by Beverly Farr
As a minister’s son, he probably wouldn’t be surprised when she didn’t mention alcohol. “I've got juice, milk or soda. What sounds good?”
“Milk” He laughed as Watson refused to catch the foil ball and climbed up a carpeted cat toy to glower down at him. “Game over.”
Olivia handed him a glass of milk. Crick lifted his head and sniffed. Michael held the glass high and said, “He reminds me of Jeff. He wants to know what everyone else is eating. Jeff will steal bottles right out of his brothers' and sister's mouths. One day I found him sucking on his own and holding two more, one in each hand.”
Olivia got herself a glass as well. Crick left Michael and wound himself around her ankles. She bent down to scratch him. He purred loudly and sniffed at her drink, too.
“Where should I put this?” Michael held up his empty glass. With all those kids, he’d probably gotten into the habit of eating quickly.
“I'll take it,” she said, but in the process of taking it from him and turning toward the kitchen, she tripped over Crick.
She watched as if in slow motion, the glass flew in an arc, landed on her vinyl kitchen floor, and shattered.
She came down on the carpet, her legs twisted underneath her. Crick and Watson, frightened by the crash, ran upstairs. Michael bent over her. “Are you okay?” he asked and held out his hand.
“I'm fine.” She ignored a twinge in her left ankle. She straightened her glasses which were hanging from one ear. “I'm usually not such a klutz.” Which was true, but she wouldn't blame him if he didn't believe her. Whenever she was around Michael, she was self-conscious and awkward. First she spilled her purse all over his car, and now this. At least he hadn't seen her crawling on the cement floor at the warehouse, picking up rapidly defrosting French fries.
He took her hand and pulled her toward him, bringing her to her feet. “In my house, we don't dare drink out of glass. Everything is plastic and will probably stay that way for the next fifteen years.”
Olivia regretfully let go of his hand. She looked at the kitchen. There were a few big pieces of glass and a million tiny slivers glistening on the floor. “What a mess.”
“It's only a glass.” He quoted her. “No one was hurt.”
“Thank goodness.”
In a few minutes they finished cleaning the floor. Michael stood at her back door. She still didn't want him to leave.
Her eyes drank in the sight of him filling her doorway. Remember this. Remember the way his hair falls over his forehead, those intense blue eyes, that wonderful nose, the strong lines of his chin and chiseled mouth.
“Thank you for a nice evening,” she said and opened the door. “I had a good time.”
He stared at her. “So did I.”
Just one kiss, she thought. Was that asking for too much? She nervously tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “I guess we should thank your mom for kicking you out of the house,” she said quietly.
He leaned down to kiss her cheek, just as she turned her head and their lips met.
CHAPTER SIX
Yes. For a big man, his touch was surprisingly gentle, and Olivia relaxed with a sigh. Without thinking, one kiss became two, then three.
He's too tall, she thought and unconsciously raised herself higher by standing on her tip toes. But the movement undermined her balance and she swayed forward. His hands caught her waist, steadying her. For an instant her denim clad legs were against his. Then he stepped back, breaking contact.
He took a deep breath. “That was . . .”
Wonderful, magical, she thought, looking into his eyes. She’d settle for really nice.
“. . . a mistake,” he finished.
Olivia felt her face flush.
“I’m saying this wrong,” he said quickly. “It was nice. You’re a great person, but I don’t want to be anything more than friends.”
Olivia tried to swallow the sting of rejection. Now she knew how guys felt whenever she used that line.
Her throat felt tight. “I guess we both . . . forgot for a few minutes.”
His eyes were dark as they searched her face. He hesitated as if wanting to say more, then said, “I'll just say good night.”
She held the screen door open. “Good night, Michael.” She had a sinking feeling that she should be saying good bye instead of good night.
#
Michael patted his jeans pocket as he stepped onto her well-lit porch. He stopped and patted his other pockets, then turned around with an abashed grin. “Keys. I hope I didn't lock them in the truck.”
Olivia watched him, standing with her arms folded, as he walked down to his truck and looked inside the windows. He came back to the house. He felt like an idiot. “Maybe they fell out when I was sitting on the floor.”
“Hopefully they're still there.”
“What do you mean by hopefully?”
“Watson,” she said succinctly.
“He eats keys?”
“He hides them.”
Michael smiled. And he’d thought a household with five babies was interesting.
Together they walked back through the kitchen to the den. They checked under the furniture. They found a pen, a sock and a cat toy, but no keys. Olivia peered in the fireplace and Michael searched the cat climbing toy. He found a set of keys inside a carpeted tunnel, but they weren't his. He held them up. “Yours?”
Olivia took them from him and put them in her pocket. “Yes, thanks.” At his raised eyebrow, she added, “I have three sets.” She looked through the kitchen and the laundry room, checking both sides of the refrigerator and around the clothes washer with no success. “Wait here,” she said. “He has a few favorite hiding places upstairs.”
“Don't worry,” Michael said. “If you can't find them, I'll go home. My mom will let me in. I've got duplicate keys at home.”
“It will just take a minute,” she called from the staircase.
While he waited, Michael lay down on the couch and arranged a square pillow behind his head. He might as well be comfortable. Crick jumped up on his stomach. “Where's your friend the klepto?” Michael asked, but the gray tabby didn't answer. He merely butted his head against Michael's hand, demanding a rubdown.
“And you're not on my favorite pet list, either,” Michael reminded as he scratched behind Crick's ears. “Cleaning up broken glass is not fun.”
Crick tilted his head until Michael's fingers reached the preferred spot. Then he closed his green eyes and purred.
“I know how you feel,” Michael said. If he were the purring type, he'd have been purring a few minutes ago with Olivia. He'd only intended to kiss her cheek, but then she kissed him, and she was so soft, so accepting, it had been difficult to stop. Just remembering it made him want to kiss her again.
He sighed. It was better not to go there.
Crick meowed, indicating that Michael wasn't giving him enough attention. “Well, excuse me,” Michael said, and ran his hand down Crick's silky body. He'd forgotten how relaxing it was to pet a cat.
He heard Olivia walking across the floor in the room directly above him.
Michael glanced at his watch. It was after midnight. Time had certainly flown by. He yawned. Olivia seemed to be taking a long time to find his keys. He considered getting up to say good bye, but Crick had fallen asleep on his stomach and was snoring tiny cat snores. I'll wait a few more minutes, Michael thought, and closed his eyes.
#
Olivia found Michael's keys on the floor between her mattress and the wall. “Bad cat,” she told Watson, who had followed her from room to room, curious to see what she was doing.
Olivia caught sight of herself in the full length mirror on the back of her closet door. She had that 'well-kissed' look. She knew what her father would say if he could see her now. “Who is this young man and what are his intentions?”
Unfortunately, he didn’t have any intentions. She brushed her hair with rough, quick strokes, then pulled it back into a pony tail. She didn't want to take
the time to braid it. She hurried back downstairs. “I found them,” she announced, then noticed Michael asleep on her couch.
“Wake up,” she said in a louder voice. “I have your keys.” He didn't move, didn't stir.
She knelt beside him. He looked so peaceful, it seemed a shame to wake him. She shook his shoulder. “Michael! It's time for you to go home.”
He turned slightly, trapping her hand under his arm. Olivia tugged her hand free. “Michael!”
How could a man who was used to getting up with children every night sleep so soundly?
She shook him again, but he still didn't wake. What was she supposed to do now? Kiss him as if he were a male Sleeping Beauty and she was his Princess Charming?
Bad idea. She'd like it, but he'd probably sleep right through it. For a few minutes, she sat on the floor, admiring his profile, the arch of his eyebrows, the flare of his nostrils, the lips that were soft now but that had been so persuasive against hers. No man should kiss that well.
Olivia sighed. Sometimes she wished -- She caught herself. She wished for a lot of things, but right now it was nearly one o'clock in the morning. What should she do about the good looking man in her den? She watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest.
Her fingers itched to sketch him.
“I guess you can spend the night,” she told Michael.
Her mother wouldn’t approve. Olivia smiled. “It's not what it sounds like, Mom,” she said. She draped a quilt over Michael and went upstairs to get some pencils and paper.
#
The room was filled with light. Where was he? Where were the kids? Michael sat up straight, then relaxed as he remembered. He'd fallen asleep on Olivia’s couch. His mother was home with the kids. Everything was fine.
He fingered the brightly colored patchwork quilt that covered his legs.
He looked at his watch. It was after eight. He hadn't slept so long in ages. He stood up and stretched. Other than a stiff shoulder, he felt fine. Actually, he thought as he rubbed his bristly chin, he felt great. Where was Olivia?
The house was quiet. He didn't want to go upstairs to wake her. That would embarrass her and might be considered creepy. It was probably better to leave a note and sneak out quietly.
He walked into the kitchen and found Watson eating dry cat food from a half-filled bowl. “Hi, buddy,” he said, then saw the note taped to the back door.
It was from Olivia. At the top of the page was a sketch of him lying on the couch, covered with the quilt, with two cats sitting on top of him. He smiled. She had an amazing talent. “Dear Michael,” he read. “I had to leave early this morning, and I didn't want to wake you.” At this point she had drawn a smiley face. Had she really needed to go or had she left the house to avoid seeing him?
“Feel free to rummage through the refrigerator,” the note continued. “Your keys are on the top shelf. Just lock the door on your way out and DON'T LET THE CATS OUTSIDE!!! Thanks again for a lovely evening. Your friend, Olivia.”
Your friend. As subtle as a pickaxe.
But what did he expect? As much as he liked her, he didn’t want to be anything more than friends. He didn’t have the time or energy for any more obligations in his life.
And even if he did, he wasn’t good with women. Mary Ellen had once been a nice person, too, and living with him had soured her.
He crumpled up the note, then smoothed it out again. He wanted to save the drawing.
As soon as he unlocked the back door, both cats were there, anxious to go outside. He had to push them away with his foot and slip out quickly, slamming the door behind him.
Someone had bolted his front door, so he had to ring the doorbell and wait to be let inside. His mother answered the door. “Well, look what the cat dragged in.”
Michael didn't comment. He'd had enough cats for a while.
“Did you have a good time?” she asked meaningfully.
It was too early in the morning for an interrogation. “Yes.”
He saw Grant and Linc playing with board books in the living room. He bent down to give them brief hugs. He'd only been gone one evening, and he'd missed them. Wash was standing up, next to the curtains.
Wash grinned and held his hands out. “Hi Dad,” he said clearly.
Michael hugged him, too, and kissed his blonde head. “Did you hear that?” he asked his mother. “He said, 'Hi Dad,' plain as day.”
“That's nothing,” she said. “He's been saying 'I love you, grandma' all week.”
Michael inwardly smiled. Maybe they all practiced selective hearing. He could hear another one of his children opening and closing cupboard doors in the kitchen in a steady rhythm. Bang. Bang. Bang. It was Jeff. He smiled in greeting and started jabbering. Michael rubbed his head. Amelia was sitting near him, chewing on a big plastic spoon and drooling all over her chin. “Hi sweetheart. Try not to gag yourself.” Michael sniffed. “Someone needs a new diaper,” he said and checked them both. “Amelia, you win the prize.” He swung her up into his arms and carried her like a football down the hall to her bedroom.
His mother followed after him. “Where were you last night?”
Already last night seemed like a long time ago. “I was next door at Olivia's house.”
“Olivia?” Jana Claiborne repeated. “You haven't mentioned her before.”
“Don't get your hopes up,” Michael said as he changed a wiggly Amelia. If he wasn't careful, she'd start planning a wedding. “We went ice-skating and then I was so tired, I fell asleep on her couch. Nothing else.” He wouldn't tell her about kissing Olivia good-night.
“Ice-skating? That sounds fun.” Mrs. Claiborne took Amelia from him and dressed her in a clean romper.
Miss Kate walked past the doorway, carrying a rag and a spray bottle of window cleaner. She leaned her head inside. “Olivia invited Michael to a barbecue a few weeks ago,” she told his mother, then ignoring his snort of annoyance, spoke to him. “The children have already had their breakfast, but I can scramble a few eggs if you'd like.”
“Don't bother.” He walked past Miss Kate to the kitchen to find a bowl, a spoon and a box of cereal.
Miss Kate and his mother exchanged knowing looks.
#
SIX HOURS EARLIER
Olivia was surprised to hear the phone ring. It was almost three in the morning. She put her pencil down and picked up her phone. It was Shannon. “Hello?”
“I'm having the baby,” her friend gasped.
“But you're not due until November.”
“Tell that to --” She paused. “the baby.”
“I'll be right over.” Olivia wrote a quick note to Michael. She hated leaving him asleep on the couch, but she didn't want to wake him, either. He deserved a good night’s sleep. When she arrived at her friend's house, Shannon and Dan were already in their car, waiting for her. Dan handed her a house key. “Fix whatever for breakfast and the girls will tell you how to get to cross country.”
Shannon, looking pale, just said, “Thank you, Olivia.”
“Get out of here,” Olivia said with a smile, then stood in the driveway, watching as they drove away. A new baby. How exciting for them. She said a brief silent prayer that everything would go well.
She slept a few hours on their lumpy couch, until a high pitched voice demanded, “Who are you?”
It was Eric, the nine year old. He was eating a bowl of sugar frosted cereal with a large scoop of ice-cream on top. Chocolate syrup dripped down the sides of the ice-cream and ringed his mouth. A kid after her own heart.
Olivia sat up and pushed her hair out of her eyes. “Good morning. I'm Olivia, one of your mom's friends from work.”
“Can I go to Dave's house?”
No “where's my mom?” or “is she having the baby?”, just “Can I go to Dave's house?” Olivia smiled. “I'm afraid not. I'm going to fix breakfast and then take your sisters to cross country.”
Eric started walking back to the kitchen. “They're already late.”
&n
bsp; “What?”
“It's seven fifteen. The bus leaves at seven.”
Olivia groaned. If he were anything like her brothers, he had been up for an hour and had patiently watched the clock, waiting until seven fifteen to wake her. She ran down the hall to the girls' room. “Trish, Katie, wake up!”
Katie couldn't find a clean towel and Trish insisted on making toast. “If I don't eat something, I'll pass out.” Somehow, Olivia managed to get them dressed, fed, and to the meet by nine o’clock. She sat on the sidelines with Eric who spent the entire time playing games and watching videos on his phone.
After the meet, they found a drive-through for a late lunch, then came home. Olivia saw a chore chart magnetized to the front of the refrigerator, but they assured her that it was an old chart that they didn't use any more. Eventually, Olivia let them do whatever they wanted in their rooms while she cleaned the kitchen.
She was putting a pan of lasagna in the refrigerator that afternoon, when Dan came in the back door. “How's Shannon?” she asked.
“Mother and baby are doing fine.” He looked exhausted, but pleased.
“Dad, Dad!” the kids screamed and ran to him.
“A boy,” he said through the din. “You've got a new brother. He weighs seven pounds, four ounces and he's long - twenty one inches.”
“What's his name?”
“Caleb.”
“But I wanted you to name him Luc with a c.” That was from Trish, who had told Olivia the names of all ten children she planned to have one day. Katie didn't want to have any children because “the whole process is disgusting.” Whether she referred to the conception or the birth, Olivia didn't know and didn't want to ask.
Olivia watched Dan and his children for a few minutes. He stood with his arm around Trish's shoulder, hugging her to him. He gave Eric a mock punch when he talked about how this baby was going to need a big brother 'to show him the ropes.'“
“Let's call Mom,” Katie suggested and they all huddled around the phone.
It was just one of those happy moments that pass too quickly. Olivia found her purse and waved good-bye to Dan. He said again, “Thank you.”