by Claire Adams
“I wouldn't have asked if I thought it was a bad idea,” Olivia said, sounding confused.
“Not about the wedding, but about...us,” I said slowly. I didn't know how to say it to her, but I wasn't planning on playing around with her. If we did anything, it was going to be serious.
“I want there to be an 'us,'” Olivia told me frankly. “But that's up to you to decide, Eric.” She sighed. “Could you try to let me know by the end of the weekend if you're okay with this?”
“I'll let you know,” I agreed. There wasn't anything else I could do.
“All right,” Olivia said. “Have a good night.”
She hung up almost before I could respond.
Chapter Twelve
Olivia
I didn't know what to do about the Eric situation. I knew that he was still upset about his wife's death; that much was obvious. But we'd shared a night of passion like I'd never experienced before. This wasn't Hollywood, and I knew that where feelings were involved, things could happen. I had never gone home with someone after a first date before, and I had never experienced feelings like this. Heck, I'd started the evening unsure if it really was a date or not.
Once he'd admitted that I was the first person he'd slept with since his former wife, I'd known that we were delving into a whole set of baggage. I'd expected there might be weirdness afterward. But I guess I hadn't expected him to just avoid me like that. We were both adults, for crying out loud; surely we could deal reasonably with whatever the situation was. Just talk about things.
And to keep Emma away from me as well, I don't know. That just seemed excessive. When he'd called on Thursday morning to say that she would be staying with her Nana for the day, I'd been surprised, but I'd taken it in stride. When he hadn't shown up on Friday as well, I started to get worried. What if he regretted what we'd done? What if I never saw him again, outside of a professional setting where he was Dr. Jones, and my mother was his patient?
Maybe Emma really was sick. But there was no conviction there.
The truth of the matter was, Eric was coming across a little wishy-washy. Maybe I was just blowing things out of proportion, but I had to wonder if he’d even consider accepting my invitation to have him as a plus-one. I probably shouldn't have asked about it in the first place, but I did want him to be there, both to keep me company and because I could only imagine how sexy he would look in a suit and tie.
That said, we'd only been on one official date. Playing the plus-one card now was a risk. A lot could change in a month. For all I knew, he'd decide that he still wasn't ready for something serious, after losing his previous wife. Or else, I might decide that I couldn't live in Tamlin any longer and wanted to move back to Chicago. Or anything in between.
I sighed and shook my head. I needed a distraction, or I was going to sit here all afternoon worrying myself sick over what he might say. For all I knew, he wouldn't get back to me until tomorrow, anyway. I'd given him until the end of the weekend, after all.
I decided to head over to Mom's house and see what she was up to. The weather was nice that day, and I had a feeling she was probably outside in the garden. Not that there was much left to do. We'd plucked most of the weeds the last time I was over there. Still, I could do with a little sunshine, and I was sure she could as well. That had always been one of her main complaints when we'd lived in the city: hanging out on the roof to enjoy the sun just wasn't the same as hanging out in your backyard.
When I got to Mom's house, though, it wasn't her that I found out in the garden. Instead, there was a young man there, about my age, with a friendly face. He was large and built, and he was currently hacking away at a blackberry bramble, his muscles bulging with every movement of the saw.
He looked over at me as my shadow fell at his feet.
“Hi,” I said hesitantly as I stepped forward, holding out a hand. “I'm Olivia Sable. My mom lives here?”
“Olivia, I was wondering when I'd have the pleasure of meeting you,” the man said smoothly, shaking my hand in a warm, calloused grip. “I'm Buck. Well, Barclay. Barclay Johanssen. But no one calls me that!”
“Buck,” I said, rolling the name around in my mouth. “Nice to meet you.”
“Pleasure's all mine,” Buck said in a charming, twangy drawl. He gestured toward the brambles. “I come by and do some yard work for your mom, from time to time.”
“Oh!” I said. “That makes sense.” I struggled to find something else to say. Fortunately, Mom came down off the porch just then, a pitcher of lemonade in one hand and glasses in the other.
“Figured you could use some refreshment,” she said to Buck. “Olivia, it's good to see you too!”
“Hey, Mom,” I said, smiling at her.
Mom held up the pitcher. “I grabbed a glass for you too, sweetie, when I saw you coming up the drive. I'm sure we all could use a drink on a day like today!”
“It sure is humid,” Buck agreed, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Summer is definitely on its way!”
“Mm, I'm excited for a good summer,” I said, looking toward the sky as though the clouds might signal when the summer would begin. “In Chicago, it always gets so stuffy during the summer. But out here, it's beautiful.”
“Sure is,” Mom agreed. She turned to Buck and handed him a glass of lemonade. “Do you have any plans for the summer, Buck?”
“We have a family reunion coming up in August,” Buck said, frowning. “I'll have to head down to Texas for that. But otherwise, I'm hoping to just get up to the lake a couple of times. Go camping, maybe.”
“Sounds fun,” Mom said. “What about you, Olivia?”
I shook my head. “Not up to much,” I said. “Just running the daycare, the usual.” I grinned. “I'd like to go camping at some point too; it's been ages since I did that.”
“Well, if you're ever interested, I could take you some time,” Buck offered politely. “I know all the best spots in the area if you even just want to talk about it.”
I smiled at him. “I appreciate that,” I told him. “We'll see what the summer holds.”
Mom smiled between the two of us.
“I'm going to try to get this bramble out before it gets too hot,” Buck told us, finishing his drink and gesturing toward the saw. “But thanks for the lemonade, Mrs. Sable.”
“How many times do I have to ask you to call me Jeannie?” Mom said, smiling broadly. She grabbed our glasses and started back inside the house, and I trailed after her.
In the kitchen, I leaned against the counter, watching as she started washing the glasses and the couple other dishes that had been used that day.
“Have you talked to Dr. Jones at all?” I finally asked. I didn't want to spoil her good mood. I had to wonder if asking her about the chemo when she was in such a good mood might do the trick. Maybe she'd be more open to what I had to say.
I knew it didn't work that way, but it was worth a shot.
Mom groaned and shook her head. “Is that what you came over here to talk about?” she asked. “To pester me about, rather.”
“I have some money saved up,” I said quietly. “I know it might not cover everything, but it would at least pay for some of your medical treatments. Enough to get you started, while we figure this whole thing out.”
“I can't ask you to do that,” Mom protested. “You've worked hard to save up money over the years. You ought to be putting that money toward a good vacation. Or a wedding, maybe?”
I laughed. “No wedding on the horizon just yet,” I told her. “Or at least, not mine.” I frowned, thinking again about Eric, wondering if he would take me up on that invitation.
Mom sighed. “Is it too much to ask for my only daughter to have a nice wedding soon? I'm looking forward to having grandchildren, you know. Preferably while I'm still able to chase after them.”
I grinned. “I'm working on it,” I said, even though I knew I shouldn't have as soon as the words were out of my mouth.
“You're working on it, are
you?” Mom asked shrewdly.
“Eric and I had dinner again the other night, nothing big,” I mumbled.
“I hope you didn't waste all your time talking about me and my health again!” Mom said. Her eyes softened. “You know, I've been feeling fine, Livy. I've started drinking three cups of ginger tea every day, and the pain is nearly gone! Ginger works such miracles on the human body.”
“That's great, Mom, but aren't you worried that you're just putting a bandage on things? Dr. Jones said that things were getting worse. Maybe you should get checked out again, just in case.”
“I'm fine,” Mom repeated.
“But the chemotherapy treatments, you should start them right away,” I said. “That's what Dr. Jones said.”
“Hush, Livy,” Mom said, her voice surprisingly sharp. I flinched, hardly able to remember the last time that she'd talked to me like that. She took a deep breath, and from the way her eyes slipped closed for a moment, I could tell that she was counting to 10. “I don't need to be bossed around by my daughter,” she said when she spoke again.
“I'm not trying to boss you around,” I said, shaking my head. “I just do wish that you'd at least consider listening to Dr. Jones on this one. He had the education and the tests to back up what he's saying. I'm worried about you.”
“I know that,” Mom said. “And like I've said, I appreciate that.” She scrubbed vigorously at a plate and then nodded toward the island in the center of the kitchen. “Would you mind taking that 20 out to Buck as you leave? Thanks.”
I frowned, hating that she was practically asking me to leave already. Was that how it would be between us? I showed that I was worried about her, and she pushed me away? I hated the thought of that. I didn't know how to proceed with her, how to get her to see reason. And now, I had a feeling that the next time I saw Eric, we weren't going to be talking about my mother's health, either. I frowned, wondering if I had burned a very critical bridge by going out with Eric on Wednesday night.
For now, I'd have to accept that that's the way things were. I nodded at Mom. “Have a good day,” I told her, grabbing the money that she'd indicated.
“You too,” Mom said.
I paused by the back door, listening to her whistle one of her favorite songs. If I could only figure out how to get through to her!
I shook my head and headed back into the Illinois heat.
Chapter Thirteen
Eric
It had been almost a week since our first date, and although I didn't want to say that I was missing Olivia, I kind of was. I had seen her the previous day when I'd dropped off Emma for daycare and again when I'd picked her up. And I'd seen her that morning as well. But I wanted more than those two-minute interactions with Emma there in the background. I didn't know how to approach the subject, though.
On Tuesday evening, when I stopped by to pick up Emma, no one answered my knock on the front door of the house. If I listened carefully, I realized I could hear Emma's excited laughter coming from the backyard, and I smiled to myself, making my way around the house. Sure enough, there were the two of them, playing with a bubble machine.
As I watched, Emma squealed and chased after some of the escaping bubbles, popping as many as she could. Her grin was a mile wide, and Olivia looked amused as well, a cute little smile on her face.
I couldn't take it anymore, I decided. I marched straight up to her and caught her arm, pulling her around the house, where Emma wouldn't see. “What are you—” Olivia began breathlessly, but I cut her off with a kiss.
The kiss was positively filthy, full of pent-up desire and nervousness. Our lips were hot where they pressed against one another's, and when I nibbled at Olivia's lower lip, she moaned shamelessly and opened her mouth to me. I wasted no time in delving my tongue inside, eliciting sweet little whimpers as I found the tender spots.
When we broke apart, Olivia had a glazed look in her eyes. “Hi,” she whispered breathlessly.
“Hi,” I echoed, pulling her into my arms, my hand cradling the back of her head. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I want to go to dinner with you tonight,” I told her, staring seriously down into her eyes. “That is, if you're free.”
Olivia stared up at me for a moment, a question in her eyes, but then she nodded. “Okay,” she said. “Harlan's still here; his mom is picking him up late today. But I should be free in an hour or so?”
“Sounds good,” I said.
“Let's go back to the Italian place,” Olivia suggested. “I already know where it is so I can drive myself there. That way, you don't have to drive all the way back over here to pick me up.”
“The town isn't that big,” I protested, but the added benefit of not picking her up, I realized, was that none of the neighbors would see me swing by, pick up Emma, leave, and then return to pick up Olivia for our date. “I'll see you there. Around 6:30?”
“That's perfect,” Olivia breathed. She bit her lower lip uncertainly, glancing back toward where Emma's giggles could still be heard. “We should get back,” she sighed.
“I know,” I groaned, unable to resist the urge to pull her hips against mine for a moment. I was already hard and wanting, and it was going to be hell getting through the whole night sat across from her. But there wasn't anything I could do about that; it wasn't as though I could take her right then and there.
Finally, I had to release her. “Later,” Olivia said.
I nodded my head in agreement and went to convince Emma that playtime was over for the day at the daycare, but that it was time to drive over to Nana's house.
I was the first one to the restaurant, and I waited impatiently in a secluded booth at the back for Olivia to show up. When she finally did, she looked positively radiant in a soft, red cotton dress and black heels, with her hair cascading down her back.
To my surprise, she slid into the same side of the booth as me. “This way, we can share our plates,” she said. Then, she looked sheepish. “If that's okay with you, that is.”
“That's fine,” I said faintly. I actually kind of liked it, having her there beside me, our legs pressed against one another's.
As we enjoyed our meal, stealing little bites off one another's plates, I placed my hand on Olivia's thigh. “So you've been living in Chicago?” I asked, trying to be nonchalant.
“Yeah,” Olivia said. She frowned. “I really moved back because of Mom. Because of the cancer. I knew that things had to be more severe than she was letting on.”
“Any luck talking to her about that?” I asked, even though I didn't want to mix business with pleasure. I hoped Olivia didn't think that the only reason I'd asked her to come to dinner with me that night was that I wanted to talk further about her mother's health situation.
But from the way I could feel her shifting her hips needfully at the way my hand was resting on her thigh, I could tell that she was turned on and thinking more about sex than medicine.
“I tried to talk to her about it, but she says it's a closed topic of conversation,” Olivia sighed. “I honestly don't know how to proceed from here. Maybe it would be better if you talked to her.”
“You're her daughter,” I reminded her. “I'm sure you'll figure something out. For all my talk of things needing to happen right away, you do have a little time to figure things out.” It was a lie, but I didn't want her to get stressed out and start crying again. I wanted her to enjoy this just as much as I was.
Fortunately, Olivia seemed keen to drop that topic of conversation. “I'm happy to be in Tamlin, though,” she said. “I didn't realize how stressed out I'd gotten, working in Chicago. Things just move so fast-paced there. I've lived there for most of my life, but it just started to get a little overwhelming. I can see why Mom was so happy to move back here.”
“Move back here?” I asked.
“She was born here, and she lived here for part of her childhood,” Olivia told me. “That's why she knows nearly everyone in town already. But it's been a while since she was back.”<
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“What about your dad?” I knew I shouldn't pry, but I was curious.
Olivia shrugged. “It's been just Mom and I, for as long as I can remember,” she said.
“Single parenthood,” I commented, nodding my head. “I know a thing or two about that.”
Olivia smiled and put a hand on my thigh as well, and it was only then, when she did that, that I realized my hand had been creeping dangerously high on her own leg. I blushed a little and started to retract my hand, but then I checked myself. She didn't appear to mind: if she had minded, I had a feeling she would have been very upfront with me. Instead, she almost seemed to be making this into a challenge.
I smiled to myself and dragged the pads of my fingers along her smooth flesh for a moment, hearing her breath hitch in response.
She forged gamely ahead. “So what do you do, anyway?” she asked. “When you're not off being a doctor or a dad, or dragging poor, unassuming women off to terrible performing arts shows.”
I laughed. “Hobbies,” I said. I grimaced. “To be honest, I don't know that I've had many hobbies since Emma was born. It feels like every spare moment I have has been with her. At least, until I'm utterly exhausted, but by then, she's usually in bed, and it's nighttime, and all I have the energy to do is put on a movie and fall asleep.”
“What kinds of movies do you like?” Olivia pressed.
“Don't laugh, but I kind of like cheesy romances,” I admitted. “And classics, I love a good black and white film. Anything that doesn't require me to focus on it.”
Olivia hummed an agreement. “Those kinds of movies are the best,” she said. She paused. “Maybe we should go out to the movies sometime. I haven't been in ages; it's so expensive in Chicago. But Mom said the theater here does decent matinees.”
“They do,” I agreed, nodding at her. She shivered as I slid my hand higher.
“Do you want to get out of here?” she asked breathlessly.
I raised an eyebrow at her, but it wasn't as though I could hide how turned on I was. Especially not as her hand crept higher against my inseam, grazing against my member. My eyes fell shut for a moment, as I concentrated on just breathing.