by Sarah Peis
“I came to town to make sure my sister was okay. Then I stayed because I found you. The mall project just happened to come up, and since I was already here, I took it on,” he said.
“So now that the project is finished, are you going back to wherever home is?”
God, I didn’t even know where he lived. Or used to live, since technically he now lived in town.
“I’m staying here. As a matter of fact, I’m moving my office to Humptulips.”
Say what? Who in their right mind would move their office to Humptulips? It was usually the other way around.
“Where is your office at the moment?” I asked. Maybe it was in a worse place. Like Siberia.
“The primary office is in LA, but we have branches all across the US.”
Big company, then. And it must have made him money if he could afford LA prices.
“I don’t understand,” I said, more confused about what was going on than when we started this conversation. “Why would you move your office?”
“LA is too far away to commute to every day.”
“Why in the world would anyone even consider commuting?”
“Well, one would consider commuting when one wants to live in Humptulips.”
“Then one must be crazy because nobody wants to move to Humptulips. If you weren’t born here, you rarely want to live here.”
“Wrong. One would want to live here if one had a reason to.”
“And you do?”
“I see I have to once again spell it out for you. You live here. Therefore, I have a reason. The best reason, in fact. I want to be with you. Nobody else. And I can’t even tell you how sorry I am about everything. I never meant to hurt you.”
And this was another moment in my life that I would remember with absolute clarity. The moment I almost made Oliver run off the road because I reached over and grabbed his junk.
Yes, that’s correct, ladies and gentleman. I didn’t know what was going on in my head, but it seemed like a reasonable thing to do. I was so overwhelmed with what I was feeling. He willingly lost a lot of money just so he could make me happy. I couldn’t deal with the amount of feelings coursing through me at that moment. I desperately needed to show him how much his actions meant to me. And we had always had a crazy connection in the bedroom. From the first time we slept together, we clicked, something I had never experienced before.
So I asked myself what any other sane woman would do and decided to grope him. Obviously, he wasn’t expecting such a move and jerked the wheel to the side when my hand made contact.
But somehow during our conversation, I had decided that I liked everything he had told me. And I liked it so much that I had forgiven him and wanted to show him I had. And did I also mention that I was bad at expressing my feelings? And even worse with actions, as it turned out?
“Shit, beautiful, what are you doing?” he asked me once we were safely parked on the side of the road.
“I love you,” I blurted out next, pushing this moment into the category of “can never come back from it.” But at least he was likely to forget about the embarrassing groping incident. Maybe. Something like that was hard to forget.
Oliver went still, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. He put the car in first gear and stomped on the gas so hard the car fishtailed as it turned the other way. We were back on the road to Humptulips two seconds after that, and Oliver was speeding.
“Sorry. It just came out. Probably shouldn’t have said it like that.”
“You can’t take it back,” he ground out. His hands were still gripping the steering wheel, and his jaw was clenched. Did I read the signs wrong? I thought he liked me. Maybe there was even some love there. He bought a house and moved his office for me. That was bound to give a girl ideas. But I guess there was the little fact that he was engaged.
“Wasn’t going to take it back,” I grumbled but didn’t get a response.
The drive back was quiet, the only sound the roaring of the motor. I certainly wasn’t going to say anything else. Who knew what would come out of my mouth at this stage? So I stayed quiet. And my hands stayed safely folded on my lap. Oliver looked like he was ready to tear out the steering wheel, so I preferred his silence.
We made it back to his house, and he parked the car in the garage, closing the automatic door behind us. Neither of us made a move to get out of the car. As soon as the garage door was closed and we were sitting in total darkness, I felt his hand on my arm, and the next thing I knew, I was sitting in his lap. He moved his seat back as far as it would go, giving us enough room to sit somewhat comfortably in this position.
The next thing I felt was his hands taking off my dress, then moving on to my bra. Then a hot mouth was on my neck. I arched into him, wanting more, wanting it all. I reached for him and pulled his shirt up. I wished the lights were on so I could see him. I would never get enough of looking at him.
I trembled at his touch, arching into him, wanting more. It was never enough. He lifted up and his mouth found mine, the kiss deep, wet, and hard. There was an urgency to his movements I hadn’t noticed before. But I met him stroke for stroke, touch for touch.
I undid the button and zipper on his pants and slid my hands inside, caressing him. If I thought his movements were frantic before, they were desperate now. Our mouths broke apart, and we were both breathing heavily.
My hand slipped out of his pants when he sat up, and I had to hold on to the window for balance. He freed himself and settled me back down. I took full advantage of the improved access and gripped him again. He was hard and heavy in my hand, and every time I stroked him, he pushed his hips up.
His hand made its way into my panties and I ground down hard. I was quickly getting close, so close I could almost feel it. But before I could let go, he removed his hand and pushed my panties to the side.
I heard the crinkle of foil, and then I felt his hand between us. Without warning, Oliver entered me in one powerful thrust. He started moving in and out, and I met him stroke for stroke and took him as deep as he would go. My body wanted more, always more when I was with him.
The tingles started first, and the pleasure came quick and was explosive, flooding me with uncontrollable joy. He came hard inside me moments after, filling me with everything he had.
I collapsed on his chest, holding him tight and hoping this wasn’t a goodbye fuck but a hello, let’s give this relationship thing a go fuck.
He held me tight, his fingers trailing circles over my back, something I loved. And because it was Oliver, he knew, and that was why he did it.
“Sorry about that,” he said, breaking the comfortable silence we were in. “I was planning on romancing you first.”
I snuggled in deeper, loving the fact that he had lost control. “You don’t hear me complaining.”
He trailed his finger down my cheek and kissed my head. “Let’s go inside, beautiful.”
“Don’t want to move,” I said, cheek still comfortably squashed to his hard chest.
“We can go straight to bed,” he coaxed.
That got me moving, because bed meant more of Oliver. He grabbed his shirt and put it over my head. “Easier access this way. And I think I heard a tear when I ripped your dress off.”
I knew I was screwed when the thought of him ripping one of my dresses didn’t even make me flinch. Instead, I climbed off him and back into the passenger seat, feeling around for my things.
He took off the condom and put himself back together before opening his door. The interior light came on, making it easier to find what remained of my dress and stuff it into my bag. I was a trained seamstress, after all, so I could fix whatever was ripped.
I got out and met Oliver at the other side of his car. He had turned the light on, showing an empty garage. There wasn’t a single box, shelf, or dust bunny anywhere.
“Where is all your stuff?” I asked and looked around the big space.
“Inside. Why? What are
you looking for?”
“Clutter. Unpacked boxes. Tools.”
“I have a housekeeper who comes every day. I hired movers to get my stuff here, and that included unpacking all the boxes. I don’t own any tools, and the last time I held a hammer was around 2006. I missed the nail I was trying to get into the wall and made a giant hole in it instead. Thought it was safer not to use one anymore.”
I guess there was one thing Oliver wasn’t good at. Maybe he was human after all.
He led me into the mudroom, and I hesitated. Last time I was at his house, it didn’t go so well. Trying to shake the feeling, I took off my shoes and put them next to his on the shoe rack. Wouldn’t want to disturb the order and just throw them on the floor.
It felt like déjà vu when we walked past the kitchen. This time I stopped to look around, but Oliver nudged me toward the stairs. “You can explore to your heart’s content tomorrow. But how about for tonight we just order takeout?”
I was definitely down with that. And cooking sounded like a lot of effort right now. It would also take time away from other things.
“Sounds good to me,” I agreed readily.
“I’ll give you a tour in the morning. All you need to know for now is where my bed and the bathroom are.”
I followed him up the stairs and down the hall to his bedroom.
“Not to be a mood killer, but did you change your sheets?” I couldn’t help but ask.
“Bought a new bed.”
Excellent answer. I liked that he did that. And hells bells, did I like his room. King-sized bed, satin sheets if my eyes didn’t deceive me, and an attached closet and bathroom. A gigantic flat-screen TV was mounted to the wall opposite the bed, and a fireplace sat off to the other side. A glass door led to what I presumed was a balcony, but I didn’t have time to explore more because I suddenly found myself horizontal, and then my back met the softest sheets I had ever had the pleasure of lying on.
“Pizza okay?”
I nodded, and he kissed my nose. “Okay, beautiful, I’ll make the order. Don’t move.”
As if I would. I felt like I was lying on a big fluffy marshmallow, just without the stickiness. I shuffled up to the pillows that covered half the bed and leaned against them. A girl could get used to this.
I knew we still had to have a talk about what was going on with his ex-fiancée. But for now, I was content just enjoying being here with Oliver.
He came back a few minutes later and grinned when he saw me still lying on his bed. “Pizza will be here in fifteen. I’m just going to take a shower. Wanna join me?”
I shot off the bed faster than you could say “hussy” and followed him into the bathroom. And then I made sure Oliver was clean. He returned the favor, and we nearly didn’t get our pizza. But luckily the kid who delivered it really wanted a tip and rang the bell a few times.
We ate it in bed, and then got under the covers. I shuffled as close as I could get and laid my head on his chest. My leg found its way on top of his, and he hugged me close. I fell asleep shortly after, happy and carefree.
“How many?” I gasped, trying hard not to hyperventilate.
“We’re up to two hundred, but there are still orders coming in,” Chloe said, calm as could be. How she wasn’t running away screaming, I didn’t know.
“But how?” I asked, making a choking noise while trying to not be the one running out of the shop and changing my name.
“They’re coming through your website.”
It would really help at this stage if she showed more concern. There was no way I could make over two hundred dresses in four weeks. And she was my assistant, not only in the shop but also making the dresses. That was why I hired her. Because she was a design major like me who had somehow gotten stuck in Humptulips and needed a job. She was a godsend, but not even with her mad stitching skills could I pull this off. The dresses were already designed, but I still had to make them. They were part of my handmade line, after all.
“Get rid of the order button,” I said, waving at the computer.
Chloe looked at me like I’d gone mad. Which I had, but she wasn’t supposed to acknowledge that. “I’m not a web designer. I have no idea how to remove the button. And besides, you’ll have to put a message on your website before you just get rid of the orders.”
“Well, then put a message on there,” I pleaded, hovering over where she was sitting in my office chair.
“Don’t know how to do that either. Who designed your website? Just get them to do it.”
Of course. At least one of us was thinking straight. I pulled my phone out of the pocket of my dress—because all my designs had pockets—and called Lincoln. Lucky for me he answered on the second ring.
“Hey, Maisie, what’s up? How’s the shop going?”
“Lincoln,” I cried, unable to keep my voice even.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“You need to get rid of the order button on my website. Right now.”
“Why would you want to do that? You know that would mean nobody can order your gowns?”
“Yes, I realize they can’t order my gowns if there is no order button. That’s the point,” I said, much calmer now that I was talking to someone who knew how to work the website.
“But you still want to get rid of it?”
“As soon as you can.”
“Just give me a sec, I have to get your website up.”
“And can you put a message on there saying that because of the large number of orders, we have to suspend new orders until further notice?”
“Sure.”
I heard a car door slam, and then there was clicking in the background. I waited on the phone, not willing to hang up.
“Done. But I’m still confused. Wasn’t that the goal of your online store? To get orders?”
“It was. But I was not prepared to get so many.”
“Take a deep breath. I’ll come over with chocolate,” Lincoln said and hung up.
“I screwed up, didn’t I?” I said and looked at Chloe, who was still sitting down.
She turned away from the computer to look at me. “It’s just a minor hiccup. Don’t stress about it.”
“I just never expected to get so many orders for the handmade line. They’re really expensive. Why wouldn’t they just order off-the-rack dresses like every other normal person?”
How the hell did these people all want special orders? I had to find more seamstresses. This was a disaster. If I couldn’t deliver the dresses within four weeks like I promised on my website, I would be done.
“You’re breathing kind of funny,” Chloe unhelpfully pointed out.
“This is a nightmare. Tell me I’m not really awake.”
“You’re not really awake,” she deadpanned and stood up. “I have to get back out to the shop since you pulled your only employee into the back to look at a computer.”
She passed me and squeezed my arm. “You’ll be fine, boss. You can’t expect to get everything perfect right away.”
Well, I could certainly try to. The shop was one thing I was proud of. At least until now. Maybe if I hadn’t been so wrapped up in Oliver, I would have planned for this. I mean, who didn’t have a plan B in place for things like this? God, I was such a mess. What if my shop failed because I paid more attention to my raging hormones than my dresses?
Lincoln came rushing in ten minutes later, arms heavy with chocolates. He didn’t delay in handing over the Hershey’s kisses first and dumping the rest onto the sofa where I was sitting.
“I brought your entire stash,” he said and kneeled in front of me. “What else can I do?”
“Thanks for coming. You’re a lifesaver.”
“Of course. But what happened? I thought the whole point of your business was to sell dresses.”
“It is. But I’ve had too many orders. There is no way I can get them all done on time. Oh, Lincoln, I screwed up. Big-time. I’m such an idiot,” I wailed and threw myself into his arms. He di
dn’t expect my theatrics and fell backward, taking me with him.
“It’s going to be fine. Don’t worry. We’ll sort it out,” he said, patting my back while lying stock-still underneath me.
“What the fuck is going on here?” The angry voice pulled me out of my pity party.
I lifted my head and locked eyes with Oliver. He looked like his head would explode, and this time it was not just a figure of speech. He was livid. Something I hadn’t ever experienced. And wasn’t it just bullshit that he looked hot even when he was fuming mad? I was half expecting steam to come out of his ears.
I scrambled off Lincoln, elbowing him hard in his gut in the process.
“Shit, sorry,” I said and finally got up, holding my hand out for him.
We both scrambled back to standing, and I wished I could just push the rewind button. I chanced a glance at Oliver, and he still looked angry.
“Hey, Oliver, what are you doing here?” I asked, determined to ignore this mess.
“Thought I’d surprise my girlfriend and see if she wanted to have lunch with me.”
“She’d love to,” I said and chanced a step closer, “but she has to make a few hundred dresses and can’t really do lunch. Rain check?” When he didn’t shoot laser beams out of his eyes, I took another step. And then another. When I was within reach, he grabbed my hand and pulled me all the way to his chest.
“Girlfriend? I thought you said he was engaged?” Lincoln asked. From the moment he first met Oliver when Anna brought him to the house, he disapproved of him. And since he found out that I had been seeing Oliver for a while, his quiet disapproval turned into scathing dislike.
“That was yesterday. Today he’s not,” I said, trying to make light of the situation.
“Maisie, what are you doing?” Lincoln asked.
I raised my brows at him, unsure of where he was going with this.
“I’m standing in my office talking to you?” I said, making it sound like a question.
“Are you sure this is what you want?” Lincoln tried again. Well, now he was just making me mad.
“Yes, of course it’s what I want. Why the questions?”