This Thing Called Love Read Online Free PDF Page A

green, blue, and red glass shades. Trish had always had an exquisite sense of decor. For the thousandth time, an ache split her heart. She knew her dad must be thinking of them, too.
    “No coffee.” Olivia couldn’t keep the dismay out of her voice as she stood on tiptoe to view the top shelf of a corner cupboard. The thought of going back to the grocery store made her shudder. She found two small pottery plates and set them on the small island. Her father was already sitting, reading the paper.
    “Shouldn’t you be at work?” she asked as she plunged her hand into the bakery bag and took out a warm roll, tore a small piece off the end and popped it in her mouth. Heaven. She hadn’t eaten anything this decadent in ages.
    “Charlie’s watching the store. We don’t open till eight anyway.” Olivia couldn’t remember a weekday when her dad hadn’t shown up at Mirror Lake Hardware by seven. “Heard you had a little problem in Gertie’s yesterday.” Her dad’s eyebrows raised inquisitively over the top of the paper.
    “Who told you that?” Uh oh . If her dad knew, so did everybody else.
    “About ten or so people who came into the store yesterday afternoon.”
    Olivia groaned. “Annabelle just got a little fussy.” No sense in going into detail. The only time a person had a moment of privacy in this town was on the commode. And even that wasn’t guaranteed.
    “Heard Brad Rushford helped you out.”
    Just the mention of Brad’s name made her heart skitter. Stupid muscle memory. “He did,” she said in a tone she hoped sounded nonchalant. She left out the part about her hands being covered with baby poo and the fact that she’d lost her purse.
    Her dad looked at her good and hard over the top of his bifocals. “I know you’ll be running into him now and again—”
    “Dad, he lives next door .”
    Dead silence. “Well, like I said, you’ll see him occasionally, but that doesn’t mean—”
    Olivia stretched her arm across the island to cover her dad’s hand with hers. “Brad was a long time ago. We’ve both moved on.”
    Her father set the paper down, making it crinkle loudly. “He’s dated a lot of women and from what I’ve heard, he’ll be cherry-picking as long as there’s fruit in season.”
    “Dad!” He was always big into metaphors but . . . really. Still, her father was right. Brad had it all—brains, money, looks—and, apparently, the pick of the orchard.
    “Heard he’s doing some sort of bachelor cooking competition at his restaurant over the Memorial Day weekend and the women in town are all riled up about it. I don’t want you to be another notch on his bedpost.”
    “Okay, enough already.” Olivia felt her cheeks heat like she was fifteen years old.
    “I just don’t want to see you hurt again.” Brad had been a huge blip on her screen of life, and her father had seen the explosive attraction and the devastating end. No wonder he was wary.
    Brad had been everything to her—kind-hearted, hardworking, and sexy as sin, and she’d loved him with all her eighteen-year-old heart. Yet life had an uncanny way of playing “Gotcha!” She’d wanted that scholarship to NYU since she was twelve years old and learned what editors did to the books she’d treasured, but the day she got it, she’d cried tears of anguish.
    Something deep inside her knew that going to New York would be the end for them. How could it not? In many ways, Brad’s future was held prisoner by the needs of his family, and hers had no limits.
    Her father had spoken like Brad was still a threat. Olivia wanted to assure him he most definitely was not. “Last night he was just helping out.”
    Her dad shot her a skeptical look, but he remained silent. Then he slid back his stool, indicating the conversation had ended. “The baby’s all right?”
    Olivia nodded. “Eats a full bottle then crashes like a lumberjack.” Too bad the crash part only lasted a couple hours at a time.
    “And how about you?