by Olivia Dade
But possibly she could take a little detour first. Who said she couldn’t check on Big Bertha before she dealt with crowds and basket-loving ex-fiancés?
No one else was going to visit the drafty, not-entirely-clean garage tonight. She could use it as a quiet space to relax and gather her composure. And as she opened the employee-only door at the back of the library, she comforted herself by considering the best-case scenario: Once she made her way to the party, maybe Sam wouldn’t see her in the hubbub. Maybe she’d be able to avoid him all night and escape his proximity unscathed. Maybe she’d end the evening with a large check and no new heartbreak.
Or maybe she’d run face-first into Sam as soon as she entered the building.
She sighed and let the door shut behind her, rubbing her squished nose. “Jesus Christ, Wolcott. Did you really need to station yourself directly behind the door? Like a murderous pylon?”
His mouth opened, then closed again. “How did I forget that part?”
“What?” she asked, suspicious.
“Nothing.” He cleared his throat. “Are you all right? Did I hurt you?”
No point in dragging this out. He needed to understand the situation, pronto. And then get out of her way so she could go spend her minimal retirement savings at the cash bar.
“I’ll recover.” Propping her fists on her hips, she glared at him. “Let me be completely direct with you, Sam. We broke up. So no matter how many hilarious butt-play-referencing pencils and romantically-named seed packets you give me, I’m not sleeping with you again. Furthermore, I won’t agree to adopt a child just because that was the best fucking French dip sandwich I’ve ever had in my entire goddamn life.”
She poked a finger into his chest. “And I’ve had a lot of French dip sandwiches over the years. Trust me on that.”
He raised his hands. “I do, I do.”
“I’m not returning the boots or the gloves,” she continued. “I was going to, but I decided keeping them would teach you an important lesson.”
“That lesson being?”
“I can’t be bought.”
He nodded. “Got it. I won’t be able to purchase your body for the price of deerskin garden gloves. Good to know for future reference.”
“And finally, I don’t understand the necklace. I’m definitely not keeping it, though. Not even as a teachable moment for you. It’s too expensive a present for an ex-lover.” Her finger poked him again. “You should know that already.”
“It’s an odd gift,” he agreed. “Particularly since you don’t like jewelry.”
“Exactly.”
He didn’t explain the necklace. Instead, he simply stared at her for a long moment, his brown eyes warm and affectionate. Determined. As if he somehow believed he could convince her to climb back into his bed and onto his cock. As if she were going to let him fuck her and then leave her when he found a better, more maternal option.
Well, she wasn’t. Not when she loved him so much it wrecked her.
“Here.” She dug through her purse and produced the jewelry box, then pressed it into his hand. “Take it back.”
Obediently, his fingers closed around it. But his gaze never left hers. “Don’t you want to know why I gave you the necklace?”
“I guess.” She licked her dry lips. “I mean, if you want to tell me. Although I’m not keeping it, no matter what you say.”
“Of course.”
He smiled that easygoing grin, which didn’t fool her anymore. The man was a menace. Smart, relentless, and crafty. Dangerous. But she wasn’t going down so easily this time.
And she meant that in every possible way.
“Con…” He shifted from foot to foot. “I gave you the necklace because it wouldn’t get in your way while you gardened, unlike a ring. Especially if you tucked it beneath your sweater or T-shirt.”
At the mention of a ring, her ability to move disappeared.
“I gave you the necklace because you could thread it through a ring and wear both around your neck. Assuming you had a ring you wanted to keep close.”
If this is going where I think it’s going, Samuel Alston Wolcott is a dead man.
“And I gave you the necklace because I love you and plan to offer you that ring.” His throat worked as he swallowed hard. “Right now, if you’ll accept it.”
He dropped to one knee, heedless of the dirty floor. The ring seemingly appeared from thin air, nestled in a black velvet box he held in the palm of his hand. A single diamond in a plain band. Nothing ostentatious or complicated.
The ring was perfect. She adored it and hated it at the same time.
“Constance Marie Chen, I love you. I don’t need children. I just need you. Please marry me.”
She didn’t hesitate. “Fuck, no.”
“You…” He let out a slow breath. “You’re saying no?”
Dashing away angry, heartbroken tears with her knuckles, she stifled the urge to kick him while he was down. Without her boots, she’d probably break her toes before she did his lumberjack frame any real damage. Not worth the risk.
Which was precisely the point.
“We can’t gamble on whether you’ll eventually hate me. For not giving you what you want. For depriving you of children.” She pointed a shaking finger at him. “You said you needed kids, Sam. Needed. So go find a woman who’ll give you what you need, because I can’t. I won’t. And I’m stunned you’re being this cruel to me.”
He slowly got to his feet, his face drawn and white. “Cruel?”
“You know how much I love you. But you also know I can’t say yes to your proposal. So you’re making me walk away from you a second time? When you’re offering me the most beautiful fucking ring ever forged in human history? Only hours after you sent me that amazing French dip?” Sniffling, she determinedly looked away from the ring. “That’s mean, Sam.”
Before she could swipe at her fresh tears, he did it for her. His fingertips smoothed away the wetness. And then he was cupping her cheek with such tenderness she wanted to die.
“Con.” His voice had turned gentle but insistent, in a way she’d heard at least once before. The night he’d convinced her to try a real relationship with him. “Think hard, love. Would I ever hurt you like that?”
Her lips pulled into a mutinous line. “I hadn’t thought so. But here we are.”
Somehow, he kept moving closer, until he was only inches away. She wanted to flee. She did. But her feet, probably angry at her footwear choices that night, refused to budge.
“I’m not gambling with your heart or mine.” Sam kissed away an errant tear, his lips and beard soft against her skin. “I wouldn’t do that to you. I wouldn’t come to you unless I were sure of myself and what I wanted.”
She forced herself to stay strong. “Children. A big family. That’s what you want.”
“Yes to the big family.” Without her noticing, he’d edged so close she could feel the brush of his suit jacket against her dress. The smooth material of his pants against her bare legs. “I already have one of those, though, thanks to you and my sister and all our friends. Pen had to help me see it, but I should have realized it myself weeks ago, when everyone descended on the hospital to take care of us. They’re our family, legalities and blood ties be damned.”
She agreed with him, but only to a point. “Having a large surrogate family isn’t the same as having little baby Sams running around your house, and you know it.”
“Which brings us back to the most important issue. Children.” His eyes met hers, and he didn’t flinch under her scrutiny. “I thought a lot about whether I could accept never having kids of my own. But it occurred to me that your brothers and sisters will keep me plenty occupied, at least until they learn to handle their own problems. They’re basically your children. And once we get married, they’ll become my family too. My children, in a way.”
“They’ll certainly ask you for money like they’re your children,” s
he muttered.
“No doubt.” A wry smile crossed his face. “I also wanted to find out how much I enjoyed kids in reality, rather than in the abstract. So I babysat Casey for the weekend.”
“How’d it go?”
His smile widened to a grin. “She’s a really sweet, smart kid, and I’m delighted to be her new uncle. That said, most of our weekend together was spent playing made-up games where the rules constantly changed. And any deviation from those rules resulted in a complete emotional breakdown and loud wailing.”
She couldn’t resist. “On your part?”
“Not at first. But by the end of the weekend, yes. Hell, yes. When Penny came to pick her up, I almost cried with happiness.”
“It’d be different with your own children,” she said. “Or so I hear.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. I’m not willing to take that chance.” He shuddered slightly. “Penny tells me Casey is an especially well-behaved and wonderful child, and I still wanted to gouge out my ears by the end of the weekend.”
Her lip stung where she was biting it. “I don’t know, Sam.”
“Here’s what it comes down to, love.” He bent his head to meet her eye-to-eye, all levity gone. “I wanted kids. Not because I was so fond of them, but because I was afraid of being alone again. But even without kids—hell, even without our friends—I wouldn’t be alone. You’d never willingly leave me. I don’t need children to guarantee someone in my life who loves me. I just need you.”
Sincerity blazed from every solemn line in his handsome face. He obviously believed what he was saying. And in response to that earnest fervor, a smidgen of hope took root in the depths of her blighted heart.
Still, she wasn’t ready to surrender so easily. Before she reached out to him again, she needed to lay down some essential truths and see how he reacted to them. Test him. For the sake of her future and his.
“I want to be clear.” Her hands clenched into nervous fists at her sides. “I can’t predict the future, but I don’t think I’ll ever change my mind about children. And you’re five years younger than me, which gives you plenty of time to find another woman, fuck her like a bareback demon, and raise lots of kids before you even turn forty.”
He nodded politely, but he seemed more amused than tempted. “Do most demons wear condoms?”
“Shut up.” Determined to have her say, she continued with ruthless specificity. “If you decide to marry me, you should assume you’ll never have children of your own. No Lamaze classes or holding your wife’s hand as she gives birth to your baby. No first steps or first words. No redheaded, brown-eyed toddlers to carry on your shoulders. No little girls to bring to the hockey rink. No boys to teach how to shave.” She paused. “Not that you actually shave, but you know what I mean.”
He blinked at her, completely unimpressed. “What about nieces and nephews? And are all our friends sterilized too?”
“No.” She considered the matter. “At least, I assume not.”
“Are you saying they won’t welcome me as a favorite uncle? Or allow me to babysit?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I doubt they’ll let you assist in childbirth.”
“I’m sure Angie will thoroughly describe any baby-birthing experiences. Most likely in enough graphic detail that I’ll feel like I was there. Unwillingly. And either Helen or Penny might end up with a redheaded baby, due to the magic of genetics.” His broad shoulders lifted in casual dismissal. “I’m good.”
To her shock, he seemed to mean it. “That would be enough for you?”
“Yup.” He stroked away the last traces of her tears. “What can I say? It’s been a revelatory three weeks without you. Not to mention miserable. I love you, Con. I’ll love you until my dying breath. Maybe even longer, if we’ve invented the technology to download our consciousness into computers before I kick the bucket.”
She glanced up at the rafters on the ceiling. “Geek.”
“You know it.” His cheek was rubbing against hers, and she wanted to purr. She also wanted to feel that beard against other, more sensitive parts of her body. But she had a few final matters of business she needed to address first.
“So you’re absolutely certain you don’t need children?”
He nodded immediately. “Yes.”
“And you want to marry me?”
His breath caught. “As soon as you’re willing.”
Every inch of her seemed to be shaking, and she had to lean against his sturdy frame for support. He accepted her weight. Welcomed it, wrapping a warm arm around her back as he nuzzled the top of her head.
She was bursting out of her skin with happiness and hope and love. And she only had one question left. “Will you tell me where you keep getting those amazing sandwiches?”
“I will,” he vowed, his brown eyes bright.
“Then stop being lazy, Wolcott.” She held out her left hand and wiggled it impatiently. “Give me my fucking ring.”
***
Turned out, Tina didn’t appreciate finding two of her employees half dressed and close to intercourse on board the Bookmobile.
“To be fair, it’s not the first time you’ve caught your supervisees clearly going at it,” Con pointed out, straightening her dress. “Remember what happened with Angie?”
A long sigh from outside the Bookmobile filtered through the open door. “Unfortunately, yes. I do remember, Ms. Chen. Despite my many attempts to forget.”
“Well, then?”
Her fiancé looked so goddamn hot in a suit, she could hardly stand it. Once the library director announced the winning department—either the Bookmobile Bitches or IT, she sincerely hoped—she was hustling her man straight to the parking lot. And then…
“When I get you home, I’m going to take you so hard and so deep, you’ll think you’re in a diamond mine,” she whispered into his ear.
For some reason, he seemed more amused than aroused.
“I may have encountered a similar situation in the past, but repetition of the experience has failed to lessen my dismay.” From the tap-tap-tapping sound of a loafer against the garage floor, Tina was losing patience. “I haven’t altered my position when it comes to intimacy on library grounds: Don’t do it. Ever. If I find out it happened again, I’ll fire both of you. Am I understood?”
Sam re-knotted his tie and smoothed it down before emerging from Big Bertha. “We understand. I apologize, Tina.”
“Me too. I’m sorry.” Con climbed down the steps carefully. Her legs were still a bit shaky from the way she’d come hard against Sam’s eager tongue only ten minutes before. “We won’t do it again.”
“Hmm.” Tina seemed neither convinced nor impressed. But her severe expression softened once she got a look at Con’s hand. “Lovely ring. I take it congratulations are in order?”
Looping an arm around Sam’s waist, Con tugged him close. “This geeky, ginger lumberjack is mine forever, Tina. To have and to hold. As long as I don’t do so vaginally while on library property, as you rightly reminded us.”
The assistant director appeared to pray for strength. “I’m going to ignore that last bit, Ms. Chen. But I’m delighted for you both.” After giving each of them a tight hug, Tina herded them toward the door leading to the main library. “The DOTY presentation is happening soon, so we need to hurry.”
They arrived just in time to hear the winner announced. Con had barely seated herself next to Sam, Helen, Penny, and all their friends when Marsha pranced over to accept the check and the crowd’s applause. She gave a queenly wave from the dais, looking down her narrow nose at the peons below.
“Fucking children’s department,” Con muttered.
“Those Photoshopped pictures probably made the difference.” Sam patted her arm comfortingly. “But don’t worry, love. Next year, we’ll Photoshop Big Bertha stopping in front of the pyramids of Giza and the Grand Canyon. Maybe a research station in Antarctica too. The donors and Board will be very impress
ed by your initiative, as well as your ability to drive across oceans.”
“You promise?”
He gave her a quick buss on the mouth. “I promise.”
“Marsha is definitely going down next year?”
“Like an elephant tripping over a shoelace.” He narrowed his eyes at the stage, where Marsha had produced a congratulatory sash from somewhere. “That woman is a menace. And she’ll find that starting a Photoshop war with the IT department is very much like starting a land war in Asia. Ill-advised at best, disastrous at worst.”
“Thank you, Sam. You always know exactly how to make me feel better.” Con blinked hard, suddenly teary again. “I hate Marsha so much, honey. But not nearly as much as I love you.”
His slow, deceptive grin appeared. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Want to show me?”
“Anytime, Wolcott.”
He surged to his feet and intertwined their fingers. “Then stop being lazy, Chen. Let’s go home and fail to make beautiful babies together.”
“Sounds like a plan.” She saluted their friends around the table. “I want on top.”
Her voice might have carried a bit too far, because Tina buried her face in her hands several tables over. Con made a mental note to apologize to her later.
Sam patted Con’s ass and ushered her out the door. “Of course you do, Constance Marie. I wouldn’t have expected anything less.”
If you enjoyed Driven to Distraction, be sure not miss Olivia Dade’s
Ready to Fall
Elementary school teacher and part-time librarian Sarah Mayhew has the perfect plan: show off her cycling skills at her school’s bike retreat and attract her oblivious coworker in the process. Her end game? Fall in love. Only one problem: she needs to find someone to teach her how to ride a bike pronto. But when she catches sight of Chris Dean’s gorgeous physique, her best laid plans are about to go off track . . .
Chris is not looking for a girlfriend. He’s getting over his last one by focusing on his bike repair business. So when a feisty, sexy schoolteacher urges him to help improve her cycling skills, he does it strictly for the money. He vows he won’t repeat history, even for a blonde bombshell like Sarah. But when the two find themselves alone on the road, they can’t help taking a detour straight into each other’s arms . . .