Everything I Dreamed (Everhope Road #2)

21. Hailey

21

HAILEY

T his is it.

An old lady sipping her tea and eating cucumber sandwiches will decide my fate. I should be nervous, and I am. It’s just…

Oliver walking next to me with his fingers grazing my arms scares me more.

For the past few days my mind has drifted away from real estate, and in place, it’s about my husband. The one that has me feeling as though we are on a shaky boat.

Which is perhaps fitting as we now walk down the hall on a river boat, albeit no longer functional. Still, my feelings shake. They bounce back and forth between my belly that does somersaults before rocketing right back to that place between my breasts that stores a message in my heart.

“It’s fine,” Oliver whispers to me with that gentle smile that sometimes doesn’t appear as just affection; it’s something more powerful. A determination to ensure me that he won’t fail me. And no longer on the side of best friend’s little sister, we crossed that line a few weeks ago.

His commitment to this meeting has him wearing a mint-green polo shirt that is fit for a golf club, but that is beside the point.

I smile weakly at him as we enter the private corner room overlooking the river.

The older lady immediately smiles at us. She has gray hair that stops at her shoulders, and she’s sporting a sequined sweater even though it’s the middle of summer. “Hello. You must be Mr. and Mrs. Oaks. Please, have a seat.”

Nobody has called us that yet. It’s an odd sound to my ears but not in a bad way.

“Hello, it’s nice to meet you.”

“We’re happy to be here.” Oliver pulls out my chair, and I get comfortable while he sits in the chair next to me.

I have to blink a few times as I take in the items on the table. A pyramid tray with an array of little triangle sandwiches, fudge in cupcake paper, lemon bars, little muffins, a pot of tea, and the list could go on. My lips roll in to stop my laugh, purely because this must be Oliver’s idea of hell.

The waiter arrives as fast as light to pour some tea into the cups on our saucers. Truthfully, I never knew the River Bell did high tea. I guess they will cater to any requests.

“This must be a little traditional, but my father always told me to become acquainted with whomever you conduct business with, even if it’s for a sale of property. And my grandmother insisted that it should be over afternoon tea.”

“It’s a wonderful idea,” I say, and in principle, it is. But right now? This is a pain-in-the-ass request that has uprooted my life.

But then Oliver throws on the charm and offers Ingrid the pot of sugar with that suave smile that has my mother wrapped around his finger, and quite frankly, many women. He has no problem going overboard, hence why there is a ring on my finger.

“We understand that you live down near Decatur. It must be a bit of a drive,” Oliver says.

“I went to an antique market in the area so the drive would be worth it.” She scoops a spoon of sugar into her tea, stirring it, then sets her spoon down and glides her sight between Oliver and me. “I must say that this is a pleasant surprise. When Molly phoned to tell me that you’re married, it made me excited that we could perhaps proceed with the sale. I’m just surprised. I was under the impression that you were not which is why I needed to seriously consider the orthodontist who would like to set up his private office.”

“Well…” I smile tightly.

The sudden feeling of a warm hand on mine that is resting on the table near my fork relieves me.

“We’re private people and have been dating for a while. We’ve always wanted a low-key wedding, and we’ve kept it to ourselves. Romance, right?” Oliver explains.

“Well, that is true. Tell me about yourselves.”

I grab a sandwich from the bottom of the tray to set on my plate, it appears to be egg salad. “I’m a teacher over at Lake Spark Academy, and Oliver works in law. I’ve kind of had my eye on starting a preschool. Teaching middle-school social studies is fun and all, but four- and five-year-olds have a different type of curiosity, with playful ways to discover things.”

Ingrid beams a smile. “That’s wonderful to hear. You’ve always lived in Everhope?”

I nod. “Mostly. I went away for college and then worked at a school in the Chicago suburbs before returning.”

“And I’m the fool who ignored her when we were younger but then noticed her when she returned. The moment I saw her walk into Foxy Rox, I knew I was a goner.” Oliver’s words strike me, partly because it’s not a lie, I can tell, and I love hearing it.

“What will you do in the summer when it’s school vacation?” she asks before she sips her tea.

“I want to run a summer camp perhaps. Preschool in a way but more games. It’s really so parents don’t get stuck without somewhere for their kids to go during the summer while they still work. Oliver is always busy, especially June and July, so it would keep me occupied.” Because clearly, I’ve apparently been planning the logistics with a husband that might divorce me once my name is on that contract.

He rubs my shoulder with one hand. “Hockey season is over, but it’s when we acquire and trade most players.”

“Hockey?” Her ears perk up.

“Yeah, I work for the Spinners.”

Her hands find her heart. “Believe it or not but this old lady loves hockey. That Connor Spears is such a looker,” she gushes.

Oliver chuckles, and a laugh clogs my throat.

“And kids? I know I shouldn’t be asking that since times have changed, but I’m trying to understand the long-term. I’m aware that the sale would mean that my family no longer owns the building, but it would break my parents’ and my late grandparents’ hearts if I sold to a couple that would only end up selling again soon. Even marriages end, but when you are married then you have another wall to break before you can give up.”

Please, Hailey, don’t throw up. It’s completely true, and hearing the obvious brings chaos inside of me.

“Uh, wow, what a question.” Oliver clears his throat. “If it happens then probably two.” He cocks his head to the side. “Three is a better number. We have to get a dog before that, and Hailey has to first mov—ah.” He quickly realizes he was about to say that I need to change my address to his. “Move all of her crafts sitting in the living room to the new preschool. Yep, a lot of crafts.” Before he can say anything else, he picks up his drink.

My face, thankfully, remains poised. “It drives him crazy. Clay, markers, crayons, paints. Did you know there is glitter paper these days?”

Ingrid studies the little cakes before taking her pick. “I have grandchildren, so yes. But business—I’d need to discuss my decision with my family, but we could get paperwork in order and then you would have the building quite soon.” Her attention turns to Oliver, ignoring me. “I would assume you will handle the finances.”

My mouth nearly drops. What time warp am I in? Did I get shipped back a few decades?

Oliver controls his own disbelief and rolls his lips into his mouth to give himself a second. “You know, I do enjoy taking care of Hailey. Anything she needs.”

Ingrid is satisfied with his answer and takes a bite from her little sandwich. “That’s wonderful to hear.”

“ But,” I intervene. “That also means that I take care of Oliver, which is all the more reason that the preschool will be a success. He won’t have to worry about me and the stress that entails. I’ll do it all, and he can swoop in with a cape when I need a hand.”

I’m independent and I want her to know that. However, everything that I just said is support that I believe I have. A balance, I guess.

It’s impossible to read Ingrid’s face right now. I’m not sure she even heard me as she seems more occupied with her sandwich.

“That’s what I love about her.”

My head whips in Oliver’s direction, and maybe my eyes turn into the size of baby saucers. Love. Except, he meant it as a figure of speech. Nothing special. No different than someone who loves flowers or the color blue.

Now isn’t the time to remember the number of times over the years that I’ve dreamt of this guy and every possible way he could say those words I wanted to hear, and touch my skin the only way that would make me come alive.

How is this meeting about a damn building untangling me?

Did the devil just want to pop in and say hello? Because his powers are coming through in the form of Oliver’s fingers under the table feathering my skin, right above my knee. He probably wants to soothe me, but I just tremble.

“As mentioned, I need to discuss with my family and then I’ll be in touch with Molly.”

Taking a deep breath, I pull my concentration forward. “Do you have a timeframe for that?”

“Is there a rush, dear?”

I nibble my bottom lip as I bow my head with one shake. “I guess not. Even if the sale goes through, I still plan to return to Lake Spark Academy in September. It will be a while, anyhow, until renovations and all of the registrations and checks with the state go through.” Oh shit, did I just ruin my chance? “I mean, the renovations are to spruce things up and ensure the space is utilized correctly for teaching and kids. It is a lot of space.” Flattery might not get me far.

Ingrid tips her chin up with a little hum. “Would you keep the original features?”

I hold my palm up to encourage her to relax. “Everywhere I can. It’s just the building has been empty for a little while and electrical will probably have to be updated, along with windows.”

“My family was not ready to let it go.”

“And I appreciate the sentimental value. I promise, I’ll do all I can. The garden will be the same, just a little sprucing up.”

“Will the gargoyle stay? It’s impossible to move.” Her tone is a little tart.

My brows rise, as I forgot about that. “It might scare the children,” I reply mundanely. Also, it’s probably cursed and scares the shit out of me. She doesn’t seem impressed. Hmm. “But.” I snap my fingers and rustle up some enthusiasm. “I could dress him according to our current themes. A little mascot maybe.”

That seems to help.

“Hailey will actually add a lot of wind chimes to the garden. It sweeps in luck and fortune,” Oliver adds.

I turn my view to my husband and my eyes lighten. It’s the way he says it that uplifts me. Sweet and reflective. A flashback from our road trip comes to me, and I cling to how the excitement felt then and how the fondness for him now mixes with that.

He winks at me, and I half-smile.

“Well, you two. I really do appreciate meeting face to face. You’ll hear from me next week. Now, shall we leave business aside and enjoy all of this food?”

All I can do is hope, as there is nothing I can do now.

Oliver blows out a long breath as I enter through his garage. After another hour of listening to Ingrid talk about her time in England and her grandkids, I feel extremely bad that he got dragged along.

He went home, and five minutes later, here I am after dropping my car off at my house and now sneaking through the garage. Oliver is in the kitchen grabbing two beers from the fridge. He’s now in a different pair of jeans and a dark tee.

“Again, I’m so incredibly sorry.” I’ve been apologizing profusely.

His cheek lifts from his amusement. “Why? It was funny and also a necessity. You don’t need to apologize.”

I take my spot leaning against the counter, hearing the pop of the bottle caps and click of them on the counter. “Still… anyhow. I don’t want to talk about Ingrid anymore, as I’ve done all I can do.”

He hands me a beer, and we clink our bottles before taking sips. “That’s a good approach.”

His gaze feels heavy, and it causes my brows to lift in caution. “Why do I feel like there is something you want to tell me?”

The rumble in his throat doesn’t sound comforting. “Right, so funny thing.” He sets the bottle on the counter and wets his lips before tilting his head to the side. “My brother knows.”

“Knows?”

“About us… the marriage part.”

“What?” I squeak.

He steps forward and touches my arm to calm me. “Relax, he won’t tell anyone… I think. No, he won’t.” Oliver is trying to convince himself; then again, Carter doesn’t seem like someone who would particularly want to involve himself with spreading the latest gossip.

I stand still, pondering what to do or say. “Okay. And?”

Oliver gentle tilts his head to the side. “It doesn’t matter. We go on as usual. I just thought you should know, and soon you will get your preschool, anyhow. By then, we will have everything figured out.”

“What exactly?” I dare raise the question, and it’s a dangerous one. We both keep getting lost lately in thoughts that neither of us want to share with each other.

Right now, we both seem to still take that stance.

“Hailey, let’s not think. Just celebrate that we survived a high tea with an old lady who probably has a cat at home and plays bridge.”

That does make me smile. “A story that will stay with us.”

Oliver steps in front of me and in a flash raises his hands to plant home on the sides of my face, holding me in place to ensure my eyes can’t escape his. That pounding in my chest returns with a pattern only for him.

The heat in his eyes will cause me to simmer all night.

He enjoys being in control, but this time, I won’t let him have the first word. “It will stay with us,” I rasp.

The corner of his lips pull an inch from my words before he slams his mouth down on mine, the flames inside me now on full blast.

My tongue delves into his mouth for a flick while I wrap my arms around his neck. My insides are turning to liquid because his hand is running down the side of my body and stopping right at the hem of my dress. His fingers drag the fabric up, causing agony because I want him to move faster. The ache between my legs is pounding because we’ve escalated at record speed.

His lips rip away from mine, and he spins me around with a little force. Pushing against my back, enough for me to fall forward with my hands landing on the counter. This is the position of his choice, and I love it, which is why I tilt my ass back and place my forearms on the counter.

I feel the snap of my panties as he pulls the waistband. A little murmur escapes me, and I bite my bottom lip. My hair is wild and becoming a mess around my face. It’s distracting but not enough, because Oliver just managed to rip my lace panties.

Sensitivity overloads, and there’s a tingle in my nipples, wanting to be traced. I try to reach behind me, to touch him, but I fail and my upper body flattens against the surface with his hand between my legs.

“You drive me fucking crazy. You know that?” His lips graze the back of my neck, and I let a moan escape when his finger swipes along my pussy.

It’s an inferno. An uncontrollable rage that is a passion I’ve never felt before.

I tilt my ass to press against him, offering more space to touch my clit and make me wild.

He notices, and I hear a chuckle buried in his throat.

“Oliver.” I feel my pulse soaring.

Oliver encases my body when he leans over. His stomach to my back and his hand shackling my wrists above my head. I ignore the feeling of the cool quartz underneath me or the fact it’s hard and pressing a little against my hip bones. It’s all forgotten when I attempt to glance over my shoulder, but halfway our mouths fuse for a kiss. Slowing us down as his fingers play with me, stroking me. I’m surviving on his touch alone.

“Please,” I beg.

“Please what?” he husks then draws his mouth down my neck, sending a tickle down to my toes.

“Fuck me.” I’m breathless.

He surprises me when he lets my arms go and stands up, leaving my body in a 90-degree angle. He squares my hips only to give my ass a little pat, as though it’s the ending of what is transpiring in here. He says nothing, but I get the drift and stand up, slowly turning to see his stoic face.

I can’t question what is happening because he answers me by returning his hand to my waist. “Tell me and answer me honestly,” he says, adamant. “Do you prefer that I fuck you right here on the kitchen counter because we are trapped in a moment, or would you rather we go to my bedroom where I lay you down because we’re trapped in something else that we are too scared to admit?”

That’s my option. Hard and fast. Or slow because it means something.

It’s an answer that I’m scared to admit, but he wants the truth. “Your room,” I whisper and attempt to avoid his gaze that spears into me.

He places a finger under my chin to lift my gaze back up. “Then don’t make me ask.”

I sweep up his other hand and intertwine our fingers. With no words, I lead the way. Every step to his room builds the anticipation.

The moment that we’re in his room, I turn to see his eyes gleaming with a look I haven’t seen before. He steps forward, and I step back, then he steps forward and again I step back. All the way until the back of my knees hit the mattress and I drop down to sitting. I’m unable to tear my eyes away from his fierce gaze that has me entranced.

Oliver pulls up his shirt and throws it off to the side. I don’t wait for instruction or his hands, I strip until I’m naked. Lying back, my hair splays against the duvet, and I watch intently as he undoes his jeans.

The moment he is over me with my thighs resting against his hips, I realize that this won’t be like the other times.

My hands float around his back, occasionally brushing his skin, our mouths chase, and we’re in no rush.

His cock rests against my pussy, and although desperate to lead him inside me, that’s not what this is.

There’s a slow and silent awareness of indescribable feelings we share, yet an unwillingness to say a word except one another’s names.

The feeling of his palm covering my breast only makes me needier and drenched. He pinches one nipple, and it nearly sends me over the edge.

We do this for a few minutes, taking our time to explore one another. Finally, when he guides my thighs wider, I know we’ll be rewarded for our patience.

I shift my upper body up and lean against my elbows to watch him align with my pussy then slide in. My head falls back, a gasp leaving my lips because it feels good to be filled up by him.

He groans once then begins to find a pace as he drives in and out of me, his cock glistening from my arousal.

“A fucking perfect fit.”

“Mmm. Deeper,” I request.

He listens, and I wail when he hits me so deep I think I might break in two.

As our skin slaps against one another with every thrust, our foreheads meet, and our open mouths don’t touch; instead, we are sealed by our eyes.

The feeling of something clamped around my finger reminds me that I’m wearing a ring.

“Hailey, I plan on doing this all night. Do you understand?” His voice is thick, and I hear the firmness of his tone.

“Yes,” I whisper.

Tonight is ours, which is why I reach behind his neck to pull him down to me. He stays inside me but stills as we kiss.

“You’re something, you know that?” he says softly against my lips.

I squeeze tighter around his length. “Only because I’m with you.”

Our eyes connect in recognition of the underlying meaning.

Which only leads us into moving in sync with one another, hips rolling and our skin beginning to shine with sweat. We continue this way with no perception of time.

I’ve never taken ecstasy, but I would assume it’s like this.

It feels as though the room is floating colors, but I’m in the safety of his arms as my entire body begins to shake, and I’m so incredibly lost in the feeling that I have no idea what is around me or grasping that I’m going blind.

I’m not sure that I’m even in my body.

It’s only when I come back down to earth and steady my breathing, I remember that the man resting his head against my chest, with the pounding of his heartbeat against my skin, doesn’t just have a wife.

He has me.

Every single part.

I wonder if he grasps the magnitude of that.