This Thing Called Love Read Online Free PDF

Caring for an infant on your own is exhausting.” He stood and neatly folded the paper, left it in a tidy pile.
    Olivia, lacking a napkin, ran the back of her hand over her mouth and licked at a cinnamon gob on her lower lip. It was impossible to be neat with anything from Mona’s. She sighed. “I don’t know, Dad. My boss gave me two weeks’ leave to figure it out. I’ve always dreamed of being a mother someday, but not like this.”
    Her father patted her forearm. “Life sometimes throws us curveballs. But you have to stay in the box and swing away.”
    He’d been doing that—gently patting, prodding, and delivering platitudes—since the day her mother left when she was nine years old. Raised two girls all on his own. How had he done it, when taking care of one tiny baby felt like scaling Everest without an oxygen tank?
    Words pushed against her throat, demanding exit, but she choked them down. Why me? She wanted to know. Why did Trish pick me? But her father was doing his usual comforting in the face of his own grief—how could she demand more?
    Honestly, Olivia feared her father’s answer. It might be something funny, like beats the hell out of me , or something practical, like, don’t know but you’ll have to make the best of it , but she was certain it wouldn’t be because you’re the natural choice.
    She knew she wasn’t. She’d always thought of having babies as some pleasant, distant event, way way in the future . . . not today, catching her off guard with her breeches at her knees.
    Olivia would never do what her mother had done—make promises she couldn’t keep. Promise this baby a life and then leave her. No, Olivia would do what she always did—assess the situation, examine her options, and do what was best for Annabelle. She owed that much to Trish.
    Sensing her confusion, her dad continued his pep talk. “I raised you to be resourceful and figure out how to help yourself, and by God, you have.”
    Yes, she had, that’s what she’d done, but far away from here. Guilt pummeled her. Truth was, she’d always felt a ferocious need to flee, to make a success out of her life far away from Mirror Lake. She didn’t want to remember the failures—not being good enough that her own mother would stay and care for her. And not good enough for Brad.
    Her father smiled. He’d always just loved her. Period. “I’m glad you’re here, Livvy, and I know you’ll figure out how to make this work. Just a shame it took something like this to bring you back.”
    She gave her father a sideways hug as she walked him to the door. “Don’t forget,” she said, “dinner tomorrow at six. We’ll order out.”
    Olivia opened the door. She was surprised to find Brad standing on the other side, dressed in immaculate gray slacks, a pressed blue shirt, and Ray-Bans, looking like a tanned Italian billionaire and holding a cardboard drink carrier with two steaming coffees. The strong, rich aroma lit up all the caffeine-deprived centers of her brain. He handed her one and, without missing a beat, offered the other to her father. “Morning, Mr. Marks.”
    Olivia’s father mumbled a non-enthusiastic “Morning, Bradley,” and declined the coffee by holding up his hand.
    “Does everyone around here rise before the chickens?” Olivia asked, making a feeble attempt to comb through her bed head with her fingers. She feigned indifference as Brad swung his shaded gaze slowly over her, but it was like the room temperature had just shot up twenty degrees. Like he’d drilled right through her rumpled exterior and was seeing her stark, buck naked—and liking it.
    Heat blazed low and deep in her abdomen. Visuals of his strong, capable hands roving all over her body rolled unwanted through her brain. She was addicted to his particular type of pheromone crack, helpless in the face of it, regardless of how much she disliked other parts of him.
    If only she was wearing makeup and a suit with heels, something dignified and