by Sky Winters
“Listen,” said Olivia. “I just want to thank you again, for everything.”
“One ‘thank you’ is enough,” said Ian. “It’s not necessary to drown me with gratitude.”
Olivia’s face tightened in frustration at how intent Ian seemed to be on keeping her at a distance.
“I just don’t want you to think that I’m not grateful.”
“Again, appreciated, but unnecessary.”
Olivia sipped her wine in silence, no sound but the crackling of the fire. The rest of the house was shrouded in darkness, and Olivia found herself missing the creature comforts of the compound.
“Lights will be back tomorrow, too,” said Ian, noticing where Olivia was looking, despite him having returned to his book.
“Oh, wonderful,” said Olivia.
Another moment hung in the air, the soft sound of a page turning cutting through the low roar of the fire.
“Can we…talk?” asked Olivia.
“About?” asked Ian.
“I don’t know. Anything. If we’re going to be here for a while, we might as well get to know each other.”
Ian turned the book over once again and set it back down on the coffee table.
“Oh?” he asked. “What do you want to know?”
Olivia wasn’t expecting this kind of candor.
“I don’t know…anything.”
Ian let a light smirk play on his face.
“I’m from New York, like you. The city, that is.”
“Really?” asked Olivia, leaning her body towards him. “I thought you Swift boys were all the small-town, upstate type.
“We are, for the most part. The rest of my brothers have spent most of their lives upstate; the compound where we live was built in the early twentieth century, by our great grandparents.”
Olivia took another sip of her wine, happy that Ian was letting her in, if only with superficial details.
“Anyway, I was born at the compound, like my brothers. However, my parents noticed that I was unlike the rest of my siblings. I was a little more precocious; while my brothers were busy roughhousing, I usually had my nose in a book. At least, that’s what my parents told me.”
“And your parents now?” asked Olivia. “Where are they?”
“Gone,” said Ian, the word coming out hard and definitive, sending a clear message that he wasn’t interested in discussing the topic further.
A tense moment hung in the air before Ian began speaking again.
“So, I went to New York when I was younger, living with an uncle. My parents thought the city might be better for one of my…temperament.”
“And was it?”
“It was. We lived in the Upper East Side for years, taking occasional trips upstate to see the rest of the family. My uncle was a more cultured type, and he provided me with a wonderful education. I learned the city inside and out. When Roland came of age, he expressed an interest in the city. He wanted to learn finance. We purchased an apartment together in Midtown, both of us going to school there. He got into the finance industry, and I went into property management after graduation. After some time, we both made our fortunes, adding them to our family’s savings.”
“And then?”
“Then our parents…passed. We both decided that the family was too important to be split apart, and, not to mention, the time for us to take brides was approaching. We both returned to the compound, managing and investing the family’s wealth full-time.”
He took another sip of his wine, the light from the fire playing in his green eyes. Olivia felt herself staring at Ian, her gaze taking in every square inch of his body. The half-glass of wine she’d drunk rushed to her head, and her thoughts became occupied once again with the dream she’d had.
“I can’t help but feel like there’s more to the story,” said Olivia, trying to tease more details out of him.
“That’s really it,” said Ian.
But she could sense that he was being glib.
Then, a question slipped from her lips that she never would’ve asked had the wine not gotten the better of her.
“Are you seeing anyone? I mean, your brothers are all married, right?”
Ian’s face darkened. He took his wine from the table and sat back into his seat, the crackling of the fire filling the air.
“That’s not something I want to talk about,” he said, his tone stern. “Consider that topic ‘off-limits.’”
Olivia watched as his jaw worked under his cheeks, as though the subject caused him physical pain to consider. She felt stupid, wanting to pour herself another glass of wine and run upstairs, banning herself from any further conversation.
But she changed the topic to lighter things, and, aided by wine, they fell into a pleasant rapport. Olivia couldn’t remember when, exactly, but at some point, she moved closer to Ian on the couch as they chatted. And a little after that, the two glasses of wine and the long journey caught up with her, and she began to slip into sleep. She fought her heavy eyelids, knowing that even though Noah was still sleeping peacefully, she should check on him one last time before going to bed. But she couldn’t help it; her head was heavy, and without thinking, she rested it on Ian’s shoulder and drifted into sleep.
The next thing she remembered was being carried in Ian’s arms upstairs. She was half-asleep still, but cognizant of how nice it felt to be in his arms. He lay her down on the bed and took off her shoes before leaving. As soon as the door shut behind him, all she could think about was how much she wanted him to come back and to lie next to her.
With a sigh, she realized that was a silly idea, and that the sooner she put these thoughts out of her head, the better off she’d be. With a hoist, she got out of bed and checked on Noah. He was still sleeping, though she knew that it’d be a matter of hours before he awoke in tears. Taking one last look at her baby’s sweet face, she fell back onto the bed and went out as soon as her head touched the pillow.
CHAPTER 8
Olivia awoke feeling refreshed. Noah woke her up once during the night, and a simple feeding was enough to put him back under. Stepping out of bed, the floor cool on her feet, she looked into the crib at the sleeping baby, noting how lucky she was to have a child with a mellow temperament.
Doesn’t take after his father in that way, obviously, she thought to herself, stroking Noah’s cheek with the back of her index finger as she watched his little chest rise and fall.
Throwing on a light robe, Olivia went downstairs, where she saw Ian already hard at work cleaning the living room. The junk that had accumulated in the living room was in a neat pile in the corner; the room already looked more spacious.
“Morning,” he said, carrying a large, heavy-looking box across the room to the pile. Olivia’s gaze went to the straining muscles under his black t-shirt.
“Good morning,” she said. “Wow, it already looks better in here.”
Ian set the box down with a grunt before wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his taut forearm.
“It should; this is a vacation home, after all,” he said. “It’s a great house when it hasn’t been neglected for years.”
Olivia looked around the living room. With the sun streaming in, it did look homier, and the view out onto the backyard was beautiful.
“It looks great. When you live in New York, the idea of a backyard with a deck is something you don’t even dare dream about.”
“Oh, I know,” said Ian. “Roland and I shared an apartment in the village during college that you could drop in the middle of this place and not even notice.”
He moved another box across the room, placing it on the pile.
“There’s coffee in the kitchen; help yourself.”
Coffee sounded to Olivia like the most heavenly thing imaginable, and she started off for the kitchen. But as she made her way, she realized that you can’t run a coffee maker without electricity. Shooting a series of glances around the space, she saw that Ian’s phone was plugged into an outlet, an
d that the microwave light in the kitchen was on and displaying the correct time.
“You…got the electricity working?” asked Olivia.
Ian, setting down his box, took a seat on the back of the couch, his chest rising and falling.
“Yeah. You don’t live with an electrician for years and not pick up a thing or two.”
Without thinking, Olivia rushed over to him, threw her arms around his neck, and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
“Thank you so much,” she said.
“Hey,” he said, “what did I say about non-stop gratitude?”
Olivia stepped back from him. “Well, you have to let me say ‘thank you’ sometimes,” she said.
A wry smirk crossed his lips. “Go get your coffee.”
She darted from the room and into the kitchen. Taking a freshly washed mug from the drying rack, she chastised herself for being so open with her affection towards Ian.
He’s hardly fine with thank-yous, she thought to herself, why would I think he’d be happy about a hug and a kiss?
But she couldn’t help herself, and despite his protestations, she wanted him to know without a shadow of a doubt how grateful she was that he was looking after her. Pouring a cup of steaming hot coffee, she leaned against the kitchen counter, looking around the room at the dirt and grime that stained every surface. She noted that, like every other room, it had potential—the countertops were a solid, handsome marble, the cupboards and cabinets were a lovely birch color, and the place seemed to have the necessary appliances to prepare just about any kind of meal she wanted.
A thought crossed her mind, and she realized that a man like Ian would likely be more receptive to doing, and not talking. Right then and there, she set herself to helping out in whatever way she could.
And stop one was breakfast.
“Do you mind if I go into town?” Olivia asked, stepping back into the living room, her delicate fingers wrapped around her mug.
“Into town?” asked Ian. “Why?”
“We do need some food,” she said. “Not just for breakfast, but to stock up.”
“I don’t know,” said Ian. “I don’t feel very good about you going there alone.”
“It’ll be fine,” Olivia insisted. “We passed a grocery store on the way here; it can’t be more than twenty minutes away. Not to mention I think it’d be good for Noah to not have to stay cooped-up all day.”
Ian thought it over.
“Fine,” he said. “But text me if you’re going to be longer than an hour; I don’t want to be here with no car wondering where you are.”
Olivia’s face lit up as her mind filled with thoughts on what sort of meals she could prepare.
“Great!”
“Keys are by the door,” he said.
A beaming smile on her face, Olivia nodded enthusiastically and rushed back upstairs. Noah was now awake, and she gave him a quick feeding and a change before hopping in the shower. She wanted to lounge, taking a slow, relaxing shower, but decided that even more than that, she wanted to get into town. After a time, she was dried off, dressed, and ready to go. Noah was loaded into his car seat carrier and she carried him downstairs.
“Any special requests?” she asked.
“I’ll trust your judgment,” said Ian, looking over the room with his arms crossed, as if sizing it up for a change of décor.
She snatched the keys out of the bowl by the door and placed her hand on the door knob.
“Wait,” said Ian as she opened the door.
Olivia turned back to him.
“One rule,” he said, withdrawing a black leather wallet from the back pocket of his slim-cut jeans. “I pay.”
Before she could protest, he had already slipped a gold card into her hand, which she tucked into her pocket as though it were a top-secret document.
“Thanks,” she said once again.
The drive into town was uneventful. Olivia noted the scenery in the daylight, taking in the sweeping vistas of rolling hills lined with trees heavy with dark green leaves, the grass emerald below them, and the wispy white clouds swirling in the blue sky above. Olivia realized that she’d never really been to New England, but that she was enjoying what she’d seen so far. Either way, she realized that she was happy to be out of the city, and away from her life there.
She arrived at the grocery store, which was a standard affair of florescent lighting and a dozen aisles packed with just about anything she could’ve wanted. She stocked up on anything that sounded good, not knowing how long she’d be in the house with Ian. And when she arrived at the meat department, she got the sense that she should buy even more than she might’ve. Ian was part bear, after all, and likely had a taste for the red and bloody. And as she shopped, she realized how good it felt to be bringing home food for Ian. Even though they hadn’t known each other for long, their arrangement in the house was the closest thing to normal domesticity she’d experienced in a long while.
Completing her purchases—Noah sleeping soundly throughout it all—Olivia checked out and headed to the car. But something strange caught her eye as she pushed the heavy, food-laden cart to the Land Rover—it was a man standing by his car.
The car caught her eye immediately. It was a late-model luxury car, a flashy ride with chrome and gold accents—something almost made to stand out. The cars in town seemed to be built to handle the terrain, so a car like this man’s was incongruous with the surroundings.
And the man himself sent a chill up Olivia’s spine. He was dressed in a gray three-piece suit, the gold chain of a pocket watch drooping low to his waist. His eyes were hidden behind sunglasses that even from this distance Olivia could tell were designer. She couldn’t tell for certain, his eyes hidden behind those dark lenses, but it seemed that he was looking right at her.
When Olivia noticed him, the man didn’t act startled, instead simply ducking back into his car and driving off.
The man seemed out of place—most of the people living in the area seemed to be either those of humble means or wealthy, granola types with vacation homes. A man like him just didn’t fit in. But she chalked it up to paranoia. After all, how could she know exactly who lived here? She’d been in town for less than a day.
Once Noah was strapped in, she drove back to the house, the bags of groceries jostling as she made her way up the winding roads.
When she arrived, she still couldn’t shake the image of the man from her thoughts. Was it possible that Brody had tracked her all the way here? But as soon as she stepped into the house, the concerns left her mind. She dropped the keys and credit card into the bowl near the door.
Ian shot to attention as she walked in. The living room was nearly cleared out, and whatever junk was there had been set near the garage out front.
“You’re back,” he said. “Let me help you with those.”
He did just that, bringing in the bags with such speed and strength that Olivia was only able to take one or two smaller ones before he finished the job.
“Please,” said Olivia once all the groceries were in the kitchen. “Let me at least put everything away.”
“Only the lighter things,” said Ian, several packages of meat in his hand. “You just had a kid; don’t feel in a rush to strain yourself.”
He’s right, thought Olivia, to her chagrin. She realized that it was strange seeing a man take care of her with such enthusiasm; she almost felt as if she didn’t deserve it. She tried to imagine Brody doing anything like this, doing anything but sleeping off his hangover before waking up to pick a fight over one thing or another before heading back out for another night of criminality.
“Okay,” said Olivia, accepting his help. “I’ll start on breakfast, then.”
Ian nodded before going back to putting away groceries.
Olivia fetched eggs, bacon, and whatever other ingredients she needed from the fridge and set to work. Minutes later, she presented Ian with a plate heaping with food.
“Thanks,” he said, taking it f
rom her and setting into it with a ravenous hunger, only lifting his head from the meal to wipe his mouth and take a sip of coffee.
In less than a few minutes, Ian’s plate was clear. Olivia looked at her own food, noticing that she hadn’t even made it through her first strip of bacon. Looking Ian over, her eyes tracking down his lean, strong body, she got the sense that he wasn’t quite full. Without asking if he wanted seconds, she cracked another few eggs into the bowl she had been using and made another serving. She spooned the food onto his plate with another side of bacon, and he tore into it with just as much abandon as the first helping.
When finished, he leaned against the counter behind him, and Olivia could see that he was good and full.
“That was great,” said Ian, his full lips sheened with bacon grease, which he quickly wiped away. “Thanks again.”
“Now who’s going overboard with the thank-yous?” asked Olivia.
Ian’s mouth formed into another smirk as he rinsed the plate off before returning it back to the sink. He poured himself another mug of coffee before putting the last few groceries away and heading back into the living room.
Oliva watched him work for a time, sipping her coffee as he finished the living room. After a half hour or so, it was clear and clean, the fireplace filled with the rest of the chopped wood and crackling, the couches now inviting and homey. Olivia’s eyes moved from bookshelf to bookshelf, and she wondered how many of the colorful hardcovers that adorned them had been read by Ian when he was younger.
Ian had gone upstairs, and when he returned he was wearing a thin red-and-green flannel shirt, a tough-looking pair of jeans, and a pair of heavy brown boots.
“I’ll be outside getting some wood cut if you need me,” he said.
“Sure,” said Olivia. “I’ll just be in here cleaning.”
With that, he stepped outside and set to work. After a time, Ian settled into a rhythm as Oliva watched, setting one piece on the trunk in front of him before bringing down his axe in a long arc, splitting the piece in half. Then, he’d set the piece on his pile and start the process again. Olivia had to forcibly tear herself away from watching him; there was just something about watching a man cut wood that turned her on—she couldn’t explain it.
