”

  Gracie clasped her hands together beneath her chin, her eyes wide with hope, as she shook her head and waited.

  “Go get your coat.”

  “Yay!” She ran from the room.

  Garrett glanced at his watch. “Will we be able to make it in time?”

  Olivia laughed, her eyes now filled with the delight he’d come to enjoy when she played with his daughter. “We will if we go to the end of the parade route and don’t stop at Davenport’s until after. Have you been to the parade before?”

  “Um . . . no. We moved here after Thanksgiving last year, and before that I’d never been to New York.” He pulled out a stool and gestured for her to sit, then moved to sit across the table from her.

  “How did you end up in New York?”

  A painful memory tugged at him, but he ignored it. Stephanie was no longer important enough in his life to hurt him, but that didn’t change the fact that her betrayal had hurt. He blew out a breath. “I was the head of a large investment firm in Florida. There were some . . . problems with one of our employees stealing. By the time we figured out what was going on, a lot of money had been embezzled. The members of the board decided I should have been more on top of things, and they let me go.” He shrugged. “I moved around for a couple of years, but it was hard to find decent work and still take care of Gracie, especially before she started school. Then, last year, I met Mr. Harris at a party. We talked for a while, and he offered me a position at Harris and Harris. So, here I am.”

  “Florida, huh?” Olivia smiled.

  “Yup.”

  “So . . . that’s where you got that southern accent.” She grinned.

  He couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Ready, guys.” Gracie tore back into the room.

  Garrett checked the turkey, glanced at the clock, and went to grab his jacket. “Okay. Let’s go. I can leave the turkey cooking, but I have to get back in time to make the rest of the dinner.” Olivia took Gracie’s hand, and they followed him out as he locked the front door. “What are you doing for dinner, Olivia?”

  She shrugged. “My parents had a political event to attend, and I’m supposed to meet them for dinner there, but I was thinking of skipping out on it.”

  Garrett sensed her unease but didn’t press it. “Well, you’re welcome to come for dinner if you don’t mind my parents, five siblings, and all of their children.”

 

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