by Cindy Kirk
She kissed him back, and the kisses quickly became more urgent and fevered. Then abruptly she stepped back, swaying slightly.
He reached out and took her arm, concern deepening his voice. “Problem?”
“Just a couple shaky knees that aren’t going to hold me up much longer.” She grasped his hand, tugging and gesturing with her head toward the bedroom. “Remember, I’m at my best horizontal.”
Oliver chuckled. Locking his hand around her elbow in a secure grip, he propelled her into the bedroom. Once the door was shut and locked, they tumbled onto the bed.
Though his body responded with breathtaking speed, this time, he took it slow. He wanted it to be perfect for her.
When the last shudder had left her body and she lay spent beneath him, Oliver held her close and savored the moment.
Still, his last thought before he joined her in sleep was that he had to keep up his guard. It would be far too easy to pretend he never had to let her go and start to believe this was exactly where he belonged.
Chapter Fifteen
Oliver pulled the rental car into the long driveway and mentally calculated the hours until he’d be able to leave. He couldn’t use the excuse that their baby minder wanted them home early. Ollie was spending the night with Oliver’s aunt Jeanne Marie.
Though he’d hoped to spend some quality time with his mother this weekend, Oliver never imagined it would involve attending something called a “card party” on a Saturday night. Especially a party held at the home of Shannon’s parents.
The monthly event had been rescheduled from last weekend. Apparently too many of the “regulars” had wanted to attend the Fortune weddings, so they’d voted to move the card party back a week.
Oliver hadn’t seen Shep or Lilian since the night of the wedding. Which meant he hadn’t had to look in Shep Singleton’s face since he’d begun shagging his daughter.
Though initially Oliver had told himself that what had happened after the wedding had been a one-time—okay, a two-time—thing, it had seemed so natural to go to her the next day. By Wednesday, a romp between the sheets had become a daily affair.
Of course, because of his crazy work hours, any lovemaking had to occur before midnight or after lunch. So far that hadn’t been an issue. When he wanted something, he was pretty adept at making it happen.
And Oliver wanted Shannon Singleton. He wanted her with an intensity that continued to amaze him. It wasn’t just physical. Shannon made him laugh and feel things he hadn’t let himself feel in years.
Like with Ollie. Oliver hadn’t realized it until she’d casually mentioned that she’d noticed he never told his son that he loved him.
“It goes without saying,” he said, recalling his exact words. “I take care of him. I work hard to put food on the table and give him what he needs.”
“He needs to hear the words,” she’d insisted.
When he hesitated, she’d taken his hand and marched him into the living room, where Ollie had sat playing with his bricks.
“Tell him,” she urged in a low voice.
Feeling incredibly silly, Oliver had crouched down beside his son. He opened his mouth, then closed it and cleared his throat. Why did something that should have been so easy come so hard to him?
“Ollie.”
The boy looked up, his smile wide. He held up an A brick for Oliver to admire. “See.”
“It’s very nice.” If Oliver had been alone, he’d have simply patted the boy on the head and stood up.
But Shannon stood there, looking at him with such encouragement—and confidence—he couldn’t back down. Not even with his father’s words rolling around in his head.
It really wasn’t a big thing, he told himself, just three little words. People said them all the time, even if they didn’t mean them. But Oliver would mean them. He loved Ollie, more than he’d ever thought possible.
Just. Say. The. Words.
“Ollie.” He gently touched the little boy’s face and gazed into his eyes. “I love you.”
The boy’s smile was like a flash of sunshine warming everything it touched, thawing out a part of his heart that had been frozen for too long. Though Oliver was fairly certain the toddler hadn’t understood what he said, Shannon had been right. He’d needed to say the words.
Oliver scrubbed the boy’s head with his hand and then stood.
“Go ahead and play with your bricks.” His voice had been thick with emotion and had shaken slightly. He’d felt foolish and more than a little angry that he couldn’t seem to control the intense feelings welling up inside him.
Then Shannon had wrapped her arms around him and given him a big kiss. When she’d stepped back, the pride in her eyes washed away everything but joy.
“Earth to Oliver.” Shannon’s voice broke through his thoughts. “I think we should go inside.”
Oliver pulled his thoughts back to the present. “I’m not looking forward to this evening.”
“The fact that you pulled up and have yet to turn off the engine tells me you’re still considering making a break for it.”
She knew him so well. Why did he find the thought so disturbing?
“Forgive me if I don’t want to spend a Saturday playing cards with my mother.” His tone was curter than he’d intended.
Her cheery smile faded and she stiffened. “If you didn’t want to come, you shouldn’t have accepted the invitation.”
“It’s not just that,” he reluctantly admitted.
“What then?”
“It’s your father.”
“My dad?” Her eyes widened then narrowed. “What has he done now?”
“I told him I wouldn’t touch you when—”
“You’ve been doing nothing but touching me for the past week and in every possible place.”
Just the words said in that throaty whisper had him going hard. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“I’d promised him he had nothing to worry about.” Oliver set his jaw in a hard tilt. “I assured him you would be totally safe living under my roof.”
“I am safe living under your roof.” Shannon reached over and wrapped her fingers around his hand.
The simple touch eased a little of the tension that held him in a stranglehold.
“You would never let anything bad happen to me. If someone broke in, you’d protect me. If I hurt myself, you’d tend to me.” Her voice was low and soothing. “I am safe. The sex, well, that’s something private between you and me.”
Oliver frowned, realizing he didn’t like hearing her refer to what they shared as sex. Shagging also didn’t fit.
But that left lovemaking, and that didn’t work either. There was warmth, there was caring, but love wasn’t part of the equation.
“My father will never suspect,” she assured him.
But halfway through the evening, when they were between games and Oliver had unconsciously slid his arm around Shannon’s waist and she’d leaned into him, the look in Shep’s eyes could have cut steel.
Oliver should have known better than to get too close to Shannon. Though he’d never been a demonstrative kind of man, she was very much the opposite. She was always finding excuses to touch him, and he’d discovered he liked it.
He’d also seen how it pleasured her when he unexpectedly reached over and took her hand or gave her a hug when she came in the door. It had seemed such a little thing to do to make her happy.
He’d also been more demonstrative with Ollie, and the boy had become more openly loving with him. Yesterday his son had even called him “Daddy” for the first time. Just recalling the moment brought a lump to his throat.
“When will you be leaving our little town, Oliver?” Shep asked pointedly during a brief conversational lull.
“Oh, Shep, must you bring up
such a disturbing topic?” Josephine’s brows knit together in a frown. “It feels as if Oliver and Ollie just got here, and now you’re bringing up their departure.”
“Can’t ignore the facts.” Shep took a swig of beer straight from the bottle. “Thought I heard you’ll be returning to London in just a couple of weeks.”
Beneath his arm, Oliver felt Shannon stiffen. They’d agreed not to talk about when he would leave, and Oliver inwardly cursed Shep for bringing up the topic. But the man’s comment required an answer.
“Not that soon.” Oliver kept his tone easy. “Closer to the end of March.”
“Several weeks then, but not that long off.” Shep shot a pointed look in his daughter’s direction, as if making sure she was listening, before his gaze returned to Oliver. “You have a girl back home?”
“Pardon?”
“A girl. A woman you’re seeing.”
“No,” Oliver said coolly.
“My son has been much too busy the past year to do much socializing,” Josephine interjected. “His brokerage firm keeps him extremely busy, and now that he has Ollie to care for, I doubt there’ll be much time for dating.”
“Oh, I’m sure he’ll find a few free moments now and then.” Shep took another swig of beer. “Your son seems like the type to take advantage of every opportunity.”
Oliver heard Shannon’s quick intake of breath. If they’d been alone, Oliver would have had no hesitation in calling Shep on his comment. But the rest of those in attendance seemed oblivious to the conversation’s undertones.
To make a scene would serve no purpose, he told himself even as his spine stiffened.
Oliver met Shep’s gaze. They would talk, his eyes told her father, soon.
“Did I tell you Ollie has now started calling Oliver ‘Daddy’?” This time it was Shannon who filled the silence. “It’s so cute. He clearly says ‘Daddy,’ not ‘Dada.’”
“Shannon called Shep ‘Da’ until she was three.”
Shannon gave a little laugh. “Oh, Mother.”
Lilian lifted her hand as if swearing an oath. “True story.”
“Tell them what the boy calls you,” Shep said to Shannon.
The slight pink across her cheeks deepened, but she acted as if she hadn’t heard.
Josephine took a sip of tea, considered. “I believe ‘Shannon’ would be difficult for a child to say.”
Shep opened his mouth.
“He calls me ‘Mama,’” Shannon said, then quickly added, “I think it’s what he calls all females.”
“He calls your mother ‘Lil,’” her dad said.
A lightning bolt flashed in Shannon’s eyes. Oliver couldn’t believe her own father hadn’t noticed his daughter’s mounting irritation. Perhaps Shep didn’t care. Perhaps he wanted to get a rise out of her.
Or perhaps this was his way of making a point. Steer clear of Oliver Fortune Hayes. He’ll eat you up and spit you out and never look back.
Shannon pushed to her feet and flashed a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“I’m really tired. Ollie was up a lot last night.” She slanted a glance at Oliver. “I hope you don’t mind leaving early.”
“Not at all. It’s embarrassing when your own mum trounces you.” Oliver bent over and brushed a kiss against his mother’s cheek. “May we give you a ride home?”
Josephine smiled and glanced over at Orlando Mendoza, who’d been her partner most of the evening. “Thank you, but I believe I have that covered.”
Oliver and Shannon made their exit in record time. Once they were in the car, Shannon rested her head against the back of the seat and huffed a frustrated breath.
“My father was in rare form tonight.” Her lips tightened. “No doubt about it. He’s figured out we’re sleeping together.”
There was no reason to disagree. That fact had been very obvious. “You’re his little girl. He’s concerned I’m going to hurt you.”
“I’m a woman, not a child,” she snapped. “We both went into this with our eyes wide open.”
Oliver didn’t want to ask, but knew the question would fester if he didn’t. “Any regrets?”
The anger fled her eyes, replaced with another kind of heat. She leaned over and brushed a kiss against his cheek. “Only that we’re not at home right now so I can have my way with you.”
* * *
The next week passed swiftly. Shannon kept her days so full she didn’t have time to think. It was at night, when Ollie was in bed and Oliver was working, that her mind raced and she did nothing but think.
She thought about the fact that the Fortune Foundation would soon be choosing its new marketing executive. What would she do if the foundation offered the position to Rachel and not her? She couldn’t continue to stay in Horseback Hollow and simply help out around the ranch. But the thought of returning to Lubbock filled her with dread.
But what weighed most heavily on her mind was the knowledge that each passing day brought her closer to the time when Oliver and Ollie would leave her and return to England.
Barely aware of the fragrant aroma of vegetables and meat cooking in the pot before her, Shannon automatically stirred the soup and blinked back tears.
This time spent with Oliver and Ollie had been the best of her life. Living under the same roof with Oliver had given her extra insight into the man behind the British stiff upper lip. He wasn’t cold and off-putting as Rachel thought. He was a warm, caring man with a huge capacity for love.
At her encouragement, Oliver had become more demonstrative with Ollie. The increased openness was already bearing fruit. Ollie now ran to his father as often as he ran to her. And just yesterday, when Ollie had fallen on the rocky driveway and skinned his knee, his father had been the one he wanted to comfort him.
Oh, how she was going to miss them both. Shannon sighed and picked up the spoon.
She started to stir the soup again and felt a tug at her pant leg.
“Mama, up.” Ollie stood beside her, arms held high.
Setting the spoon down, she lowered the heat even more, then stepped back and lifted the boy into her arms.
He smelled like soap and shampoo. Shannon wished she could hold him tight and never let him go. Instead she smiled. “Are you hungry?”
The little boy nodded vigorously. “Want ice cream.”
“That’s my boy.”
Shannon whirled to find Oliver standing in the doorway, his hair mussed from sleep, Barnaby at his feet.
She glanced at the clock on the wall. “You didn’t sleep very long today.”
It wasn’t even six and he hadn’t gotten to bed—or rather to sleep—until noon. Ollie had been taking an extra-long nap and they’d been...occupied.
Oliver’s normal pattern was to sleep until seven, then they’d have a late supper. She usually fed Ollie earlier, as the child preferred to eat smaller, more frequent meals.
“Couldn’t you sleep?” she asked, when he didn’t respond.
“Too much on my mind” was all he said, but she could see his expression was troubled.
Shannon set a now-squirming Ollie to the floor. He immediately ran to his father.
Oliver scooped him up and a smile lifted his lips. “You getting some loving from Shannon? Smart man.”
The child turned his head and smiled at Shannon. “Mama give ice cream.”
Oliver raised a brow, but there was laughter in his eyes. “Now I see what goes on while I’m sleeping.”
“Give ice cream, Mama,” Ollie repeated, pointing in the direction of the refrigerator.
Neither she nor Oliver paid any attention to the boy calling her “Mama.” After the night they’d played cards, Shannon had tried again to get Ollie to call her by her given name—even a shortened version—but she’d had to
concede defeat.
“Ollie may want ice cream,” Shannon said easily, casting a playful glance at the child, “but he’ll be getting yogurt.”
Oliver grimaced.
“Hey,” she told him, “it’s healthy and it tastes good.”
“I’ll take your word on that.” He sniffed the air. “Whatever is in that pot smells good.”
“Homemade vegetable beef soup,” she told him. “My mom gave me her old bread machine, so I made tomato basil bread to go with the soup.”
“Sounds delicious.”
“I thought we’d start off with a glass of wine and antipasto. Then a green salad, soup and bread.” Shannon, who’d practically kicked and screamed while her mother taught her to cook, had discovered she actually enjoyed cooking...when she had someone to cook for besides herself.
Oliver swung Ollie through the air, and the boy erupted into giggles. When he set him down, Ollie began to protest until Oliver flicked on the television to a Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood rerun.
Mesmerized, the boy crawled up onto the sofa and Barnaby jumped up with him. Shannon got him a tube of yogurt and the child took it, his eyes firmly focused on the television.
“What do you say?” Oliver said automatically.
“Tank you,” came the response from the child.
Oliver moved to the table and pulled out a chair. “I got another email from Diane’s mother.”
Ah, so that’s what has him so troubled.
Shannon went to the counter where she’d placed two wineglasses and poured each of them a glass. She set the plate of antipasto on the table and took a seat opposite Oliver.
As she munched on an olive and sipped her wine, she thought back to when he’d received the first email. It had been right after the card party. Though he’d mentioned it in passing, she could see he was troubled by the contact.
She hadn’t pressed, knowing he would tell her the specifics in his own time, or he wouldn’t. As then, she had to resist the urge to push.
“She wants to video chat with Ollie. Says he’s their only grandchild and they want to be a part of his life.” Anger, at odds with the calm delivery, simmered in the air.
