by Quinn, Taryn
Evidently, it also served as my response when my brother was doing his best FBI stare as he tried to probe into my admittedly screwed-up brain.
But instead of unfolding the shape, I let muscle memory take over. It wasn’t quite the right size for the origami bird. Close enough. Maybe she’d be amused enough to at least open it.
Just to be safe, I scrawled open me on the bird’s beak and tucked it in my pocket.
My brother’s eyebrows fused together. “Did you just write open me on a note to yourself? Folded like an origami swan?”
“Sometimes I do origami for fun,” I said at length. “Don’t always remember to open the notes. Anyway, wonder where Ally is?”
Seth looked over his shoulder. “Hmm, should I go check on her? It’s so close to the baby being born.”
“Yes.” I nodded emphatically. “You should definitely go do that.”
While he was otherwise occupied, I would snag Sage for a moment.
“Be right back.” He slid halfway across the seat and glanced back at me. “You know you want a piece of this action. Being a father means worrying every other minute of the day. Add in a wife and…Jesus.” He huffed out a breath.
My neck tightened. “Yet you wanted a second child.”
“I did, and it was the best decision I ever made, other than marrying Ally. Finally. Took long enough there, huh?” He grinned. “Let’s hope the twin thing doesn’t kick in there for you.”
I couldn’t help shuddering as he climbed out of the booth and walked away.
A father. Me. Who could even fathom such madness? It was almost as crazy as imagining myself a husband. Even watching Seth settle down hadn’t spurred the same desire in me. At least not consciously. I had my niece and soon-to-be nephew and that seemed like plenty.
Until…
Slipping my hand into my pocket over the origami swan, I slid out of the booth. I didn’t have time for useless pondering. I had to find Sage.
After I checked the break room, I headed for the storage room. Bingo. She flew out of the back room, her arms full of paper products and condiments. She noticed me coming down the hall and fumbled the box, sending napkins and coffee stirrers and tiny packets of jam flying. I caught what I could and clamped my hand around her upper arm, keeping her upright.
She quickly shook me off and crouched to grab the few bundles of napkins that had escaped our scrambling. “You’re not supposed to be back here,” she huffed, blowing her bangs out of her face. They were a change to her hairstyle, cut long and low across her brow. I wasn’t one to notice such things, but I seemed to notice far too much about Sage Evans.
“I wrote you a note.”
That stopped her short. “A note?” She peered up at me. “Like in grade school?”
I shoved the jam and coffee stirrers I’d rescued into the box and slipped my hands into the pockets of my trousers. I cupped the swan protectively, already questioning the impulse to give it to her.
She wants a torrid affair, and today you’re trying to give her playground antics?
Rather than respond, I drew it out and offered it to her, wholly unprepared to see her chin quiver as if I’d presented her with a diamond. She dropped the napkins into the box and held up her hand with the swan, eyeing it from all sides.
“Origami,” she breathed.
Not just a diamond, I decided, but the priceless Hope diamond.
“A crude representation in any case.” My chest swelled and I fought to take a deep breath as I rocked back on my heels. Casual. I could do casual. Hell, I was the king of it.
Or I had been before her.
“It’s not crude. I can’t believe you can do this. It’s beautiful.” I helped her to her feet when she started to stand, but she was focused on the note, not me. “I don’t want to unfold it.”
“You have to. It says ‘open me’.”
She grinned. “I see that.”
“You know what I see?”
“Hmm?”
I twisted my hand into her ponytail, probably wrecking it as I drew her closer. She didn’t fight the move, instead going up on her toes to meet my mouth. The kiss was all hunger and slashing tongues and clashing lips, and she moaned as she fisted one hand in my suit jacket. Her other hand was held carefully out to the side, my origami swan precisely balanced in the center of her palm.
Glimpsing that, I laughed. Right into her mouth until she joined me, and we laughed together like idiots.
“I didn’t want to crush it,” she mumbled between teasing little kisses.
“I can make you more, you know. It’s just paper.”
“But this is the first one. Firsts are special.” She eased back enough for our gazes to lock and Christ, my balls tightened like knots from that knowing look in her eye.
“They are.” Lightly, I gripped her throat and rubbed my thumb in circles over her soft skin. “I like giving you all your firsts.”
“Not all. There’s still so many things yet to do and try.” She licked my chin. “But you’ve definitely set me down an interesting path.”
“Interesting, hmm?” I cupped the hand balancing the swan and pushed it toward her. “Open it so I can give you more.”
“Now you’ve intrigued me.” She caught the tip of her tongue between her teeth as she studied the piece of origami. She pulled at the beak, nudged her nail against the folds of paper in search of the proper spot to begin.
Then she shook her head and offered it to me. “You do it. I don’t want to wreck it.”
“Watch. It’s easy to open.” I demonstrated, showing her the scattered words on the inside panels. Each one made my heart pound harder in my head.
“You’re asking me out?” she asked, once she’d finished reading my message.
“Technically, I’m asking you in.”
“To your family’s cabin. For Valentine’s Day. Like a legit date. Romance.”
If she hadn’t been watching me so closely, I would’ve tugged at my suddenly constricting collar. “A reasonable facsimile of it, maybe.”
“Maybe.” A smile twitched on her lips. I’d kissed off half her lipstick. On cue, her hand came up to rub at my mouth. “I need to get higher-end makeup if we’re going to keep this a secret.”
I grasped her wrist, holding her in place. “Or we could say fuck them all.”
Her eyes flashed, and she started to speak before the thunder of recognizable footsteps coming up the hall made us both whirl toward the box of stuff on the floor. We were both pretending to toss stuff in it when Seth came around the bend at the opposite end.
“There you are. Ally is ready to go. She’s having contractions, but not super close ones. Think she needs to just get some rest.”
“Due to your many years of experience as a pregnant woman?” I rose and shifted toward him, my relaxed expression firmly notched in place. “Go on. I’ll take care of the bill.”
“You sure? What happened here? Are you okay, Sage?”
“Fine.” She was still crouched, gritting her teeth in an awkward smile. “Just stumbled with a box. Luckily, Oliver was here to help.”
“Oh yeah? Why were you back here anyway?”
“Looking for you and Ally. Thought maybe she needed to walk a bit. Sorry, I don’t go into women’s bathrooms even for you two.”
Seth chuckled. “All part of the deal, man. I’ll catch you later.”
“Sure thing. Give my best to Ally.”
“Tell her to call me.” Sage rose and dusted off her hands. All at once, she must’ve realized she’d dropped the swan in her haste because her gaze flew to mine, panicked. She glanced around the floor, at the box, near my feet.
No swan.
It must be in the box. Besides, it wasn’t as if I couldn’t whip her up another. I was a packrat, so I was sure I had more receipts in my wallet. If she wanted more oddly shaped swans, I was her guy.
I wanted to be her guy in a lot of ways. But I also wanted her to want that too. As much as I did.
Not
just at night. Not just in dark hallways. Out in the light, where there would be questions and assumptions and we would just have to deal with them.
We. Not only me. Not me pushing for something I could feel she was hesitant on at best.
Seth was already backing up. “Will do.”
I caught her hand in mine the second he disappeared. “I can make you another if—”
“You know it’s easier,” she said quietly, and I knew she didn’t mean finding the swan.
“You know what’s easiest of all?” I backed her against the wall and framed her face with my hands. Her chin quivered and I lowered my mouth to hers, absorbing her exhale as if it was my own. “This.”
I used every bit of my skill to coax her lips to open to mine, teasing her with little flicks of my tongue. Showing her all that we could be without words.
When we finally pulled apart, she was breathless. So was I.
“Say yes,” I said softly.
“Yes.” She cupped my jaw, her thumb rubbing over my damp lower lip. “I would love to spend Valentine’s Day with you, Oliver.”
Eleven
Somehow I didn’t expect to spend my first Valentine’s Day in a sort-of relationship with my head over a toilet.
Bad shellfish was the first thing I told myself.
I hadn’t eaten any, but I had prepared it at work yesterday. Close enough, right?
My next guess was the flu. I was around people day in and day out. Easy enough to catch something. Many things.
Pretty sure I couldn’t catch a baby though.
It was just crappy timing. I mean, logically, who got knocked up the first time they had sex? The odds were probably infinitesimal.
You’ve definitely been increasing your odds by fucking like horny rabbits since though.
Didn’t matter. Babies took time to cook. It had only been a few weeks since the initial boot-knocking in Vegas. What kind of child would make his or her presence known this early?
Oliver Hamilton’s, that who. Pain in the ass that he is.
Hot pain in the ass.
I hadn’t even been at the best time in my cycle for such things. Not the worst either, since I’d just finished my period before vacation.
I was probably worrying for nothing. But hey, I had plenty of time to fret with my head over the bowl. It wasn’t as if I felt up to debating my wardrobe for the night as I had been before my breakfast decided to back up on me.
Normally, I would ask Ally such questions. I wished I could. She was at the end of her pregnancy and distracted, but obviously, that wasn’t why I hadn’t been able to do a full bestie share. I felt so guilty. Part of me wanted nothing more than to giggle over far more details than were necessary—hello, we were with brothers, twins no less, so it was almost an imperative we discuss some of the dirty nitty-gritty—but the rest of me thought it was asking for trouble.
It had already been a few weeks since Vegas. Oliver rarely lasted this long with anyone, unless he only saw them bi-monthly. Not the case with me. We were seeing each other constantly. Every time we met, it was all hungry hands and greedy mouths and rude comments mixed in with sweetness and filthy lovemaking.
I would’ve never said he was the sort of man I wanted. Not in a million years. He cleaned up well, and he had manners galore and very nicely shed them once the bedroom door was closed—and how. But he wielded snark as easily as compliments, and my father wasn’t like that. Seth wasn’t like that with Ally, though of course they had their share of banter. But I’d always expected a relationship to look a certain way, and this was not it.
God, it was so much better than even my wildest imaginings. Who could blame me for being scared to do anything to change it? Right now, things were perfect. Oliver hadn’t yet exhibited itchy feet, and if he did, no one would know we’d ended except me.
That meant no sad looks from my bestie. No worried comments from my parents. No concern from the townspeople who couldn’t help being busybodies.
No sharing excitement with said bestie or mom or townspeople. No laughing over the latest male idiocy or enjoying that feeling of being part of a secret club.
The “I finally have someone” club.
The “oh yes, I do have a date for that party” club.
The “yay, I don’t have to buy my own roses on Valentine’s Day” club.
Although I would probably have to just the same, because…Oliver. But still.
Why should we mess around with a winning formula? Even the secrecy made things hotter.
It also made them more inconvenient.
And upsetting when we had to lie to those who mattered most.
And awkward, since it was getting harder to come up with excuses why we couldn’t do things with Seth and Ally when we were basically using all our non-work hours to fuck and sleep.
More on the fucking, less on the sleeping.
I’d had to hide my swear gallon under an old sweater in the closet. The way Oliver wielded that word in my ear while he was inside me had led to me using it fairly often myself.
The slippery slope I was on had turned into an ice-covered Magic Mountain.
When I was reasonably sure I wasn’t going to toss any more cookies, I stumbled to my feet and into my bedroom. Where I curled up on my bed and, like the mature woman of the world I was becoming, wished heartily for my mommy.
Ugh, being sick alone was no fun. Especially when thoughts were preying on me that this “sickness” would last for a full nine months.
If only I could ask Ally how soon she’d had morning sickness. For that matter, I wasn’t sure she’d had much. She’d talked about carrying crackers just in case, but she hadn’t regaled me with tales of worshipping the porcelain god and hoping for oblivion.
Then again, I was the oversharer of our duo.
Before I could question the impulse, I crawled across the bed and snatched my cell off the nightstand to send her a quick text. Maybe she had some free time today and I could oh so casually inquire what her first signs were of being with child.
Ally replied right away.
I’m @ the real estate office, sprucing it up. This place is 2 boring. So I brought in some silk flowers.
Grinning, I sat up cross-legged.
Should I buy some little heart lights? Or better yet, baby bunnies? Easter stuff is in the stores.
Ally wasn’t as quick to answer that one.
Um, well, maybe if it’s tasteful, but you know Oliver does work here & he’s not really into decorations.
My grin turned downright demonic. Even not being able to see my own reflection, I knew it. Getting to decorate and annoying Oliver to boot? Double-bonus day.
Distraction from possible baby brewing in my belly, check.
I’m grabbing both hearts and bunnies, got it. What about window clings? Or oh, a festive doormat? Maybe both. You know, increase curb appeal.
I couldn’t type fast enough. Ally wasn’t answering me. No problemo. I just wanted to get my ideas down.
Jeez, I hadn’t been this excited since…
Since you used to dream about staging houses for a living, along with running the bed-and-breakfast.
Yeah, well, this was just for fun. Just a way to keep my hands busy since I had too much on my mind and didn’t have plans until tonight with Oliver.
Hmm, they have those copper buckets at the florist’s, the ones right out front? A spray of delicate white blooms would be pretty & they would chase away some of the gloom.
Ally finally responded.
You do realize Oliver hasn’t sanctioned any of these changes, right? He doesn’t even know about my silk flowers, but Seth figured pregnancy dispensation. U don’t have that.
Oh, if she only knew. Thank God, she didn’t. Thank God, I didn’t.
There was nothing to know.
Bad shellfish. That was my story, and I was sticking to it.
Let me handle Oliver.
That made me giggle. Pissing him off was half the fun, since I’d disco
vered he tended to be even more inventive while dirty-talking naked if I riled him up beforehand. Not seriously riled up, of course. Just from teasing him about the lack of a pair of worn-in jeans in his wardrobe, or that he really had Celine’s greatest hits on his running playlist. Or decorating his office in crazy frou-frou crap like holiday lights and maybe drawing a bunny on his desk calendar. Stuff like that.
Nothing like “oh, hey, how do you feel about me having your baby?”
Or “remember that morning-after pill? I swear, the reason I didn’t take it wasn’t because I was hoping to get inseminated with a golden Hamilton offspring.”
I was pretty sure he wouldn’t get riled up sexually after either of those questions.
Another message came through from Ally.
If you say so. So you’re coming by? Lunch after?
Sure. Where do you want to eat?
Oh God, I could eat a horse & its young. Hmm, how about that new Italian place?
I was already salivating. So much for the flu. I’d no sooner finished throwing up than I was ravenous. That didn’t seem likely for some kind of weird food poisoning either.
Lordy, was I fucked. Possibly fucked.
But what I didn’t know for sure couldn’t harm me. In the meantime, there were carbs.
With the hot pumpernickel rolls?
No way. Really? I think I just had an O. Not that I remember what those feel like.
If those rolls are as good as they say, they’re probably almost as good as my last O.
Yeah, no self-generated Os either. I’d have to climb over my belly to even get near between my legs.
I started to text back that mine definitely hadn’t been self-generated—I still didn’t really know how to do those properly, Oliver or no Oliver—when reality smacked me like a cold, dead fish.
