18. Olivia

Olivia held up a button-up blouse and gasped. Each quadrant had a different material and pattern. Rhinestones were splattered over the entire piece, and fringe hung from the bottom. "Are you kidding me? Is this in style?"

Anna stopped shifting hangers of clothes in her closet long enough to look over her shoulder and laugh. "It's not, but a boutique in New Orleans was trying to make it happen last fall. Toss that one into the donation pile, will you?"

Picking up the next one, Olivia chuckled. It was a tight-fitting sequined tank top that only belonged in a dance club. She held it up in front of her chest. "Does this one say ‘I'm a crazy chicken lady?'"

"No, but this one does." Anna held out a fitted, pink flannel shirt with blue accents. "It'll look great. Try it on."

Olivia caught the top when Anna tossed it to her and laid it on the bed. "I can't believe you have so many clothes. How could you possibly wear all of this?"

"Sometimes, I wear more than one outfit in a day," Anna admitted, like it was the most normal thing in the world to go through so many expensive outfits.

Granted, her upbringing wasn't the same as Olivia's. Anna's parents were a power couple, heading up one of the state's biggest law firms. They'd won thousands of cases and had dozens of associate attorneys working alongside them.

Olivia? She was a farmer's daughter. While Anna spent her childhood in piano lessons and country club parties, Olivia woke up with the chickens and sold vegetables at the local farmer's market.

Their differences hadn't kept them apart. They'd both decided in third grade to be best friends for life, and neither had wavered on that promise.

At least, not yet. Guilt tightened its rope around her throat every time she let her feelings for Dawson bubble up to the surface.

With the flannel on, Olivia held out her arms and did a slow turn. "What do you think?"

"Perfect," Anna said as she reached for a camisole on a different hanging rack. "Wear this one under it, and pair it with your pink-and-brown boots."

Olivia pulled off the flannel and folded it into the neat pile she'd started. Her chicken-lover Instagram was a fun side project, and while she didn't make any money sharing cute and funny videos of her chickens to the world, Anna's second job title was influencer. She'd made a great living before becoming an attorney.

Olivia's Instagram wasn't about her. It was about the cute chickens and the laughs. She barely showed her face. Still, Anna enjoyed sharing the mountains of clothes the high-end boutiques sent her. She picked out the more casual ones for Olivia to wear in the small moments when she made an appearance in her videos with the chickens.

"What about the olive pants from a couple of weeks ago? Can I wear something else with those?"

Anna perked up. "Those were so comfortable."

"The softest pants I've ever worn. I want them in every color."

"They're two-hundred and fifty dollars a pop."

Olivia gasped. "Are you serious? And I wore them to dance with my chicks!"

Laughing, Anna pulled her phone out of her pocket. "Don't worry about it. They were excited when I asked if you could wear them to post on your page."

Olivia pressed a hand to her stomach as a weak cramp gripped her insides. "Okay. I think this is plenty."

Anna fell back onto her bed, sinking into the downy-white comforter. "Wait a minute. I have an idea, but I need to check to see if you've already worn an outfit like it."

"You remember every outfit," Olivia pointed out.

"Yeah, but I think I remember…" Anna sat up, still staring at her phone. "What's this?"

Olivia peeked over Anna's shoulder to see the Instagram collaboration she'd done with Dawson earlier in the week. He'd lined up her hens on Henry's back, then coaxed the chickens to jump off the goat's head into his arms.

It was ridiculous, but the reel had gotten over seven hundred thousand views. Dawson turned the women of the internet into mush, and everything he touched turned to gold.

"Dawson's idea," Olivia said.

Continuing to stare at the screen with longing, Anna whispered, "I wish he'd look at me with that smile. I mean, look at him. He's got those birds free falling into his arms. And those aren't the only chicks who would jump off a cliff for him."

Olivia snorted. "Don't go jumping off any cliffs. There isn't a man in the world worth that risk."

"Look at those arms. Solid muscle," Anna said, turning her phone around so Olivia could see the muscles in question.

Shielding her eyes, Olivia turned back to the clothes she'd picked out. "I try not to ogle my friends."

Anna sat up on the bed, sending her blonde hair flying around her. "You can't tell me he's not hotter than a blue flame. The man is masculine perfection. He's tall, dark, and handsome, but his personality is light and funny. How am I supposed to resist that combination?"

Olivia pressed her hands to her flaming cheeks. Yes, she noticed all of those things about Dawson, but she spent most of her time trying to stomp her attraction back into the dirt.

Anna, on the other hand, wanted to talk about her feelings for Dawson on a continual loop, which didn't help Olivia hide hers at all.

Olivia hadn't breathed a word about her close encounter with Dawson a few hours ago. His promise to come by her house later to "talk" held the weight of a deceitful lie as it sat in the back of her throat.

She'd stopped him from confessing some kind of feelings earlier. If he let a true confession see the light of day, she wouldn't be able to lie and say she didn't feel the same.

The impending "talk" waiting for her in just a few hours was twisting her insides like a vise.

"What am I gonna do!" Anna howled.

Betsy jerked up from her little bed in the corner of Anna's room and yipped.

Recoiling, Anna lowered her voice. "Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you." She turned to Olivia with her shoulders sagging. "She doesn't like me."

"It's not that she doesn't like you," Olivia said, reaching for Betsy. "People haven't always been good to her. It took a while before she warmed up to Dawson too."

Anna scoffed. "I don't believe a word of that. Dawson could charm the bark off a tree." She rubbed her hands over her arms like the chill in Betsy's bark had permeated the room. "I've never had a dog. Mom and Dad hate pets. Maybe that's another reason I should get my own place."

Olivia gritted her teeth. Anna's Mom had intense separation anxiety. She'd suffered from panic attacks when Derek went to college, but Anna's brother hadn't let that stop him.

Anna, on the other hand, sympathized with her mom a little too much. So much so that she was still living at home in her twenties. She stayed the night at Olivia's a few times a month, but so far she hadn't made any moves to venture out.

Olivia bent at the waist as another pain seized her middle. She forced measured breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth as the stabbing lingered.

"You okay?" Anna said, scooting closer to Olivia on the bed.

Betsy trotted over to Olivia's feet and whimpered. After all the little dog had been through, it was a curse that she was so perceptive to her pain.

Olivia reached for Betsy, who nuzzled her face into the hollow of Olivia's neck as soon as she was close enough.

"Liv, are you okay? Do you need me to get you some medicine?"

"No. It's not as bad as yesterday. This is the tail end of it." She sat on the bed and fell back, letting the tension go as she closed her eyes.

"Just one more week, and this might be over," Anna whispered.

Olivia laughed. "It's never over. The surgery helps, but it'll come right back. The only way to get rid of it is to get rid of half of my reproductive system."

Anna froze, knowing the heartache that came with that thought. Sure, Olivia had said the words like they didn't land like a round-house kick to the face, but it tore her up to consider the hysterectomy. She was young. She should be having babies, not heading into her golden years.

She squeezed Betsy, but Anna scooted across the bed and tucked herself against Olivia's side. With an arm around both Olivia and Betsy, Anna whispered, "I'm always here for you. I wish I could make this go away without taking something so precious from you."

Olivia inhaled a deep breath and squeezed her eyes closed. "I know," she whispered. "But this is just the way it is for me. I'm not doing a very good job accepting it."

"It's not a lost cause. Don't give up hope."

Olivia rested her cheek against Anna's head. "I know. Don't stop praying," she begged.

"Every day, my friend," Anna said.

Olivia lifted Betsy from her chest. "I need to get home. Thanks for all the clothes."

"You're welcome to them anytime. My closet is your closet," Anna said, sitting up and stretching her arms.

They said their goodbyes, and Betsy behaved, even giving Anna a few licks on her jaw. The ride home had Olivia's nerves flaring up again. What did Dawson want to talk about? She thought she knew, but what was he really going to say? Was it really a love confession like she thought?

When she got home, she went straight to the bedroom and changed into the most comfortable and unflattering sleep pants and T-shirt she owned before taking her makeup off and tying her hair into a ponytail.

If Dawson had some big revelation of feelings to share, he needed to know exactly what he was getting into–flaws and all.

She started a load of laundry and sat on the couch with a book. She wasn't a big reader, but she liked to dip into a wholesome romance every once in a while.

The knock on the door startled her, and Betsy jumped out of her lap. It hadn't taken long for Olivia to get engrossed in the book. She hadn't even heard Dawson's truck.

"Coming!" She opened the door to find Dawson propping one arm against the frame, wearing a playful grin.

Oh no. That handsome grin that lifted one side of his mouth more than the other was her kryptonite. There wasn't a chance in northern Wyoming she'd be able to withstand anything he said.

"Let's go," he said with a quirk of his brow.

Okay, there were limits to his charm. Olivia rested her hands on her pajama-clad hips and lifted her chin. "I'm not going anywhere."

Dawson just chuckled. She had to admit, he made the spontaneous life look appealing.

"Why don't we put the serious talk on hold and do something together instead?"

She was all in favor of putting the "Define-the-relationship" talk on hold, but at what cost? They'd have to address the elephant in the room at some point.

But running off into the night with Dawson was too tempting to resist. They could just be themselves for a little longer.

Olivia propped her shoulder against the other side of the door frame. "Where?"

"It's a secret," Dawson whispered.

Great. Any adventure she agreed to this afternoon would require full trust in him.

"Is this a secret that will require any energy? Because I'm not planning on doing anything for the rest of the day."

Dawson let his head fall back and sighed. "I'll do all the heavy lifting. I'll even carry you if you don't want to walk."

"So I will have to burn more calories today. This doesn't sound like fun."

Dawson pointed to the driveway, nearly laughing at her attempt to put him off. "Stop being stubborn and get in the truck."

Olivia straightened her backbone, rising to his bait like a starving fish. "Did you just boss me?"

Dawson took a step toward her, and her entire body heated like a torch. His jaw tensed as his eyes danced in the shadows of the afternoon sun sinking behind her house. "Stop it. You like it when I surprise you," he whispered, barely hiding his grin.

Okay, so she did like it when he made her break out of her shell, and she could usually admit to having fun once she got past the initial decision. "Fair enough."

Dawson's arms wrapped around her, lifting her off her feet and swinging her in a circle before she'd even finished the last word.

Laughing, she squealed, "Dawson!" as he set her back on her feet.

Once she had her balance again, she pointed a finger at him. "But I'm bringing a book."

Dawson grabbed her hand, pulling her with him into the house. "No need. I promise to keep you entertained."

"Why are you dragging me inside if we're going somewhere?"

Dawson stopped in front of her bedroom door and propped his hands on his hips. "Your chariot awaits, my queen." He gestured to her room. "Pack a bag. Three days, max."

Olivia's eyes widened. "Nu-uh. I have to work on Tuesday."

Dawson tilted his head from side to side. "Compromise. Make it two."

With a controlled inhale, Olivia nodded. "Fine. Two days. But I better have my own bed."

Dawson shook his head. "No beds, but you won't have to sleep with me." He pointed toward the kitchen. "I'll pack snacks. Your chariot leaves in fifteen minutes."

Staring after him, Olivia pressed a hand to her chest to settle the war drum beating inside it. What had she just agreed to?