The Swear Jar

by Osorio, Audra

  He kissed her forehead. “Meara?”

  She stirred at the sound of his voice. “Hmm?”

  “Meara, sweetheart, we should eat something. Wake up and have something to eat with me.”

  “Duncan, is it still your birthday?”

  “Yes, for a few more hours. I can make us some sandwiches.”

  She opened her eyes and sat up, covering herself with the blanket. “I should make you dinner. It’s your day.”

  “I insist. Here’s a t-shirt for you. I’ll go make the sandwiches. Meet me downstairs when you’re ready.” He kissed her forehead again.

  She buried her nose in the t-shirt he had given her, hoping it would smell like him. She put on her bra and panties. She slipped on the t-shirt. She picked up their clothes and folded them on his dresser. She lined up their shoes by the bed. She pushed and pulled the bedclothes until they looked presentable. She fluffed the pillows and picked up the afghan. His t-shirt covered her thighs, but not as much of her legs as she would have liked.

  As she went downstairs, she wrapped the afghan around her shoulders. In the kitchen, he was busy preparing the sandwiches. He didn’t notice her in the doorway. She hopped up onto one of the bar stools at the kitchen counter. He turned to see her sitting there, smiling at him. She was wrapped in Brenda’s afghan. He corrected himself. Brenda had crocheted it, but it belonged to him. Now it belonged to Meara.

  “Did the t-shirt fit?” he asked.

  “It hugs the right spots. The afghan helps,” she blushed, opening the afghan to let him see.

  He inhaled and exhaled deeply. “Do you know those magazines we get at the library listing ways to drive your man wild? Wearing his clothes has to be on that list. It’s definitely working.”

  She giggled. His face went blank. He put down the knife he was holding. He caressed her dimple and ran his fingers through her hair. He pushed in between her legs and slipped his arm around her waist.

  “I thought you were going to feed me,” she said.

  “Are you hungry?” he whispered.

  “I’m not sure we’re talking about the same thing,” she cooed.

  “I think you’re right. We do need some sustenance. I promised a third pillow fight. I’m a man of my word. It’s hard not to grab you and have my way with you on that stool.”

  “And waste those good sandwiches you’re making? I don’t think so, Sir Duncan.”

  “Lady Meara, I will summon all my knightly willpower and feed you.” He went back to making sandwiches. “Go through the fridge and the cabinets. Put whatever you want on the table.”

  “Can I put that on the table?” she asked innocently, slapping him on the butt.

  “Woman, you’re evil,” he said, trying to control himself.

  “Why, yes. Yes, I am,” she giggled.

  Pulling her into an embrace, he nuzzled her neck. “You have two choices. The stool or the table.”

  Her ears turned red. “Ah…”

  The telephone rang. He ignored it, but she shook her head. He rolled his eyes.

  “Saved by the phone. You should answer. It could be important.” She grinned.

  He checked. “It’s Andrew. Probably calling for my birthday. It can go to voicemail.”

  “No way! Answer it! Remember we have all weekend.”

  He sighed. “You win. For now. I’ll take it in the other room. Hello, Andrew! How are you? Fine, fine, thank you.”

  He spoke with Andrew for a few minutes. Before finishing the call, he reaffirmed plans for Thanksgiving. As he said goodbye, he found a staff emergency contact list on the dining room table. Diana’s number was next to Meara’s name. He quickly dialed Diana’s phone number. Anne answered on the second ring. He said hello and asked for Diana.

  “Hi, Diana. Yes, Meara’s fine. No, I don’t want to get rid of her. Diana, I need to ask a favor.” He explained what he had planned for the weekend. “She doesn’t like surprises? Yes, I’m taking my life into my own hands, but your sister is worth it. Thank you, Diana.”

  He was going to enjoy this weekend very much, as long as Meara didn’t kill him. If she did, it would be a very short weekend. His library would need a new director. Smiling, he returned to the kitchen. There was something baking in the oven.

  “What’s that?” he asked, curious.

  “I found cake mix and frosting in your cabinets. I’m making you a birthday cake.”

  They enjoyed a quiet dinner of turkey sandwiches and potato chips. He gave her soda to drink and waited for her to bounce off the walls, but she didn’t. He was relieved and she giggled. They curled up on the couch to watch the screwball comedy “My Man Godfrey.” It was one of his favorites and she loved it. Once the cake was ready, she called him to the kitchen.

  She had two candles on the cake. “One candle represents the number of years and the other is for good luck. Last year, Anne put all the candles on my cake. Not a pretty sight.”

  She sang him for him. He wrapped his arms around her. It was the sweetest thing anyone had done for him in a very long time. His heart was full of love for her.

  “Make three wishes,” she said softly.

  Without letting her go, he blew out the candles. “Thank you for everything.”

  “Anything for you, Duncan my love,” she whispered.

  “I’m going to hold you to that,” he said cryptically. “No questions right now.”

  He cut two slices of cake. They headed back to the couch where she covered them with the afghan. Snuggling close, they ate the cake. He set the empty plates on the coffee table and they curled up under the afghan to watch late night news. Holding her in his embrace, he felt her relax.

  He kissed her forehead. “I love you, Meara. Thank you for the best birthday ever.”

  “I love you. I’ll never get tired of saying that. You’re welcome. Thank you for a wonderful day too,” she whispered sleepily.

  He silently prayed she would still love him after she learned of his surprise plans for the weekend. He kissed the top of her head and listened to her breathing. She was fast asleep. As he closed his eyes, he wondered about the pillow fight he had promised for the wee hours of the morning. She was the first to wake up. She extricated herself from his embrace and padded to the bathroom. When she came back, she gently nudged him.

  “Duncan? Sweetheart? We should go upstairs. Sleeping on the couch can’t be good for our backs.”

  His eyes popped open. “Are you trying to get me into bed?”

  “Yes, I am. Let’s go upstairs. And no funny business from you until we’re both well rested. Understood?” She wagged her finger.

  “I’m innocent! You’re the one luring me to bed. Temptress.”

  “Let’s go. And keep your hands where I can see them, mister.”

  They held hands as they climbed the stairs. He was surprised to see the bedclothes straightened and his clothes folded on the dresser. He pulled down the blanket. She climbed into bed.

  “It looks like I have a cleaning fairy,” he teased.

  “It’s a librarian thing,” she giggled.

  “Oh, no, not the giggle. I’m not strong enough yet.”

  “Get into bed and go to sleep!” She pointed next to her.

  “Only if you hug me.”

  “Should I tuck you in and sing you a lullaby?”

  “It’s still my birthday, so yes.” He climbed into bed and snuggled close to her.

  “You’ve been tortured enough with my singing.”

  “I like your singing.”

  “You must be in love.”

  They curled up in bed, pulling up the blanket. He tucked her into his chest. It wasn’t long before he was snoring lightly. She sighed, drifting off to sleep. In the wee hours of the morning, she woke up. He was spooned behind her, his arm wrapped tightly around her waist. He was awake too. He pulled her hair back from her neck and gently nuzzled her. He pressed himself up against her buttocks.

  “Good morning,” he growled.

  “Good morning
,” she giggled.

  He lowered his arm to her thighs, pulling her closer. There was no mistaking he was aroused. He nibbled her ear and moved his hand slowly up her body to her breasts. He stroked her nipples.

  “Are you ready for another pillow fight?” he whispered.

  “Are you?” she asked.

  “I think I can manage.”

  “We’ll see about that,” she growled.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  While Duncan nuzzled Meara, she grabbed a pillow and whacked his head. Surprise, he laughed. She giggled. He grabbed a pillow and whacked her leg.

  “You said this was a pillow fight, didn’t you?” she grinned evilly, hitting him in the head again.

  “I did. I guess I’ll have to be more specific next time,” he said, hitting her hip.

  “You can do better than that. It’s only a pillow. Are you afraid of hurting me?” she teased, hitting his chest a little harder.

  Groaning, he hit her in the head. Knocking her off guard, she fell onto her back. He didn’t think he had hit her that hard. Concerned, he reached out for her.

  “Ouch. Is that all you’ve got, mister?” She scrambled up and whacked his chest.

  “Are you okay?” Laughing, he cautiously hit her side.

  “I’m fine. Tired yet?” She slammed the side of his head.

  “No, I’m just getting started.” Dropping his pillow, he grabbed her by the waist.

  He wrestled her onto her back. She struggled to get away from him. He wondered if she was ticklish. He stroked her side.

  “What are you doing?” She froze.

  “I’m tickling you.”

  “Oh, no.” She squirmed.

  He played across her body to see where she was ticklish. She looked very uneasy as she turned red. He had a good idea of where to tickle her and was going to have some fun.

  “What’s wrong?” He grinned. “Is something bothering you?”

  His tickling made her scream with laughter. He stopped. She relaxed. She thought he was going to kiss her. He tickled her again and he wasn’t going to stop this time. Laughing, she struggled to get away from him. He found a spot on the underside of her knee. She shrieked, collapsing onto the bed and panting heavily. He changed the tickle spot. She shrieked when he went back to her knee.

  “Oh, Duncan. Please, I give. I give,” she gasped.

  “You won the pillow fight, but I won the tickle fight.” He breathed into her ear.

  She nodded. He kissed her deeply, placing his hand between her knees. He was nudging them apart when she stopped him.

  “No,” she whispered.

  His eyebrows furrowed, confused. He sat back on his buttocks. He wasn’t going to force himself on her. She placed her fingers on his lips to shush him. She pulled off his shirt. She ran her fingers down his chest. She kissed him and slipped off his underwear. She gently pushed him down until he reclined against the pillows.

  “Oh,” he whispered.

  She nodded. She massaged down his chest to below his belly button. Groaning, he nibbled her lips. She slipped off her shirt, panties and bra. She straddled him. With a slight thrust, he was inside her. She moved her hips up and down while leaning forward to kiss him. Eyes closed, his hands went to her hips. He gripped her tightly and helped her thrust. Between the excitement of the pillow and tickle fights, he was losing control.

  He roughly rubbed her breasts and pinched her nipples. Her back arched. He massaged between her legs as her thrusts became faster and wilder. She watched the passion on his face. She wanted to please him. Suddenly, he grabbed her hips and grunted. A wave of pleasure came over him. She went rigid and threw back her head. As she buckled forward, he stopped her from falling. She exhaled raspy breaths. He cradled her, lowering her next to him.

  “Happy birthday weekend,” she whispered, exhausted.

  He kissed her on the forehead. “Thank you.”

  He pulled the blanket over them. She was fast asleep. He held her in his arms. He hoped she would like his plan. If she didn’t like surprises, then he was going to tell her the truth. A little while later, he woke up. He had a bad feeling, but couldn’t figure out what was wrong. He shrugged it off and cuddled closer to her. His time with her was almost over. He needed to feed her and send her home. He froze.

  “Oh, no,” he grimaced.

  He untangled himself from her and threw on his pajamas. He padded down to the kitchen to check the refrigerator. He hung his head and sighed. He closed the refrigerator door to find her standing there, sleepy and sexy in his t-shirt.

  “Why did you disappear?” she asked, stretching tantalizingly.

  “I promised I would feed you. I don’t have any breakfast food. You go back to sleep. I’ll run to the store. I’ll be right back.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I have a better idea. Let’s take a shower. Correction, showers! Don’t give me that look, Mr. Mischievous. We’ll go to my house and I’ll make you breakfast. Can I borrow a towel? And a new shirt?”

  He held her hand, leading her back upstairs. “Do you want to use my bathroom or the guest bathroom?”

  “Can we take showers at the same time? Earth to Duncan, come in Duncan. Separate showers. Oh boy, you’re bad.” She snapped her fingers.

  Shaking his head, he cleared his throat. “Yes, we can take separate showers at the same time. There’s enough hot water. I’ll be thinking of you the whole time.”

  “Duncan!” she giggled. “A towel and a shirt, please. The weekend is young, sir. Mind out of the gutter, at least for now.”

  He handed her a towel. She headed for the guest bathroom. He placed a soft, deep blue t-shirt on the bed. She turned back.

  She blushed. “May I come back here to get dressed? Or should I take my things into the bathroom with me?”

  He crossed the floor in quick strides. He held her face and kissed her.

  “This is your bedroom too, Meara. Take your shower and get dressed in here. Understood?” He watched her carefully.

  Her eyes teared up. “Understood.”

  Showering quickly, she wrapped the towel around her body and returned to the bedroom. He was still in the shower. She dressed, wearing his shirt with her pants. She turned down the blankets and fluffed the pillows on the bed. Coming out of the bathroom, he had a towel around his waist. He shook his head when he saw her tidying up.

  “You don’t have to do that.” He caught her off-guard.

  Turning around to look at him, she caught her breath as she checked him out from head to toe. She couldn’t help herself. He felt self-conscious, but the desire in her eyes pleased him. If he made a move towards her, they would wind up in bed again. It was not an unpleasant thought. He shook his head to clear his mind. He had to talk to her about his plan very soon. He pulled clothes together.

  Like a deer in headlights, she sat on the afghan at the foot of the bed. He wasn’t sure what to do. He was a private person, but not a shy person. He loved her, had made love with her, and was sharing his life with her. Getting dressed in front of her shouldn’t be an issue, but her red face and shallow breathing said it was. He had to put her at ease.

  “Should I leave?” she squeaked.

  “No, but if you keep looking at me like that, we’re not getting out of here today. Close your eyes and talk to me.”

  She closed her eyes and exhaled. “Good idea. What do you want to do this weekend?”

  He dressed quickly. “It’s interesting you should ask. I have a surprise for you. Diana tells me you don’t like surprises, so I’m going to be honest with you.”

  “I’m listening.” She raised an eyebrow, but kept her eyes shut.

  “Our time together has been wonderful. I would like the rest of my birthday weekend to be just as romantic. I called my friend Mike to borrow his Shore house this weekend. I asked Diana if we could switch today’s rescheduled dinner to a lunch. We can leave this afternoon and have almost two days at the Shore house. What do you think?” He waited for her reaction.
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  Hanging her head, she nervously weaved her fingers into the afghan. “What expectations would you have?”

  He lifted her chin. Her eyes were still closed. He touched her face softly. She smiled.

  “Absolutely none. There are several bedrooms. We don’t have to share one. We can take walks on the beach and swim. We can talk and eat. We can cuddle together and read a book. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. Just be with me. What do you say?”

  Opening her eyes, she said shyly, “I’ll have to pack a bag.”

  He looked sheepish. “I have a confession to make. Diana’s getting your things together. I asked her yesterday.”

  She smiled. “You’ve been nothing but kind and loving to me. You wanted to surprise me. Who am I to complain? This is a wonderful weekend so far and if it’s possible, it’s getting even better. I should be asking you how I can make you happy. It’s your birthday we’re celebrating.”

  “Don’t change a thing. You’ve made me feel more alive than I’ve ever felt before. I should be thanking you.”

  “You’ve thanked me enough for one twenty-four hour period,” she blushed. “I hope we can be thankful again sometime this weekend.”

  “Your wish is my command, Lady Meara,” he bowed. “Let’s get going. Diana will be wondering where you are.”

  “Is it true you don’t have breakfast?” she asked.

  “Unfortunately, that was not part of the plan, but it’s working in our favor. Maybe we could have a birthday brunch?” he grinned.

  “We’ll see what Diana has to say when we get there. Do you have a bag packed?”

  “No, I’ll throw something together. Should I bring a suit in case I want to take you out to a fancy restaurant?”

  “Why don’t we save that for next time? Pick out comfortable clothes. Do you have shorts?”

  “No.” He made a mental note to buy shorts.

  The sound of the house phone ringing surprised them both. He checked, sighing.

  “It’s Sean.” He rolled his eyes.

  “Answer it. I’ll get your clothes together. Go!”

  He kissed her. “I’m so lucky. Good morning, Sean! I’m surprised you’re up this early. Thank you, it was a good birthday.”