by Emma Hart
“It’s got three holes to attach it, so if you do it roughly in the middle, I can figure the other two out.”
“Um.” I licked my lips. “Excuse me.”
“Gonna have to duck, love. I can’t move from here.”
Love.
Ughhhhhh.
This man.
I ducked under his arm like I knew I’d have to. My butt brushed against his body, and I tried not to swallow too hard as I drew a line against the underside of the shelf.
“Like that?” I whispered.
“Yeah,” he replied in a low tone. “Like that.”
Oh, God.
I quickly retreated. “Do you need more help? Is that fine? I need to go and cook.”
“No, you’re good. Thanks.” Ollie smiled at me, and his eyes twinkled knowingly. “This won’t take long.”
I disappeared quickly and headed to the kitchen to cook where I was much more comfortable. I pulled the chicken from the fridge and seasoned it, then put it in a hot pan to cook slowly while I fixed the salad.
I could hear Ollie drilling upstairs, and I looked up at the ceiling more than once. I almost sliced through my thumb when I wasn’t paying attention, so I stopped thinking about what was being done upstairs and started focusing on the salad I was chopping.
The drilling stopped right before the chicken was done. I hoped that was the end of it because it was hugely distracting. The last thing I needed at the end of cooking chicken or dicing pepper was a distraction.
So it really didn’t help when Ollie walked in two minutes later. “All done,” he said, wiping his hands on his shorts. “Do you need any help with anything?”
“No, it’s fine. You can sit down. Thanks, though.” I scooped salad onto two plates and turned to the chicken, catching it just before it was about to be too overdone. I served it up and set the plates on the table, while Ollie turned and helped him to a bottle of water from the fridge.
I watched with amusement as he located my water jug, used the ice dispenser in the fridge to put ice in it, then filled it up and put it on the table with two glasses. “My, look who’s feeling at home.”
He laughed as he sat down to pour the water. “Thought I’d be helpful.”
“Very helpful.” I smiled at him. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Thank you for lunch.”
“Thank you for putting up my shelf.”
“Ah, your last-minute shelf you ordered to get me over here.”
I choked on a piece of cucumber and had to thump my chest to get it to go down. I grabbed my water and took a long drink to calm myself, then finally choked out, “What?”
Ollie fought a smile. “I was kidding. You did, though, didn’t you?”
“I—” I swallowed. “Yeah.”
“Why didn’t you just ask me to come over?”
“I don’t know. It was awkward after we spoke on Saturday, then I kind of wanted to spend time with you but not make it a date, but I didn’t know how to explain that, so I just… Bought a shelf.”
He ran his tongue over his lower lip. “I don’t know how to respond to that.”
“Neither would I,” I admitted. “I just wanted to hang out. I don’t know what I want to do, but I like spending time with you, but it’s the most fun when it’s… normal. You know? And I just wanted that.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah, okay.” His lips pulled to one side. “I’m not annoyed. I had nothing else to do and I like spending time with you. What do you wanna do after lunch?”
“After—after lunch?”
“Got anymore shelves to put up?” He raised his eyebrows.
“Oh, be quiet.” I tossed a cherry tomato at him.
He caught it.
Damn it.
Then he ate it.
Double damn it.
We ate the rest of lunch in peace, if you ignored the fleeting looks we shared. I didn’t really know what to say to him, thanks to the awkward purgatory we found our relationship in.
And when I say relationship, I mean in general. You know. Not specifically romantic.
Were we friends?
Were we more?
Flip a coin, see what happened!
No. That was ridiculous.
Don’t flip a coin to determine your relationship status, kids.
Big mistake.
Ollie stood. “Are you done?”
“Oh, yes, thanks.” My gaze followed him as he took my plate and carried it to the trashcan where he scraped off the remains of the salad, then took them to the sink where he proceeded to run hot water and… “Are you doing my dishes?”
“You wanted normal stuff. This is normal stuff.”
“If you’ve been dating for a few months.”
“I carried your son to bed last week. I think we can go for a bowl of hot, soapy water, London.” He squeezed dish soap into the sink.
I got up. “No, that’s weird.”
“Weirder than your shelf that you didn’t need?”
“Oh, shut up.” I tried to push him out of the way, but he was bigger than stronger than me, so it achieved a whole lot of absolutely nothing.
So I did what any mature adult would do.
I grabbed a handful of the bubbles and smooshed them into his face.
He sputtered as they went into his mouth. “Ugh!”
I giggled and backed up, but he was quicker. He grabbed me and did the exact same thing to me, except he followed his up with the dishcloth on top of my head. Hot water dripped all down my hair and my back, and I gasped.
“Ollie!” I squealed, wriggling out of his grasp. “Oh, my God!” Water dripped in my eyes, making my mascara run. My left eye stung as the makeup smudged, and I had to wave him off to quickly grab hold of some of the baby wipes from the cupboard.
Look, it didn’t matter if your kid wasn’t a baby anymore. You always had baby wipes. They were good for so many things other than bums.
Sticky hands? Yep. Sticky table? Yep. Grazed knee? Yep. Emergency tissue in a public restroom? Yep.
Makeup wipes?
Yep.
Especially that.
They were cheaper, too. Bigger packets.
I wiped away my makeup, glaring at him the whole time. “I can’t believe you did that.”
“You started it.” He laughed and turned off the tap so he could wash the dishes. “I felt like Santa there for a moment.”
“Yeah, but now I have to redo my makeup,” I grumbled, getting another wipe to give my face another once over to make sure it was clean.
“Why?” He looked over at me, frowning.
“I have to get Leo from school and probably run by the office.”
“Why do you need makeup for that?”
I motioned to my face.
“I don’t see anything wrong.” Ollie turned back to the dishes, wiping a plate clean.
I blinked at him. “Did you just pay me a compliment or did you forget your words?”
He dropped his head back and laughed. “London, I think you look beautiful without makeup. You don’t need it.”
“Thanks, but I don’t wear it for you.”
“I’m sure you don’t. I was just clarifying the compliment.”
“Oh.”
Ollie washed the last dish and put it on the drying rack. “I believe the correct response there is ‘thank you, Ollie.’”
“Thank you, Ollie,” I parroted. “Better?”
“Maybe.” He dried his hands, keeping his eyes trained on me.
“Why are you staring at me like that?”
“Thinking.”
“About?”
He clicked his tongue, but didn’t answer, instead going outside.
Well, that was rude.
I followed him out. “Hey! You can’t just say that then walk away.”
“Come here. I need to tell you something.”
Uh-oh. “That is never a prelude to anything good.”
“You don’t
know that.”
“I do. I’m a mom. Every time my kid says, “Mom, I need to tell you something,” it means he’s either broken something, lost something, or done something. None of them are good things.” I sat down next to him on the sofa on the porch. “What have you either broken, lost, or done?”
He stared at me for a moment before he started laughing. “Sorry. That’s exactly what my mum would have said about me as a child.”
“Great. So you’re how my child is going to turn out.”
“Hopefully he becomes the professional footballer and gives you a good retirement home.”
“We all hope for that. Now what do you need to talk about?”
Ollie shifted his position so he was facing me and leaned on the back of the sofa. “I spoke to Seb yesterday.”
“Lucky you.”
“London.”
“Sorry.” I mimed zipping my lips.
He looked at me for a moment until he was sure I was silent. “He gave me a contract. A new job offer.”
Oh.
“Director of Soccer,” Ollie continued. “I prefer Director of Football, but you can’t win them all.”
I fought a smile.
“I’d be in control of all the football. The coaching, the coaching staff, the teams, the tournaments… All of it.”
I swallowed.
“I haven’t signed it yet. It’s a lot of responsibility and I need to figure it out.”
Oh.
I glanced down at the sofa. A leaf was sitting in front of me, and I picked it up to fidget with it. I needed to do something with my hands. “So why are you telling me this?”
“I wasn’t going to,” he admitted. “But last night when I told you that I appreciated how honest you were with me, I realized that I needed to do the same with you.”
I met his eyes. “And I appreciate that.”
“I’m going to meet with Seb this week. Find out more of the ins and outs of it all, you know? It’s a big contract, and I can’t rush into it without knowing all the details.”
“That makes complete sense.” I smiled, but it felt a little hollow.
Why would he tell me this? I’d rather not know, because now if he didn’t sign it, I knew it meant he would go back to England.
“I need to run by the office for something. Sorry. I don’t want to be rude.” I got up and turned back to the house, letting the leaf flutter down to the floor.
“I want to sign it.”
I stopped. “What?”
“I want to sign it.” Ollie walked over to me. “I wasn’t going to say that either, but I can’t stand that look on your face.”
“Rude.” I pouted.
“No. Stop.” He brushed his thumb over my lip. “You looked sad when I said I hadn’t signed it. London…” He closed the remaining space between us and cupped my face. “I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want you to think I was using it to convince you to date me. I only found out yesterday, but Seb has known for a while. The timings…”
I placed my hand over his. “Ollie, I know you wouldn’t do that. You’re too damn nice to do that.”
“Unless it worked?”
I pulled back from him and raised my eyebrows.
“Kidding, kidding.” He laughed, letting me go. “I really do want to sign it. It’s just so much work, and I need to figure it all out.”
“I know. It sounds it. But, you know, I’m pretty good with research…” I trailed off.
“I was hoping you’d say that.” He laughed, walking through to the front door with me. “You don’t need to go to the office, do you?”
“I actually do. I left my USB stick with all the photos of the center on in my office and I need to start laying the article draft out tonight.” I shrugged. “Timing.”
“All right, I believe you.”
“But, um.” I paused as he put his hand on the door and turned to look back at me. “Maybe Leo needs more training tomorrow? Or just someone to play Mario with?”
He tilted his head to the side. “Are you inviting me over, London?”
I bit the inside of my lip. He was doing to me what I did to him all the time. “What if I am?”
He turned and walked toward me, stopping right in front of me. “Then I guess I’ll see you about two o’clock tomorrow.” He pressed his lips to mine in a long, firm kiss that made my toes curl inside my socks, then left, leaving me standing dumbfounded in the middle of the hall, completely alone, with my lips still tingling.
Had I just gotten myself a relationship?
CHAPTER FIFTEEN – LONDON
RULE FIFTEEN: ALWAYS BE HONEST. UNLESS IT’S ABOUT WHO ATE THE LAST CHOCOLATE. THEN IT WAS NEVER YOU.
“Piper, what do I do?” I paced the length of the kitchen. “I said I needed time, but I can’t stop spending it with him. He’s coming over in five hours to play soccer or Mario with Leo and I just know I’m going to kiss him again.”
“London, I’m gonna need you to put a hair net on.” She pointed to the hair nets hanging from a hook. “I want sugar on my cookies, not dandruff. And stop pacing. It’s nine a.m. It’s too early for pacing.”
She woke up at four a.m. Like this was early for her.
“I don’t have dandruff.” I grabbed a hair net and tucked my hair under it anyway. “What do I do? He said he wants to sign it. But we only had that conversation on our first date and that was three days ago!”
She shot me a withering look. “That wasn’t your first date.”
“It was!”
“Your first official one, sure. But really it was at the speed dating when you both took off.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but nothing came out.
“Then he came over to your place. You’ve spent more time with him in the last week than you have any of us. And I’m not being a bitch about that, I’m just saying.” She shrugged. “You might like to think you’re not seeing each other, but you are.” She put a tray of muffins in the oven. “Besides, we both know he’s signing that contract.”
“He might not.”
“He will.” She snapped off her gloves and leaned her hip against the counter. “He’s already made his mind up. That’s why he told you. He wants you to know that he’s going to sign it so you can make up your mind about dating him.”
I paused. “Noooo.”
“Yes,” she replied slowly. “And the sooner you realize that you’ve been harboring feelings for him for a while, the happier you’ll be. You’ve been crushing on him for ages, but you can’t use Leo as an excuse anymore.”
“When did I use Leo as an excuse?”
“All the time!” She laughed. “I get it, you’re afraid of being hurt, but that’s a risk you run in every relationship. You can’t hide behind him anymore, London.”
Wow. This was going deeper than I thought it would.
“I know you want to protect him, but you have to think about you, too.” Piper came over and touched my upper arms. “If you’re happy, he’s going to be happy. And I’ve seen you with Ollie. You smile a bit brighter than normal, okay? Don’t push him away. He’s not going to do to you what Christopher did.”
“But Leo—”
“He’s not going to do that to Leo either,” she said firmly, releasing me. “So cut that out right now. Leo would love it if you and Ollie were together, and you know it. I’m tired of you using your son as your emotional shield, so cut the crap and admit that you have feelings for Ollie but you’re afraid of them.”
I shifted uncomfortably. “Fine. I’m afraid of the way I feel about him. I’m scared he’ll get too homesick and go back to England.”
“He won’t. It’s a ten-year contract.”
“What?”
“What?” Piper jumped. “Ignore that.”
“No, what did you say?”
“Oh, shit. Dylan told me not to tell you that.” She rubbed her arms. “Dylan helped Seb write it up. He was in here this morning and told me there’s a duration clause. Ten years or i
f the center closes—whichever one comes first.”
“He didn’t tell me that.”
“Did he read the whole thing yet?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”
“There you go, then. He probably doesn’t know yet. You’ll have to ask him tonight.”
“Okay, fine. I need to go to the office and get some stuff sorted. I think my boss wants to see my draft of the paper.” I hugged her. “Thank you for listening to my rant. I really appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome. Now go away and throw your dandruff hair net out.”
“Can I have one of these?” I pointed to the iced donuts on the rack.
Piper glared at me. “I’ll pretend I don’t see you taking one.”
“Goodie!” I grabbed a strawberry one and shoved it in my mouth, heading out the back door.
I still had the damn hair net on.
I pulled it off and shoved it in my pocket and headed for the car, eating my stolen treat.
Piper was right. I had used Leo as an emotional shield as far as Ollie was concerned. I was too afraid finding something I thought would be my happily ever after and losing it again, so I blamed it all on my need to protect my son.
And it was wrong.
It didn’t change the fact that I still couldn’t do it unless Ollie told me he was staying. I wasn’t about uncertainty in my life, certainly not in the matters of the heart. I needed to know he was making White Peak his home.
He was certainly making himself at home in my kitchen lately.
Not that I minded if he did the dishes.
It was nice not to have to do them myself.
I got in my car and headed for the newspaper office. I hoped Ebony wasn’t there. I wasn’t in the mood for her crap this morning. I wasn’t ever in the mood for her crap, but today especially.
I was too busy trying to figure out my life.
I pulled up in my space in the parking lot, sighing with relief when I couldn’t see Ebony’s car. I didn’t need to do much more to the first few pages for a basic layout, then I could send it all to Tori and she would pull the whole paper together for me.
I could hardly believe that my project was almost at its end. It really didn’t seem like I’d been working on it for two weeks—it felt both shorter and longer at the same time. The things that had happened personally in that time had been somewhat of a rollercoaster.
