by Tess Oliver
I sat on the corner of the bed. "Turn your body so I can see better." My words were tight in my throat again.
Shay watched me from beneath a curtain of dark lashes as she let her thighs fall open. Her clean shaven pussy glowed pink with moisture and her dark rose nipples puckered. It seemed she liked me watching her as much as I liked her eyes on me.
She pressed the tip of the vibrator inside of her. Instantly, her back arched off the mattress at the sensations it produced. "Shit, good party favor," she moaned. "I'm already close to coming."
"No," I said sharply. "Not yet. Pull it out if you need to. I don't want you to come yet."
She groaned with disappointment as she pulled out the toy. "Remember, I'm not breaking any bad habits," she said breathlessly.
"No, but I am. Not that you or that sweet pussy would ever be a bad habit." I heard my voice but was barely able to register what I was saying. All I could think of was that hot, wet sheath and my cock slipping comfortably inside of it. "Take a breath and tease your nipples."
Shay's head rolled to the side. She stared longingly at the vibrator as she teased her nipples with her free hand. Her soft moans filled the air, then floated down my pants and around my cock, giving my erection a long hot stroke of erotic sound.
"All right. Again." I leaned down on my stomach close enough that I could almost taste her pussy on my tongue as I watched the buzzing toy disappear. I groaned in frustration, rock hard with wanting her.
Her free hand dropped to the quilt, and she clutched it in her fingers as her body writhed against the vibrations. "Yes, shit yes." She was a sight to see overwhelmed by an orgasm, her lips parted with a satisfied purr and her body writhing with pleasure.
I released the breath I'd been holding and uncurled my fingers as she relaxed back against the pillows and sighed. "Why do I feel as if I just finished an awesome round of make-up sex with myself?"
"Trust me, darlin', I was right there with you in spirit." My body was still tight with wanting her, but I stretched out next to her and rested my head on the pillow. She turned onto her side and looked at me. Fucking hell, she looked so right in my bed, gazing at me from the pillow.
"Do you like my choice of party favors?" I asked.
She tapped the vibrator with her toe. "Very fun." Her brown eyes looked chocolate brown in the shaded room. "But kind of lonely and the afterglow cuddle is seriously lacking a nice, strong pair of arms." She looked pointedly at my arms. It took all my self-control not to pull her against me and hold her. I'd just watched her come with a hot purple sex toy between her legs, but the closest I came to breaking was right at that moment, when she badly needed to be held. And I badly needed to hold her.
23
Shay had rolled herself up in my quilt and fallen fast asleep. I was just finishing some work in my office when the doorbell rang. My phone buzzed at the same time.
"I'm out front," Jack texted.
I stopped at my bedroom. The sound of the doorbell had woken Shay. Her long thin arms stretched up for a yawn. "Was that the door or was my dream about the ice cream cart man being outside real?"
"It was the door. My friend Jack just pulled up, so you might want to grab some clothes." I walked to the entry and opened the door.
Jack was holding up his phone and a six pack of beer as he walked inside. "I bring gifts. I sent you a warning text because I never know what the hell is happening in your den of sin."
"Good to see you too, buddy."
"I find myself with nothing to do this afternoon." Jack headed to the kitchen and put the beer into the refrigerator but emerged with one in his hand and one for me. "And I thought to myself, I should go see what my bestest bestie Nash is up to." Jack's attention was immediately pulled past my shoulder. He tilted his head to get a better view. "Hello there."
"Hello." Shay strolled past. She had pulled on her favorite pair of faded jeans and a short black t-shirt. Her hair was swept up in a ponytail, which meant I'd be spending an insane amount of time thinking about her long, kissable neck.
"Shay, this is my friend Jack. You might have seen him at Fantasm."
"Yes, Delicious Man. That's the code name the dancers use for him."
Jack's brow arched. He looked confused and then pleased. "Is that right? So they think I'm delicious?" Jack nodded at me. "Did you hear that? Delicious Man."
"They know you're the best tipper," Shay added. Her smile had faded completely. Thick head that I was, I finally started to catch on that she was upset. And I knew why. I was an idiot. And now my big mouthed friend was making it worse.
"Is my friend treating you well?" Jack asked before I could signal him to shut up.
Shay's mouth twisted to the side as she looked at me. "I'm not allowed to discuss the contract, but you get to tell everyone?"
"Uh oh." Jack pacified himself with his beer and headed out to the patio to leave us alone.
"I'm sorry. You're right. I shouldn't have told him, but Jack is my sounding board. He's the friend who keeps me in check. I came up with this plan when we were both watching you on stage at Fantasm. So you could say, he knew about my idea when it was still just a seed in my mind and long before any contract was written. He's a good guy. He wouldn't ever betray my trust by telling anyone."
Shay nodded weakly. "I suppose that makes sense. But it stops with Jack."
"Yes, absolutely. It's no one's business. Why don't you pour yourself some wine and join us on the patio. Once you look past how big mouthed and delicious Jack is, he's a great guy. And I don't say that about many people."
Jack had his legs stretched out in front of him as I walked out onto the patio. He looked past me to make sure I was alone. "Dude, I opened my big mouth. Sorry."
"I won't deny the big mouth part, but I think I've smoothed it over." I pulled out a chair and sat. The late afternoon sun was reflecting off the blue water. The nice weather had brought a flock of pelicans to the water in front of the house. I watched them flap their giant wings as they hovered over the breaking waves to catch fish. "She is not like anyone else I've ever met. I'm glad the money will keep her from having to work at Fantasm again. She deserves way more than that."
"Maybe she deserves a nice, rich boyfriend who will give her a happy ending." There was no way to misinterpret his suggestion.
"The word nice is key there. I'm the last person she needs in her life. Just the fact that I've hired her to help me overcome my rabid sex drive should be clue enough for that."
"By the way, I went into Fantasm the other night. The mood in there is gloomy since Shay left."
The sliding door opened, and Shay stepped out with a glass of wine. "They were only excited about me because I was new. I'm sure Rocky will find another new girl soon and then the crowd will be just as enthusiastic and happy as always."
"Interesting theory," Jack said as Shay pulled out the chair next to him and sat down. "Except it's already been proven wrong. Rocky hired a new girl last week. Let's just say, she's a dud."
Shay responded by sipping her wine.
Jack pointed at me. "Enjoy that beer, pal. I nearly lost my life trying to buy it. Well, lost my life might be an over-exaggeration but it was quite the shopping adventure. Conway's Market in the downtown area had just put out their first delivery of pumpkins as I pulled up to the lot. I was nearly stampeded by women running for the squash." He looked at Shay, who sat down next to him with her wine. "I know the saying is usually—what is it about women and horses?" Jack continued. "But what is it about women and pumpkins?"
Shay's smile returned. "Pumpkins mean breaking out winter sweaters and slick, tall boots and coffee with nutmeg and cloves and leaves turning color and pie and Halloween and pumpkin muffins and . . ." She stopped. "Should I go on?"
"Nope, that was a very comprehensive answer. I understand completely. Now if I could figure out the rest of the mysteries about women, I'd be rich. Wait. I am rich. Never mind. It's probably better not to understand them too well."
"Oh?" I a
sked. "Is there trouble in paradise with the new girlfriend?"
"No," he said too quickly. "Yes. But I think trouble is too strong of a word. It's more like a major difference of opinion. She just wants more of a commitment."
"Already?" I asked, earning a quick scowl from Shay. "It's been less than a month," I added in my defense.
"But it's been an intense month," Jack added. "She just wants a promise that I'm not seeing any other women. I've told her she needs to give me time to adjust."
"Bullshit.” Shay laughed. "Time to adjust? You're not moving to another planet. You're just dating a woman."
"She has a point," I said.
Jack laughed. "That's rich coming from you, Nash. But when Shay puts it like that, I feel like a selfish jerk." He swallowed some beer. "Change of subject. How is it going with the proposal for those scientists with the light metal bike frames? Don't forget I want to be included in testing a prototype. We could take the bikes on one of the mountain trails in Alta Dena."
"Alta Dena," Shay piped up. "That's where I think I found a place to live. It's a cute little back house, and it's close to Pasadena where I hope to find a job."
"You're going to move all the way out there?" In my head, the sentence finished with but that's so far away from me.
"Malibu is a little out of my price range. In fact, it's out of all ordinary people's price range. Besides, there are a lot more jobs inland." She obviously hadn't thought once about being far away from me. I couldn't blame her. I'd want to be far away from me too.
My phone rang. I glanced at the number. It was Dad's nurse, Mr. Pruitt. And suddenly, everything vanished around me, Jack and Shay and the pelicans diving in the blue sea. Suddenly, it was just me and the ringing phone with a message on the other end. And I knew what the message was before I said hello. I stood up and walked away from the table to answer it.
"Hello." My feet traveled absently along the paved path leading to the pool area.
"Hello, Mr. Archer?"
"Yes, Mr. Pruitt, it's me. Is there something wrong?"
His pause was the same as words. "I'm very sorry, Nash, but your father passed away about twenty minutes ago."
It shouldn't have been a shock to hear that Dad had died. I'd had months to prepare for it, yet it sounded too strange, too implausible to think that a life that was so supercharged, so powerful, so tireless had been extinguished. I could think of a hundred instances as a kid when I'd wished the man would die or disappear or turn into something more like a real father. Now he was gone.
"Thank you, Mr. Pruitt. You were truly a godsend in these last few months. Thank you for taking such great care of him. I'm new at this. What should I do? What comes next?"
"The doctor has already arranged for the transport of his body to the funeral home. Just as you father had requested."
"I'm sure my dad has everything planned right up to the last shovel of dirt at the gravesite. Thank you again."
"Good bye, Nash. And take care."
I hung up and stared down at the phone for a second before walking back to the patio where Shay and Jack seemed to be deep in a debate about the best way to eat pizza. Jack glanced up from their conversation. "We need to order a pizza so I can show this anti-crust woman how to eat from—" He stopped. "Nash? What's up? Who was that?"
I sat down and took hold of my beer. "My dad died."
"No shit." Jack sat forward. I could feel Shay's gaze on me, but I wasn't ready to meet it yet. "Hey, Nash, if there's anything you need, I'm here for you."
"Yes, me too." Shay's faint voice reached through the stunned cloud circling my head. I finally worked up the courage to look at her. Her brown eyes were glassy with emotion. I wanted nothing more than to reach for her hand.
As good friends do, Jack and Shay sat quietly waiting for me to decide just how to react. How the hell does one react when losing someone they loved as much as they hated? I credited my dad with my talent in business. At the same time, I credited him with my numerous character flaws, one being the inability to work up true sorrow about losing my dad, my only family member.
"Maybe you're more human than wooden, after all," Jack said quietly. "It seems this has hit you harder than you expected. How are you feeling?"
I took a deep breath and watched a seagull land on the pool deck and then settle itself down for a nap in the sun. "Like my emotions are having a big fucking battle in my head. Not sure when I've ever had such mixed feelings about anything."
Shay stood. "You need some sustenance. I'm going to mix you up a banana smoothie." She disappeared inside.
I looked over at Jack. "I take that back. I just remembered something that has my feelings tangled into a big fucking mess."
Jack tapped the table hard enough to rattle the beer bottles. "I knew it. Ha. I fucking knew it. You're falling in love with Shay."
I didn't answer him. But then I didn't need to. I took a long drink and put the bottle down.
"Shit, Jack. He's gone. My dad's gone. I was sure he'd stick around for no other reason except spite, but even David Nash Archer couldn't outsmart death."
24
Considering the complexity of my dad's business affairs there was very little paperwork left to deal with. He had taken care of everything. Though, I was convinced he'd done it not to save me the headache but to show he'd had control until the last minute. That revelation made me smile. It really summed the man up well.
James Sheffield had been my dad's lawyer since I could remember, or at the very least, since I'd learned the word lawyer. He was a man whose fine dining and whiskey sours had caught up to him. His stomach strained the fabric of his vest, and his multiple chins were giving his shirt collar a workout too.
He lifted the stack of papers I had signed and tapped them on the dining room table to straighten them. "That should do it for now. The deed to the house will be transferred to the charitable trust until it can be sold. In the meantime, you'll probably want to make a list of all the things you are taking with you and what you'd like to be sold at auction. As I'm sure you know, some of the art your dad collected is extremely valuable."
"Yes, my dad didn't hold on to anything unless it was extremely valuable. There are a few items I want. I'll make a list next week. Could you also see to it that Mr. Pruitt receives one of the paintings at the top of the stairs as a gift."
Sheffield's eyes bulged. "That's extremely generous of you. Are you certain?"
"Trust me. He earned it."
Sheffield wrote a reminder on his phone and pushed out his chair to stand. "Your father took care of everything and got all his affairs in order. All that's left besides his funeral are the legal details on the trust. I'm sure you'll need time to decide which financial institutions you want to use. Will a week be enough time?"
I pushed up from the chair to see him out. "I think you might be ahead of the game, James. My new company doesn't even have a logo yet, let alone a seven digit profit. Could be awhile."
James rubbed his many chins between his forefinger and thumb. "I'm not following. What does your inheritance have to do with your new company?"
"The new addendum? I'd already reached the first one by making ten million without him, but he was so angry about my fiasco with MG Enterprises, he told me I had to get my company up and profitable before the trust could be turned over."
Dad's lawyer looked at me as if I was talking in a foreign language. His bushy brows did a little dance on his forehead. "I don't have a clue what you're talking about, Nash. There is no such addendum. And there was never a stipulation that you had to earn ten million on your own first. The trust has always been signed over to you, David Nash Archer Junior, his sole heir. Of course there is a chunk of money set aside so that Miss Odenkirk can continue to receive her monthly stipend." His mouth rolled into a thin line as he finished speaking. It seemed he wanted to take away the last part.
"Miss Odenkirk?" I asked. "Just who is this elusive Miss Odenkirk?"
His face turned red, and
his tongue seemed to be tied in a knot. "My lord," he stuttered. "I was sure you knew about her."
"It seems there are a lot of things I didn't know about. My dad never stopped treating me like a kid. He was a private man, as you know. Who is she?"
He paused. "I'm not sure it's my place to say."
"James, you are probably the only person on earth who knows everything about my dad. More than me. It's your place."
His big barrel chest expanded with a deep breath. "Lydia Odenkirk is your mother."
I stared at him, not sure I’d heard him correctly. "That can't be right. My dad paid some woman to have his baby and then he sent her off for good. He never even told me her real name."
"I think it was his way of keeping complete control of you. Yes, he paid a woman to have his baby, but he kept in contact with Miss Odenkirk. And he made sure she lived a good, comfortable life." He pulled his briefcase off the chair. "I'm sure this is a lot for you to absorb, Nash. I'll leave you alone. I'll see you tomorrow at the funeral."
I walked along with him to the front door. My steps felt heavy with the new information weighing down my thoughts. A lot to absorb was an understatement.
I saw James out and then headed up to Dad's room. As a kid I was never allowed inside his room on my own, and I was certainly never allowed to crawl into his vast bed with him on a stormy night or after a bad dream.
The whole house seemed eerily quiet. I stepped inside the room. The medical equipment and leftover medicine had been taken out and the room looked back to normal, except it wasn't. I'd never see him standing in the room looking imperious or angry or deep in thought again.
I walked over to the bed and sat on the edge of it. His reading glasses were sitting on the nightstand. I picked them up and slipped them on, blurring my own vision with the prescription lenses. I opened the nightstand drawer. He had aspirin and notepads and pens tucked inside. I shuffled past the notepads and pulled out a stack of pictures. I pulled off the glasses.
My ten-year-old face stared back at me. They were my school pictures, one for each year. Dad had written my full name and the date on the back of each one. I shuffled through and found the picture with his parents in front of their van. The last picture was of a woman, a pretty woman with green eyes standing in a summer dress and floppy straw hat. Her smile was gracious, and she looked like she had a good sense of humor. I turned the picture over and ran my thumb over my dad's writing. Just as he had done on my school pictures, he had written down the name and date for the woman in the picture. Lydia Odenkirk, 2003. It was taken when I was thirteen years old.
