Oliver - Greenville Alien Mail Order Brides: Intergalactic Dating Agency

by V. Vaughn

  Oliver’s gaze is cold as he says, “Understood.” He glances at my desk piled high with invoices and other paperwork that I’ve been too busy and too stressed to deal with. I can feel the judgment oozing out of his pores, but he doesn’t say anything about it. Instead he asks, “Would you like me to get lost until Jake comes to get me?”

  I look at the bag of his things he stored in here earlier that’s sitting in the corner. The Intergalactic Dating Agency logo is on it, and I recall how excited I was when I picked Oliver. It occurs to me the guy came here for me, with the intention of getting married, and he was probably excited too... until he met the bitch version of me. So far all I’ve done is bark at him. I rake my hands through my hair and go over to plop down in my chair as I take deep breaths to calm down. “I’m sorry. Do you want to leave?”

  He smiles. “Not yet,” he says. “I know dealing with me right now is the last thing you have time for. I promise I won’t be much trouble.”

  How can he be so nice when I’m being such a jerk? Hang on. He doesn’t exactly have a choice but to be nice since he was just dropped on my doorstep. He probably thinks he’s got the upper hand because he’s being so calm. I throw back the same kind of cordial reply. “You’re being kind. I shouldn’t be taking my frustration out on you.”

  “It’s not a problem.” He walks over to his bag and hoists it on his shoulder. “Why don’t you give me directions to your home, and I’ll go wait for your friend.”

  I sigh. I don’t have to be a total bitch. The least I could do is bring him back to my apartment to get settled in. “No. I have a feeling the shop will be slow this morning. So let me show you to your new home, and then we’ll go out to breakfast.”

  “Are you sure?” Oliver’s stomach growls and betrays him.

  I let out a dry chuckle and remember I didn’t eat breakfast either. Considering the amount of coffee I’ve had, I really need something to sop up the caffeine. “You have to be starving. C’mon.” I lead him out the door toward the back. “I’m told watching an Eroscian taste our food for the first time is an experience I don’t want to miss.”

  My apartment is a few blocks away, and as we weave our way through the crowded sidewalks I ask, “When did you arrive on Earth?”

  “Not very long before Mrs. Stevens dropped me off.”

  He frowns, and I think he’s remembering the way she fled so quickly. I say, “I suspect handing you off to a drug dealer made her uncomfortable.”

  He chuckles. “Maybe. We have coffee on Eroscia, though. Ms. Stone made a big show of giving it to us as a gift.” I let out a noise of disgust as he continues. “It became quite popular to drink every morning since our planet is fascinated with all things related to your culture. It seems strange that suddenly so many of us are affected adversely by caffeine.” His tone makes me believe he’s given this serious thought.

  When we get to a cross walk, a girl giggles on her phone as we stop and wait with the crowd for the light to change. A couple of women turn to stare at Oliver, and he grabs my hand. I smile, wondering if he’s afraid of them or trying to assure me he has no interest in anyone else. “I agree that the addiction problem seems sudden,” I say. “When the beta testing of Intergalactic Dating ran last year, you’d think at least one Eroscian would have shown signs of the strong reactions we’re seeing now. Especially since your intolerance for alcohol was well documented and the mating guidelines warn us about it.”

  The light changes and we follow the crowd as we cross the street. Oliver doesn’t let go of my hand, and I like it when he threads his fingers through mine. “We shouldn’t talk politics on our first day,” he says, and he lets out a small noise of disgust. “But I think we might have a similar view of your president.”

  I glance at him. “That’s wise, but I look forward to learning what your planet thinks of her some time.” We’ve reached the steps of my building and I stop. I’m told everything on Eroscia is contemporary and sterile looking. I wonder if he’s going to hate the quirks of my older home. “Here it is.” My apartment is in a historic building with lots of charm. It was originally a mansion, and we step into a hardwood floor entryway with a grand staircase before us. Oriental carpet muffles our footsteps as we climb up to the second floor.

  Once we’re inside my place, Oliver glances up at the high ceilings. “This is a beautiful building. Look at that crown molding.” He walks over to the wall. “Chair rails. This room was the dining room I bet.”

  “You must watch real estate shows.”

  He smiles at me. “I binge watched the one about old home restoration. It made me want to do one myself.”

  “Really? I adore old homes too.” I lead him to the guest room. “My dream is to own one some day.”

  “Then we will. City or country?” Oliver glances around the bedroom. I found an old sleigh bed frame at a flea market and restored it with gray chalk paint to make it shabby chic. The dresser is redone the same way, and I’ve decorated with blue and gray.

  “Country,” I say as he sets his bag down with a thud. “I want a wraparound porch with a swing.”

  Oliver chuckles. “Will you make me lemonade so we can sit out there on a hot summer day and wax on about when we were young?”

  I smile at the pleasant fantasy we’re creating. “Happily.” I walk over to a small bathroom door. “You have your own bathroom, and I got you some toiletries in case you forgot something.”

  “Thanks. I can unpack later.”

  “Okay. Let’s feed you.”

  “Please. I’m dying to try bacon.”

  I grin. “Bacon is good stuff.” As we walk back downstairs, I watch Oliver as he rubs his hand over the thick wooden banister, shiny with years of polish. His gaze darts around as he takes in more details of the home, and my hearts warms as I imagine raising a family in an old house we both treasure. I realize the bad mood I was in earlier has gone away. While I know I’m going to return to my nightmare after breakfast, I think I’m going to like having Oliver to distract me.

  Chapter 3

  As we approach the diner, I notice a large white sign in the window, and when we’re close enough for me to see it clearly I discover it reads ‘No coffee, cola or chocolate of any kind for aliens. Don’t ask!’

  I frown as I wonder how it must feel for Oliver, but he doesn’t seem phased when he says, “Whew. Bacon is still safe.”

  The door groans open as Oliver pulls it, and Gloria, a waitress I’m familiar with, scowls at him as she exits the kitchen. Her expression relaxes when she looks my way. “Hey, Gloria,” I say. “How are you holding up?”

  She offers me a tepid smile. “Better than you I imagine.”

  Oliver and I walk over to a booth, and I slide over the black vinyl seat to sit. I notice the usual coffee mugs that are set on the table are missing. He grabs a menu and the plastic cover is slick in my fingers as I open mine. Gloria comes over with a full mug of coffee for me and asks Oliver, “Anything to drink?”

  “Water, please.” says Oliver. He lets out a sigh as he leans back with the menu open. “How am I supposed to decide?”

  “Don’t worry. Just pick something. We can come every day until you’ve tried it all if you want.”

  He glances up with a glowing look that reminds me of a child who was just told they could get a puppy. “I may take you up on that.”

  Gloria comes back over with Oliver’s water, and after we place our orders I say, “Your profile says you’re a scientist. What was your job on Eroscia?”

  “Research mostly. In the area of nutrition.”

  “Like creating healthier versions of your food?”

  He inhales long and slow. “This place smells amazing. To answer your question, I was working on multiplying the impact of amino acids, but they were coagulating when mixed with base proteins. It took a few trials, but once I added a few neutral carbohydrates the flavor was off. I’m sure you’ve heard our food doesn’t have much taste, and I had to perform a…”

  As
I tune out his words I sniff too and notice the odors of bacon, coffee and cinnamon. I imagine food that tastes like cardboard mustn’t have delicious aromas. It makes me think I should cook for Oliver, because I think it might be like rediscovering the pleasures of some of my favorite meals. I recall Hannah’s husband Jake taught himself to cook using a simulator on Eroscia, and when I notice Oliver has stopped speaking I ask, “What do you do for fun?”

  Oliver swallows a mouthful of water. “I invent things.” He glances around the diner. “You know how some people notice details or love to watch people and imagine what they’re lives are like? I notice things that could be automated.”

  “Like what?”

  He taps on his plastic cup. “It would save the waitress time if you had a beverage dispenser at each table.”

  I picture an intricate system of pipes leading to each booth and shake my head because that can’t be what Oliver’s thinking. “How would that work?”

  He squints a bit as if he’s puzzled before he says, “Oh. That’s right. You don’t have—” Oliver makes a strange sound that I determine must be an Eroscian word since I don’t think I could repeat it. He smiles. “There goes that idea.”

  “Yes. We earthlings do have our limitations,” I joke.

  Oliver grins. “We don’t call you that. You have no idea how silly your perception of aliens is to us.”

  I flash to the stereotype of little green men, who aren’t the least bit sexy. “I’m glad. Because I prefer the real version.” Since Eroscians do have a green tint to their skin I say, “We did get the skin right.”

  Oliver reaches over and takes my hand. He holds it in his large palm. “Your skin appears too delicate.” He rubs his thumb over mine, and a pleasant tingle dances through me at his touch. His voice is low when he says, “You’re so soft, Morgan.”

  I gaze into his eyes and let out a small gasp when I notice his irises seems to be swirling like water around a rock in a river. “Th-thank you.”

  “You don’t take compliments well, do you?”

  I take them just fine. What I’m struggling with is how attracted I am to Oliver, because it’s unnerving to feel as if I have no control over my emotions. I say, “It’s been a long time since I had a date.”

  “You’re more beautiful than I imagined.” His voice wraps around me with the smoothness of honey, and I want to bask in it. “I’m happy you chose me.”

  I’m yanked out of my daze when the waitress appears with our meals, and I take a deep breath to compose myself before I dig into my food. I watch as Oliver lifts his silverware and cuts off a piece of bacon. When it’s in his mouth and he chews his eyes roll back in his head for a moment, and he lets out a moan of pleasure. “You definitely have food right on earth. This is amazing.” He digs into his eggs and continues to express his appreciation through small noises as he eats.

  I chuckle as his apparent joy. “I love watching a man enjoy his food.”

  Oliver licks his lips slowly as a sly grin forms on his face. “I’m not one to hide my feelings.” His gaze drops to my chest before darting back to my face. “I think I’m going to enjoy a lot of what earth has to offer.”

  Heat rushes to my face and I glance down at the breakfast I’ve barely touched. I’d chide myself at how easily Oliver is flustering me, but considering he’s here to become my husband, I suppose that’s the point. I cut off a piece of my pancake and lift the fork toward him. “Do you like sweet things?”

  He grins at me, and I flush more when I realize the innuendo. “Try me,” he says as he leans forward for me to feed him. Oliver stares intently at me as he wraps his hand around mine and holds the fork in his mouth before removing it slowly. He lets out a low noise as his eyes flutter shut for a moment. “Yeah. Sweet is good.” He removes the utensil from my hand, and I inhale sharply when he puts my finger in his mouth. He sucks on it before he releases it slowly. “Very good.”

  I swallow hard as my insides tremble in reaction, and Oliver chuckles at me. I frown and drop my gaze in embarrassment. “You’re teasing me.”

  “Morgan,” says Oliver. I glance up at him. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, but I did want to see a flush on your cheeks.” He leans in and whispers. “I find it sexy that I can get you ruffled. I don’t think you give up control easily.”

  “Oh.” He’s right that I like to keep my cool at all costs, but this is a discomfort I could get used to, considering how wonderful it feels to be attracted to him. I definitely want Oliver to stick around, and I recall he said he wanted to help save my business. While I really don’t want him involved, I know to make our relationship work I need to compromise. I wonder if I can find a way to make him feel like part of my solution by keeping him busy with something that won’t interfere with my real problem.

  I think about Oliver’s interest in automation and picture all the machines I have at work. I imagine he’d have plenty of thoughts on how to run those better. He might even be able to find ways to cut costs at my coffee shop, which could be useful since losing a growing chunk of my market calls for some serious penny pinching. I smile as his fork scrapes on his plate when he attempts to get as much of the remains as he can. I say, “You mentioned wanting to help me with my business. Do you think you could find more efficient ways to run things?”

  Oliver swallows his mouthful of food. “Of course we can. I’ll need a little time to study your current systems, but I’m sure I can come up with cost saving ideas for you. Maybe I’ll create a new machine for you too.”

  I envision Oliver tinkering in a workroom far away from the shop where he won’t be underfoot and decide I’m brilliant. “Thank you. That would be a huge help. I’m sorry I was so abrupt earlier.”

  “It’s fine. You’re under a lot of stress, and I didn’t take it personally.”

  “Even so, it wasn’t the welcome you deserve.”

  Oliver reaches over and stabs food on my plate. “You’ve made up for it.” He licks maple syrup off his lips. “I had no idea eating could be so pleasurable. Keep feeding me like this, and I’ll forgive anything.”

  Relief fills me along with a zing of desire as I imagine kissing the lips Oliver just licked. I paid for Oliver to come to earth with the hope I’d find a partner for life, and I do want to pursue a relationship with him. So even though my career seems to be taking a major step backward, Oliver gives me hope that my personal life might manage to be okay.

  Chapter 4

  After breakfast I drop Oliver off at the apartment before I return to work. The first thing I notice when I walk through the front door of my shop is the lack of customers. This time of day the seats are usually full, and there is a line for drinks. Right now only one table is occupied with two older women. Debbie glances up from her phone as I move behind the counter for a strong cup of coffee. She says, “It’s been dead all morning. I can’t believe how the Internet is blowing up over this.”

  Ian comes in from the back with a box of juice bottles, and he grunts as he sets them down by the refrigerator. “Did you hear about the new group trying to get everyone off caffeine? MACA,” he says with a note of disgust. “Mothers Against Caffeine Addiction.”

  I swallow a mouthful of coffee. “Seriously?” I shake my head at the lengths people will go to in an attempt to solve a high-profile problem. Unfortunately their solution adds to mine. “What’s their platform?”

  “No more than one cup a day for adults and a strict ban for all aliens. No coffee or caffeinated drinks for anyone under eighteen.” Ian shakes his head as he stands up with an empty box. “They’re coming up with what I believe are a bunch of bogus studies on how bad caffeine is for humans as well as aliens.”

  Debbie holds up her phone and says, “Courtney Stone just announced she’s holding a press conference. I’m going to go grab the laptop so we can watch.”

  When Debbie returns I notice the only customers we had have left, and my manager sets the computer on the counter. Ian, Debbie and I gather around to watch
.

  President Courtney Stone appears behind a podium. Her dark hair is pulled back in a severe style, and her red lips emphasize pale skin and piercing blue eyes. “Citizens of the United States,” she begins. The president outlines the events and dangers of aliens addicted to caffeine before she gets to what everyone wants to know. President Stone says, “I’m going to keep this simple. No Eroscian will be allowed to purchase or consume items that contain caffeine. Failure to comply will be grounds for immediate deportation back to Eroscia.” The reporters in the crowd begin to buzz and the President raises her voice. “Humans who are found to have provided caffeinated products to aliens will be punished with prison time.” There is a collective gasp before she says, “I’ll take questions now.”

  The President points at an older female reporter, and the journalist says, “Mothers Against Caffeine Addiction wants to take this further and ban caffeine for children. Do you have any plans to address that?”

  “At this time we are not limiting caffeine consumption for children, but I suggest companies begin to switch production to alternate choices.”

  I sink into a chair as another reporter asks a question. I tune out the voices as I try to wrap my brain around my new reality. I wonder how President Stone plans to police things. She has a history of harsh, swift judgment that makes me nervous for my staff.

  When the press conference is over, my crew is somber. Debbie grabs a coffee and comes to sit with me. Ian joins us with ice water. I say. “This is going to affect so many businesses beyond us. Candy stores, ice cream shops, bakeries.” I lean on my elbows and rub my temples as my headache returns. I think about how many products I have which don’t contain caffeine, because I’ve got to come up with a plan.