Not tonight, Olivia.
Oliviaâs ex-husband shut her down so many times before the cheating bastard left her that Olivia lost count. She didnât realize sheâd also lost the ability to banter, interpret body language, or accept that a man could find her desirable. None of that should matter when she leaves for a two-week training for her new job with the Ranchers, an outdoorsy nonprofit, but when her co-worker adds âhalter topâ and âbikiniâ to the official pack list, she has no idea what to expect on this trip.
It certainly wasnât a perky blonde roommate who thinks their training is like spring break, but with a paycheck. It wasnât the after-hours hot tub. It absolutely wasnât the man with a rumble for a laugh who shows up on her flight and introduces himself as the colleague she didnât know would be her companion for the next two weeks.
When blondie calls dibs on that same colleague, Olivia just wants to stay out of her way, but her colleague has ideas of his own. Ideas which involve Olivia, the hot tub, and shared sips of bourbon.
Not tonight, Olivia.
Oliviaâs ex-husband shut her down so many times before the cheating bastard left her that Olivia lost count. She didnât realize sheâd also lost the ability to banter, interpret body language, or accept that a man could find her desirable. None of that should matter when she leaves for a two-week training for her new job with the Ranchers, an outdoorsy nonprofit, but when her co-worker adds âhalter topâ and âbikiniâ to the official pack list, she has no idea what to expect on this trip.
It certainly wasnât a perky blonde roommate who thinks their training is like spring break, but with a paycheck. It wasnât the after-hours hot tub. It absolutely wasnât the man with a rumble for a laugh who shows up on her flight and introduces himself as the colleague she didnât know would be her companion for the next two weeks.
When blondie calls dibs on that same colleague, Olivia just wants to stay out of her way, but her colleague has ideas of his own. Ideas which involve Olivia, the hot tub, and shared sips of bourbon.
She stabbed a sausage with a pitchfork, done in miniature, and popped it in her mouth. It burst on her tongue, salt and fat exploding. The flavor wasnât as satisfying as the act of impaling it had been, which said more about her state of mind than the quality of the food at this soiree. Sheâd grazed past at least three different buffet tables laden with cold canapes and chafing dishes before settling on that particular sausage, knowing she needed to eat something, anything, since the glass in her hand held more rum than coke. She wasnât driving, thanks to Melinda, but this was a work function. It wouldnât do to be tipsy.Â
Her boss appeared to be tipsy enough for them both.
That wasnât fair. She might not have been tipsy, but with Jamie, it was hard to tell the difference. She had her arm draped over the shoulder of a Greek god in a suit, judging by the size of the manâs shoulders. His back to Olivia, she could see Jamie was nearly nose to nose with the man. Only Jamie would be tall enoughâor brazen enoughâto pull that off. Her boss was pushing six foot on a regular sensible flats day, but sheâd donned stilettos tonight. Downright Amazonian, that woman. She couldnât hear what Jamie was saying, just that she was standing entirely too close to what she could only assume was a potential âsupporter,â and guessed that Jamie knew that the suit had very deep pockets.Â
Her face was only a breath mint apart from his, but whether that was due to Jamieâs lack of personal boundaries or the near-empty martini glass in the hand that wasnât over his shoulder was anyoneâs guess. Normally, a desk separated her from Jamieâs effusiveness, during weekly check-ins and cluster meetings, but on the few occasions when the two of them had gone to grab coffee, her boss had demonstrated an overfamiliarity that initially stunned her, slipping into âgirlfriendsâ mode the moment theyâd left the office.Â
âIn this job,â Jamie had told her between sips of americano, âwe have no time for a real life. We just donât.â Such was her bossâs apparent justification for throwing professionalism out the window. She hadnât realized during her interview process just exactly what her boss had been screening her for: teammate, underling, and apparently, bestie.Â
Forcing her eyes away from the scene that only she was noticing, she snagged a shrimp by the tail, lifting it from a tray of ice. She didnât notice the silver bowl of cocktail sauce until sheâd already taken a bite and by then it was too late. No double dipping. She finished her shrimp, then cursed herself for failing to take a plate first, staring at the sad little tail that she just knew was going to leave her fingers smelling like a cheap seafood joint if she couldnât find a trash can quickly.
She downed her drink and started towards the side door, the one nearest the waitstaff entrance to the kitchen, hoping to find a place to ditch the shell, but didnât get more than three steps before an arm snared her elbow.Â
âOlivia, have you had a chance to meet Harold Lieberman yet? Heâs the Councilâs fundraising chair this year.â
Only the desperation in Melindaâs eyes told her that this was not an introduction but a cry for help. She glanced down at the sad shrimp remains in her hand, and quickly transferred the tail from her right to her left, pinching it between fingers that were also holding the now-empty tumbler before reaching out to take Liebermanâs fat hand, already extended to greet her.Â
âOlivia Markham, Southern Territory Executive,â she recited, glad she hadnât had so much rum that sheâd forgotten her title at the bottom of the glass.Â
âMiss Markham, the pleasure is mine,â Lieberman answered, not noticing Melindaâs half-step away from him, sidling herself firmly next to Olivia. Fair enough. Melinda had to do this sober. Olivia could take the bullet. She was lubricated. And still holding a shrimp tail.Â
She hated fundraisers.
It was part of the job. How big a part, she hadnât realized, idealizing her dream job as, well, the job of her dreams. The social awkwardness of it was only half of it. Mingling was hard enough. Begging for money from donors was worse. If it were up to Olivia, she would let the kids do this part for themselves. And they did. Most of the money the organization raised was at the unit level, from friends and loved ones of kids in the program. But to get at the deep pockets, you had to bring out the caviar and champagne. Or shrimp and rum, for Olivia.Â
Sheâd been Territory Exec for three months, and in those three months, this was the third major fundraising event sheâd suffered through, and yet summer was, according to Melinda, âthe off season.â Melinda would know, having survived two years with the Council herself, and taken Olivia under her wing on her very first day, whether by Jamieâs explicit instruction or just in relief and excitement to have another female around her age in her cluster, she couldnât say. Either way, Olivia was glad to take her cues from her veteran colleague, even if it meant letting Melinda pick out her ensemble for tonightâs event.
âYou canât wear those shoes, Olivia,â sheâd said without preamble. âGo back inside.âÂ
Olivia had glanced at her footwearâa pair of low black wedgesâand frowned at her DD for the night. âWhatâs wrong with them?âÂ
Melinda sighed, as if explaining something so patently obvious that she couldnât believe she had to spell it out to her fledgling coworker. âThey do nothing for your calves. And theyâre matte. Go back, higher heel, shiny. Peep toe if you got âem.âÂ
Olivia knew better to argue. She went back up the stairs
to her apartment, leaving Melinda leaning against her Toyota Tundra. Melinda gave a curt nod of approval when sheâd returned in heels that pinched her toes. They pinched her toes even worse after standing for two hours. Was Mere ever going to take the mic?Â
Lieberman looked at her expectantly, and Olivia realized sheâd tuned the old man out, thinking about her toes and the shrimp tail and the packing she had to do, and was just about to do the unthinkable and admit she hadnât been listening when Mere Franks ambled out of the crowd and stepped behind the podium. Olivia smiled, and gestured to the Council President behind Liebermanâs head, causing him to turn and take notice of Franks at the microphone. She hoped he hadnât noticed that sheâd gestured with a shrimp tail.
âGood evening,â Franks began, pausing to allow the crowd to quiet down and feet to shift so that everyone could see him in his respectable navy suit and striped red tie.Â
She never loved that man more than she did in that moment, not just because he was, as âbig bossesâ go, the funniest, most grandfatherly man sheâd ever met, and she hoped heâd eventually adopt her even if she was twenty-seven and both her parents were still alive, but also because she was able to slink away from Lieberman and his fat, sweaty hands, and find a trash can near the wall. She dropped the shrimp tail in the garbage and absently sniffed her fingers.Â
Shrimp.Â
How could something so delicious smell so bad on your skin? She crinkled her nose, chiding herself for intentionally sticking her fingers in her own face when she knew what to expect, and her inner critic was answered by a low rumble.Â
She gasped.
To her left, against the wall, was Deep Pockets. Her brain belatedly realized that rumble was a laugh. Deep Pockets was laughing at her. Not pointing and laughing. But still laughing. A little. He must have seen her face after getting a whiff of shrimp. And now he was looking at her, the corners of
his mouth turned up ever so slightly. Â
If she wasnât sure he qualified for Greek god status before, now that sheâd seen his face, she was certain. No wonder Jamie was standing so close. His cheekbones were obscene. His smile, slightly crooked, and yet somehow more dashing because of it. Maybe he didnât have deep pockets. He wouldnât need money for Jamie to want to stand close enough to smell his aftershave, straight from his pulse points.
Olivia didnât smile back. She couldnât. She might drown in his dark eyes if she stared at him for another moment. All she could do was tear her gaze away from this impossible creature and focus on Mere Franks, still talking, still thanking everyone.Â
But sheâd heard this speech before. Or one very much like it. Franksâ speeches hit the same bullet points every single time, and if pressed, Olivia could probably do it, note for note, should he ever need a stand in. No matter how hard she tried to focus, her rum-addled brain kept suggestingâno, ordering her to go back to basking in the gaze of Possibly Deep Pockets next to her. Traitor.Â
The logical part of her head assessed the situation, realized that being a good little underling was not in the cards tonight, and gave her permission to tune out Franks and focus on her to-do list instead. Her plane left at eleven a.m. She had to get to the airport two hours early, thank you TSA. Her shuttle was lined up, having declined Melindaâs offer to ferry her to LAX. Nobody deserved that. She had at least one more load of laundry to do tonight, figuring if she waited to do it in the morning, the complex laundry room might be overrun with early risers who kept normal schedules and wanted to get a jump start on their Sunday morning with a load of whites or delicates. She couldnât risk it. Her uniform and most of her underwear sat in a pile on her couch and when Franks stopped talking, sheâd beg Melinda to get her out of here and take her back to her apartment, pleading laundry.Â
Sheâd already packed what she could, using the
National-issued checklist, but Melinda had stolen it from her and added other items that the official one omitted. Bikini. Bootsâcowboy with heel, not hikingâthose were already on the list. Halter top. Olivia didnât even own a halter top, so she bought one, nor boots as specified, but the next day, Olivia found a pair on her desk. They were red, and ridiculous. And Melindaâs. There was a sticky note on them. âDonât scuff these, Bitch.â Such sweet friends.
But sheâd deferred to Melinda, because Melinda knew what she was getting into, and Olivia was still very much in the dark. She had no analog from her former life. There was no IPST in the legal field. All she knew was, all Council staff had to go through IPSTâIntensive Professional Seminar Trainingâwithin three months of employment. Olivia technically should have done it by now, but they only held IPSTâs once a month, always two weeks long, always in Austin, Texas, run by National. But Jamie hadnât signed Olivia up for the first one fast enough, and slots filled up. And last month, Oliviaâs territoryâs day camp overlapped with the second week of the IPST. So tomorrow, sheâd board a plane, fly to Texas, and sit through what promised, by the paperwork, to be the most boring two weeks of her life.Â
Or not, judging by Melindaâs annotated list.Â
Either way, she wasnât looking forward to it. Wasnât looking forward to the laundry or the flight or mass-produced hotel food for the next two weeks. At least it meant no fundraisers for a fortnight.
The crowd erupted in applause, and Olivia joined in, realizing that was her cue to snag Melinda and make their escape. She kept clapping, but hustled towards Melinda, who made a quick apology to Lieberman, and nodded to Olivia. She knew her friend had a plane to catch. Olivia flashed a bashful smile at Lieberman, who gave the young women a little wave as Olivia nearly dragged Melinda out the door.Â
She absolutely did not look back at Possible Deep Pockets. Thank God sheâd never have to see him again.
Dibs is a romance novel that will make you smile and swoon, possibly at the same time. The storyâs protagonist, Olivia, finds her love Adam during an unexpected time in her life. From the moment Olivia is introduced, you quickly get the sense that she is a strong, humorous and relatable young lady. She has a backstory that many people can relate to and I was surprised to discover all of the serious themes that were explored through her. She has a rough past when it comes to love and she eventually learns that it is okay to let her guard down for the right person. My favorite part of this novel are its characters; each one is fleshed out brilliantly and is given a unique and honest voice. Olivia and Adamâs romance is both sexy and lovely; I found myself getting sucked into Adamâs charm and cheering for Olivia as she navigated through their relationship. Sometimes in romance novels it feels like the charactersâ relationships are forced, however I feel Adam and Olivia are meant to be together. They work hard to get to know each other well because they know it will benefit them in the long run. They respect and understand each other. Their love for each other is special.
I like this book. Allison Martineâs writing is well done; she does a great job at developing well rounded characters. The plot is fun and although predictable at times, does keep you on the edge of your seat. The storyâs pacing is quick overall, although sometimes certain descriptions slow down the story quite a bit. Near the ending I felt the story was slowing down a little too much but not so much that it made me stop reading. All in all, it is easy to get through and I had a hard time putting it down. I did finish this book in one sitting and I can easily imagine most people reading this story within a day or two. I feel it is a great escape from everyday life and feel that many people will come to love this story and its characters. I suggest this book to anyone who wants an amusing and lovable read. This novel teaches you how to treat your partner the right way. It also teaches you that even if you get your heart broken, you should always take a chance on love.