Made To Love

by S. M. West

  Olivia

  “No, I don’t want the chartreuse. My first choice is slate; my second is aubergine,” I implore as I fondle the square patch of suede material.

  Seriously, I’m loving these colors. I’m like a junkie with fabric swatches and paint chips, I could spend hours discovering shades and textures. I listen as Alfonso, one of my best furniture suppliers, tells me he’ll see what he can do.

  “Al, I really need you to come through. It’s a huge order. I need this,” I plea, stilling my voice at the sound of footsteps stomping up the stairs. I’m holed up in my office and don’t have a line of sight to my stairs. Who the hell is in my house?

  Gripping the phone like my life depends on it—and it just might—I hiss, “Shhh, Al, listen, someone’s in my house.” Tiptoeing toward the open door, I whisper, “If I scream, hang up and call 911.”

  I peer around the corner and a head of light brown hair comes into view, followed by the handsome face of Drew. A nervous laugh escapes my lips as relief floods my body.

  “Mom,” he calls at the top of the stairs, quizzically looking at my upper body curled around the door frame.

  Another sharp laugh leaves my mouth and I relax. “Al, it’s Drew. Can I call you back?” Al also chuckles and agrees to speak with me tomorrow.

  Drew has a large suitcase in one hand and his hockey bag in the other. “Hi honey,” I reply, stepping fully into the hallway. “What’s up? What’s with the bags?”

  Drew drops his things, walks over to me, and wraps his arms around me in a hug. “I’m staying here for the summer, if that’s okay?”

  “What? Of course, this is your home, but why? I thought you were going to stick to the schedule for the summer, staying with your dad when Paige was there, then with me.”

  He shrugs, lugging his bags into his room. Following, I wait patiently for further explanation. Drew plops onto his bed, gazing contemplatively at me. On an exhale, he runs his hands through his already ruffled hair.

  “Here’s closer to work.”

  Placing my hands on my hips, I challenge, “Drew, I’m literally three streets down from your dad. We’re practically the same distance from the site. Tell me what’s going on.”

  He’s spent all his summers during high school working for his Uncle John, Pete’s brother, who owns a construction company. It’s good money, plus he gets a tan and a daily workout. This will be his last summer at the site before he switches gears, putting his time in at law firms and focusing on his career.

  His eyes narrow and lips purse as he looks away. “Fine, if it’s a problem, I’ll crash with Ken.”

  “Hey, it’s not a problem. Never. This is your home and you don’t ever have to ask to stay here, but something’s up and I want to know what. Did something happen with your dad?”

  If he won’t tell me, I’m going to have to ask Pete. I haven’t been avoiding my ex, but I have been limiting our contact given his dogged pursuit of me. He’s even taken to using the kids as an excuse to contact me, and since I’ve ignored his texts and calls to have coffee, dinner, or anything, he’s now taken to emailing my work address.

  “Mom, I’d rather not get into it. Let’s just say Dad knows I’m here and he’s fine with it.”

  My son is as easygoing as they come. Nothing bothers him. Whatever this is, it’s big, and if my mom-radar is still working, Pete is at the very center of it all. I’m going to have to talk to him.

  “Fine, but D-man, you know I’m here and will listen whenever you want,” I say. “You’re always welcome here, and if you change your mind, no harm, no foul.”

  “Thanks Mom.”

  “Does Paige know?”

  “Nah, I’ve gotta tell her. She’s gonna go all diva on me, I just know it.”

  Chuckling, I ruffle his hair before placing a light kiss on his forehead. “Yup, she most likely will. She won’t say this to you, but she’s missed you. She’s been looking forward to you coming home. She’s been having a tough time and could use her big bro.”

  Drew eyes me, likely looking for signs of distress. He is aware of how bumpy the ride has been for me where Paige is concerned, and he’d like nothing better than to fix it. He’s tried even though I’ve told him it is not for him to fix. “Mom, do you need me to talk to her?”

  “No, I don’t. We’re getting there. This is about you. Your sister loves you and she’s been dealing with a lot of change this year. She could use someone to hang out with, and also fight with.” My wry smile causes Drew to laugh, nodding in understanding.

  “Look, I’m heading to Jonah’s right now, and then I’m grabbing dinner at the Bow. If I’d known you were going to be here, I would have done some grocery shopping. We could have had dinner here. Why don’t you meet me at the Bow?”

  “Sure.”

  “Okay, see you at seven. Aunt Sin will be there, and she’ll be thrilled to see you.”

  “Cool.” The doorbell rings.

  “Can you get that? I’m going to grab my bag and I’ll be down.” Drew nods and heads downstairs.

  As I grab a change of clothes, the rift between Pete and Drew nags at me. I have no clue what it could be about. We were all together two weeks ago when Drew came home for the summer, and everything was fine. Drew was adamant about sticking to the schedule with Paige so he could spend time with both of his parents; what changed between then and now to make him not want to spend time with his father?

  “Mom,” Drew calls, coming into my view as I descend the stairs.

  “Coming. Who is it?”

  Drew steps aside, allowing me to pass, but says nothing. His curious look has me both intrigued and anxious.

  Sam. It’s Sam, looking delectable with his big smile, dimples and all, directed at me. He’s sex-on-a-stick, and I finally understand the meaning of that phrase. I quickly glance over at Drew where he’s curiously examining me, arms crossed.

  “Sam.” I step closer to the foyer, but not too close. I want to hug him, kiss him, but Drew is here, so keeping my distance is my safest bet.

  “Olivia, hi.” Sam’s gravelly voice sends shivers down my spine. “It’s good to see you.”

  “Ah…you too.” Waving my hand in Drew’s direction, I say, “Drew, this is my friend Sam. Sam, this is my son, Drew.”

  “We’ve met,” they say in unison. Drew uncrosses his arms and steps to stand beside me. My heart rapidly beats against my ribcage and I fear I won’t be able to hear anything else, the pounding is deafening.

  “Mom, I’m going to unpack. I’ll see you later.” Taking my hand, he gently tugs it in comfort before looking back at Sam. “Nice to meet you, man.”

  “You too, Drew.” Sam dons another panty-melting smile, tipping his chin at Drew.

  Silently staring at each other, we both wait for Drew to leave, waiting a few extra seconds to make sure he’s fully up the stairs.

  “Hi.” My voice is breathy and small, my throat dry.

  “Hey, how are you?” he asks, moving so his hand can cup my jaw before he leans down to kiss me.

  The moment his mouth touches mine, the thrashing of my heart drowns out all other sound, like waves crashing on the shore. My toes curl and my belly flutters.

  “Damn, I’ve been dreaming about that since the hotel,” he whispers. “The real thing is so much better than my imagination.”

  “S-Sam, what are you doing here?” As soon as the words leave my mouth, my appalling tone hits me and likely him. “That wasn’t how I meant it,” I rush to say.

  Sam shakes, chuckling at my blunder. “I missed you. I wanted to see you.”

  “You should have called,” I add, again realizing how horrible my words and frantic tone sound.

  “I wanted to surprise you.”

  “You can’t stay here,” I blurt out, heaping on another faux pas. I wince and Sam grins before his finger sweeps a stray hair behind my ear.

  “As much as I want to, I wasn’t expecting to stay over. I have a hotel room.”

  His response lesse
ns my anxiety for a millisecond, then I’m sucked back into my chaotic thoughts.

  “I’m sorry. I’m messing this up. Drew’s here.” Great, I’m now an incoherent idiot.

  “You don’t need to explain. I get it. I thought I’d surprise you. It seemed like a good idea at the time. I now see I was wrong, won’t happen again. It’s all good.”

  Inhaling deeply, my nerves somewhat settle. His pale eyes are tender and his sweet smile draws me in. We’re gazing into each other’s eyes when the thundering of Drew’s feet descending the stairs breaks our trance. As we both step back, we’re close. “I’m on my way to work out. If I skip it, Jonah will hunt me down and torture me with double the workout.”

  “Can I come? I could use a workout.”

  Drew’s now surveying both of us with curiosity and something close to enjoyment. “Sam, you want anything to drink?” he asks, turning toward the kitchen.

  “Ah, no thanks, Drew. I’m going to work out with your mom,” he replies, talking like they’re old buddies. Stupidly gazing at him, I remain mute as Sam opens his bag and fishes out running shoes, shorts, and a tank top. “Where can I change?”

  I’m still dumbfounded, not registering a word he’s saying. Drew answers from behind me, “The bathroom’s right here.”

  Sam tips his chin in understanding, rises to his full height, and strides in the direction Drew indicated.

  With him gone, I manage to snap out of my ridiculous dreamlike stupor, finally coming to my senses. Without taking his eyes off me, Drew gives me a lopsided grin, making his face even more adorable. Glowering for him to keep quiet, I grab my purse.

  The thought of taking Sam to Jonah’s feels like a stone sitting heavy in my gut. I have no clue what I’m going to say to him. One look at Sam and it’ll be the Spanish Inquisition. It’s obvious Drew already expects more details as to who Sam is, but the only thing I know is that I’m not ready to put words to this, to what I’m doing with Sam. Truth be told, I have no clue what we’re doing.

  Our drive to Jonah’s is comfortable and easy, despite my nerves. I just know my personal trainer and friend—a label he makes me question all the time—is going to do something. As we walk to the door, trepidation floods my body. Jonah’s eager to set me up with someone and now, I’m bringing a man here.

  Jonah is as giddy as a child at Disney World when I introduce him to Sam. I provide no explanation, but by the look he gives us, Jonah clearly thinks he knows it all.

  “So, Sam, what kind of workout do you normally do when you’re not slaving away in the kitchen?”

  How’d he know Sam was a chef? Sin must have told him. Traitor.

  “I do a bit of everything—cycling, swimming, running,” Sam responds. Of course he’d be the next Iron Man. Biting my lip to prevent myself from saying something sassy, I lace up my shoes, head down, focused on calming my nerves. I wonder if pretending to be somewhere else will get me through this; this is going to be a whole new level of torture.

  Jonah claps his hands twice to get our attention and plasters on his devilish grin. “Great, I know just the routine for today.” Leading us over to the treadmill, he states, “To maximize our time, we’ll do some high-intensity interval training with short, intense bursts of exercise and active recovery.”

  Without even thinking, I groan loudly and protest, “Jonah, we did that two days ago.”

  I hate this routine and he knows it; something tells me that’s why we’re doing it. Why not let Sam see me at my worst? Jonah is going to die a painful, horrible death—if I make it out of here alive. High-intensity interval training is brutal and wipes me out every time.

  Sam chuckles, but quickly schools his features once he sees my scowl. “It’s not that bad, honey,” Jonah quips, readying the treadmill. “You’ll thank me later.”

  Very unlikely.

  Jonah deliberately pushes me on the parts of my routine I hate and suck at. He leaves me wanting to inflict pain and wipe off his playful smile. Sam is the complete opposite, nothing if not supportive and encouraging. At times, I find myself resenting him too, feeling weak among these two strong, capable men even though I know I’m strong.

  One agonizing hour and two outbursts later, I’m a sweaty, wet noodle and Sam looks like a drink of water in the desert. Even with perspiration beading on his brow and his dark hair matted against his scalp, he’s magnificent.

  At some point during our workout, Sam whips off his shirt. I almost fall flat on my face, my steps faltering on the treadmill at the vision of hotness before me. Jonah emits a deep belly laugh while helping me right myself on the death contraption. I don’t know why I ever thought he was my friend. He’s the devil incarnate.

  From that point on, I’ve lost my game. I stumble through the rest of our workout, unable to successfully tear my eyes away from Sam’s sculpted back, defined arms, and rock-hard six-pack—and damn, I nearly choke on my own saliva at his tattoos.

  They’re eye-catching. One on his left pec looks like a cabbage, although it could also be a heart, and a few lines of black script run across the side of his ribcage. Try as I might, I can’t make out the words. Short of wrestling him to the ground and straddling him, I’ll have to wait to find out what the words are.

  As beautiful as they are, an uneasiness settles in the pit of my stomach. His tattoos remind me of our age difference more than ever. We are seven years apart. His body art screams young and carefree, while I am older, responsible. I’m a mother. I have two teenage children, one legally an adult. What the hell am I doing?

  The easy banter and laughter between Jonah and Sam snaps me out of my troublesome thoughts. There’s nothing I can do about it. They’re getting along well, both downing Gatorade and joking about something. Not only do they both make working out look like sun-tanning—effortless, nonchalant—they also share similar tastes. With our session finally over, I shower and change, leaving Sam and Jonah to yuk it up and bond some more.

  When I return, Jonah is alone, and his small smile grows at the sight of me. “So, you and Sam are dating?” he asks, always one to get straight to the point.

  “I wouldn’t call it dating. We’re just enjoying each other’s company. It’s casual,” I reply disinterestedly.

  “Casual?” He snorts. “So casual that the guy flies out here to see you just because.”

  “He said he was coming anyway,” I say, rushing to squash whatever it is he’s implying.

  “Really?” he volleys sarcastically. “Sam’s thirty-five.” His monotone voice contradicts the twinkling mischief in his eyes and his smug smirk that I want to wipe off his handsome face.

  Grrr, he riles me like a sibling, although I don’t know if this is how a brother would piss me off because I’m an only child. Now I’m aggravated at the possibilities of what Jonah grilled Sam about. What the hell did he ask him while I was gone? How the hell did he find out his age? And more importantly, what the hell did he tell Sam about me?

  “Jonah, shut it.”

  “I’m only asking because I seem to recall that was your reasoning for not meeting Brad.”

  He leaves that hanging in the air as I battle to keep my face from flaming red. I’m not at all thrilled by him calling me out on this. I wish I had something witty to say or something sharp to throw at him, but I’m all out. I’m a fool because he’s right, and I am doing exactly what I thought I’d never do. I fold my arms, staring him down, and we remain silent.

  Sensing I’m not going to respond, or maybe feeling uncomfortable in the deafening quiet, Jonah says, “Sam tells me you’re going to the Bow for dinner. I’m going to join you.”

  I smile. “Sure.” Jonah raises his brow, clearly expecting a fight. “Let me text Sin and Drew to let them know we’re on our way.”

  “Great. I’m just waiting on Millie so I can let her know she can go home.”

  “How is Millie?” I ask pointedly. Jonah squints, his features harsh, as both Millie and Sam join us.

  Jonah does the introductions and b
efore we know it, Millie is talking animatedly with Sam about cooking and restaurants. No surprise, like most women upon meeting Sam, she slips into admirer mode before Jonah can get a word in edgewise. I’m amused as Jonah sulks because his personal chef fawns all over Sam.

  “Millie, we’re going out, so I won’t need dinner tonight, thank you,” Jonah interjects the first chance he gets.

  Millie whirls to face him, blushing like a young school girl caught ogling her teacher. “Oh, okay.” Her voice is almost a whisper with a hint of disappointment.

  “Why don’t you join us?” I pipe up, not sure where that came from other than the fact that it will make Jonah uncomfortable. What goes around comes around, bro. Sure enough, Jonah glares at me, his lips tight.

  “Ah, are you sure?” Millie asks, uncertain.

  “Absolutely,” I reply as Sam says, “Of course.” Jonah’s none too happy and stays silent as we pile into my car.

  On the drive, Sam and Millie continue their love fest while Jonah sits in the front next to me. He mumbles something about me being careful what I ask for and at first, I have no clue what he means, but it soon becomes apparent as Sam and Millie are in their own world. They’re sharing tales about culinary school and recipes, and Sam regales her with stories of chefs he’s met, neither engaging Jonah or I in conversation. While I wouldn’t say I’m jealous, I certainly don’t like it. Not one bit.

  Sam

  The Bow is your typical Irish pub with dark furniture and lighting, booths, TV screens, and great beer on tap. We’re ushered through the busy dining room to a booth in the back where Sin and Drew are already seated, their eyes tracking the movement of our small group as we near their table. Olivia’s leading the pack and I’m at the rear, behind Millie.

  I’m not sure how I’m going to work it, but I must sit beside Olivia. While our workout was good and I enjoyed getting to know Jonah, I’ve hardly spent any time alone with her. I’d hoped we would drive together, alone, to the restaurant, but unfortunately that was not meant to be.

  Millie guided me into the back seat and monopolized my time. She’s a nice woman and I was more than happy to talk shop with her. Still, Olivia is the reason I’m here. She’s the one I want to spend time with. Now we’re going to be seated with her friends and son. I don’t see much alone time in our near future.