19. Olivia
19
OLIVIA
W hat did you wear to a date with a man who’d already seen everything in your wardrobe? Declan hadn’t been able to get a babysitter for tonight since his normal babysitter was, well, me, so our big date was functionally just another night at home. That should have helped the date feel more casual and low stakes.
Instead, it reminded me how entangled we already were in each other’s lives.
I blew out an anxious breath and changed outfits yet again. I checked the time. Declan would be done putting Catie down for the night in a few minutes. My whole body was churning with a mix of nerves, dread, excitement, and lust.
I needed to talk to a friend. I grabbed my phone, then hesitated. For some reason it felt weird to go to @DBCoder for advice about this. I’d politely declined his invitation to meet in person, and he’d been nice about it, but I wasn’t sure where that left us.
Instead, I called Molly. “Hi. What do I wear to a date?”
“You’re going on a second date with Brendan?” Molly asked, deeply skeptical.
“No, um. This is a first date,” I said.
“Who else do you know… Ohhhhhhhh,” she said, understanding dawning. “Declan finally noticed you have the hots for him.”
I rubbed my hand over my face. It sounded so undignified when she put it like that.
“Wear the sundress you wore when we went out to lunch,” Molly said. “He couldn’t stop staring at you.”
“Thanks,” I said, turning around to rummage for the sundress in my closet, before the rest of her words hit me. “Wait. He couldn’t take his eyes off me?”
“Like a kid in a candy store,” Molly said. “You were so oblivious.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, exasperated. I pulled the sundress over my head and slipped on my sandals.
“I thought you were pretending not to notice because you were trying to avoid dating your boss,” Molly said. “What happened to that, by the way?”
“He kissed me against a door, and I lost my mind,” I said. I groaned. “Ugh, this is a mistake isn’t it? He says we can keep it light and fun, so it won’t end badly. But is that even possible?”
“If there’s anyone who can do it, Declan can,” Molly said. Unfortunately, that wasn’t a yes.
Molly must have sensed my doubt.
“Look, do you want to go on this date?” Molly asked.
“Yes. God, yes.” Just remembering the way he’d kissed me last night had my whole body waking up. I’d never been with someone like Declan. And I couldn’t quite believe he was interested in me.
“Then relax and enjoy yourself,” Molly said firmly. “You deserve something fun.”
I’d barely hung up the phone when there was a soft knock on my bedroom door.
My stomach flipped.
“Olivia?” Declan said, his voice soft and low so as not to wake Catie. “Meet me in the backyard when you’re ready.”
“Okay,” I said.
I dabbed on some minimal makeup, scooped up my curls into a high ponytail, and went outside to see what Declan had planned.
When I took a step out back onto the patio, I gasped. Out in the garden, Declan had set up a gorgeous, candlelit picnic. He was dressed in a white button up and black slacks, but his rolled-up sleeves and bare feet kept the overall vibe casual and intimate, despite the designer clothes. He belonged here, in this twilight garden that looked like something out of a fairy tale. He was anchored in this land, in this community, and I was just passing through.
Light and fun , I reminded myself.
“This is beautiful,” I said, as I approached the picnic.
“Don’t be too impressed,” Declan said. “Maeve made everything, and a friend who works in decorating did the rest.”
I slipped off my sandals and stepped onto the red cashmere picnic blanket. “So you didn’t personally scatter all these white rose petals? There goes my sex drive.”
“I take it back,” Declan lied, his smile boyish and wicked. “If décor does it for you, then I placed each rose petal by hand. Grew them too.”
I laughed.
We stood there looking at each other for a moment, not sure how to proceed. The moment felt achingly fragile.
“Christ, you’re beautiful,” Declan said into the silence.
I blushed, avoiding eye contact as I sat down and arranged myself on the picnic blanket. “You see me every day.”
“I think it every day,” he countered, joining me on the blanket.
Breathing felt suddenly difficult.
Declan cocked his head. “Olivia, do you not know you’re ravishing?”
“Could I have some of that wine?” I blurted, gesturing to the bottle he had propped against the picnic basket.
His smile went crooked. He uncorked the wine and poured me a glass. “So you can’t take a compliment. What else don’t I know about you?”
I thought about the book review blog I ran on Snug. A part of me wanted to tell him because I thought he’d get a kick out of it, given how much he loved reading to Catie. But ever since that bad experience with Eddie, I’d kept a kind of firewall in place—none of my real-life friends knew about my online hobby.
“Nothing important,” I answered him. “I’m just me.”
“Well.” Declan held up his own glass in a toast. “Here’s to ‘just you.’ The woman who wrecked my peace and saved my summer. Sláinte .”
“ Sláinte ,” I repeated, his compliments going to my head faster than the wine.
We talked for a while, about my impression of Ireland, and his plans for the garden, and a company he was thinking of acquiring in Prague. He told me funny stories about growing up in Ballybeith, including a prank he and some other boys had played with a sheep at a football game.
I was still laughing when he opened the basket and started setting out one dessert after another. Cream puffs, strawberry shortcake, lavender ice cream, chocolate tart, and tiramisu. “I didn’t know what you liked best,” Declan explained.
“You could have asked,” I said.
“Where’s the fun in that?” he teased, popping a cream puff into his own mouth.
I tried the lavender ice cream first, because, hello, ice cream . It had begun to melt a bit while we talked, but it was still delicious.
Declan smiled. “I should have known you’d pick the lavender.”
I raised my eyebrows in a question.
“You smell like lavender,” he said. “Your soap, or perfume, or… I don’t know, but you smell like it.” His voice lowered. “I like it. I have since the airplane.”
“It’s my lotion,” I said, my tongue thick. He paid attention to what I smelled like?
He leaned back lazily, a king at ease. “Do you put it on in the morning, right after you shower? Or at night, right before you go to bed?”
I felt flustered. “Why do you want to know?”
He smiled. “So I can fantasize. Obviously.”
I set the ice cream aside, feeling out of my depth. He was so much . I thought I was used to his presence, but I realized I normally saw him when he was handling five things at once. His work, Catie, how best to help his sister. Now Declan was giving me his full focus.
It was heady, but confusing.
“Don’t make fun of me,” I said.
“I’m not,” Declan said, surprised.
“You know what I mean,” I said. “The effusive compliments, the jokes about fantasizing about me…you don’t have to do that. I don’t need the whole seduction routine. We know each other. You can just tell me what you think.”
Declan studied me, a faint frown between his brows.
Then he straightened, slowly and purposefully. I tried to look away, but he leaned forward, gently but firmly nudging my chin up to make sure I saw his face.
“It’s not a routine. I am telling you what I think, Olivia. I’ve been thinking it for some time now,” he said. “The fact that you don’t believe me makes me think you don’t know me as well as you think you do. Or maybe it’s yourself you don’t know.”
I looked up into his dark, haunting blue eyes, and swallowed. I’d never had a man be so open about his desire for me. I thought of the way his hands had gripped my hips last night, of the way his mouth hungered after mine, and shivered.
His expression shifted. “Are you cold, a ghrá ?” He turned around and rummaged for something behind him, then twisted back around to drape a men’s cardigan over my shoulders.
It smelled like him. Warm and safe.
I thought that Declan wrapping me in his clothes might be my new kink.
“Does a ghrá really mean friend?” I blurted. “Because you don’t say it like it means ‘friend.’”
“Ah.” Declan scratched the back of his neck, looking sheepish for the first time tonight. “That’s because it means love . I didn’t mean to say it the first time. It just…slipped out. So, I, er, lied.”
Something glowed warm inside me, as I finally started to believe his compliments.
Declan Byrne had been calling me love . He thought I was beautiful. He knew how I took my tea and noticed the scent of my lotion. He said he fantasized about me, and he kissed me like he was starving for me.
On impulse, I rose up on my knees, so that for once, I was the one who was looking down at him. I cupped his gorgeous face and kissed him.
If last night’s kiss had been a furious storm, this one was soft summer rain. His hands found my lower back, and he guided me into his lap while our mouths played. He tasted like wine, and man, and something intoxicating I couldn’t describe. When I nipped his lower lip, he growled and yanked me closer, so that I could feel his erection hard against my backside.
I can have sex with him right now , I realized. There was no reason not to, other than the ones I’d already ignored by going on this date in the first place. Catie was asleep. Declan’s backyard was private. We were alone under the stars.
There were no more excuses to be had, and my body knew it.
Declan’s thoughts seemed to follow the same path as mine, but he made one more effort to be a gentleman. “We don’t have to,” he said, his voice ragged.
“I know,” I said, and pressed my lips hard against his. I kissed him as if that was the last thing I’d ever do, every fiber of my body craving the heat of his body. Sweet mercy, I couldn’t even think straight. Had I ever lost control like this?
Our embrace turned hotter. The cardigan slipped from my shoulders, and I unbuttoned his shirt far enough to run my hands over his firm, lightly furred chest, and clutch at those strong, broad shoulders.
“Is that…is that all right?” I panted.
In answer, he tugged the neckline of my sundress below my breasts, swearing gratefully when he realized I wasn’t wearing a bra. My breasts spilled free, and a shiver ran up my spine when he ran his thumb over one hard nipple. The way he caressed my body was downright worshipful. Then he bent and sucked the tip of my breast, and any remaining doubt about how far I’d let him go flew out the window. I wanted more. I needed more.
More of this overwhelming pleasure. More of him. More of everything.
“Please,” I begged. “I need…”
His smile was cocky but warm, appreciative. Like he knew he was in charge, but he didn’t take it for granted. “Where do you need me, Olivia St. James?” His lips found the place on my neck I liked and lingered until I moaned. “Do you need me here?” He pinched my nipple, rolling it between his fingers, and I squirmed helplessly on his lap. Heat spread out from my chest, maddening tendrils of lust swirling down my body. “Maybe here?”
“You know where,” I said, all that heat going to where I needed Declan the most.
His hand slid lower, edging under my skirt, until he was stroking my damp panties. I tipped my head back and gasped. “Maybe it’s the language barrier,” he said, teasing me with his words and his fingers. His low voice in my ear sent shivers down my back. “You’d call this your pussy. I’d call it your cunt.”
The crude words were one more naughty sensation pushing me toward the edge. And I liked that, the feeling of knowing there was an edge and that I was dancing so maddeningly close to it. This felt like sheer abandonment, and I loved it.
“Whatever you call it, it’s lovely,” Declan said, his voice ragged. He tugged my panties aside, so that he could touch me directly, and I nearly expired on the spot. “You’re so damn lovely, Olivia. I can’t wait to lick you here. Fuck you here.”
“ Declan ,” I whimpered, rapidly losing my ability to say anything else. There was a buzzing in my ears, and stars seemed to dance in front of my half-lidded eyes. I was high on Declan, that had to be it. He stroked me, and my breath grew ragged, until the buzzing stopped. Then it started again.
Wait. That buzzing wasn’t in my head. It was a phone.
“Is that your phone?” I was so out of it that my voice sounded foreign to my ears.
“Hmm?” His eyes were dark and hungry in the candlelight. He was so turned on he looked drugged, and I felt a rush of feminine satisfaction.
“I think your phone’s buzzing,” I said.
He blinked, coming back to the earth. He fumbled in his pocket and checked the screen.
It was the number for his landline. Declan didn’t use it much, but he’d made a point of showing Catie how to use it in an emergency.
Immediately. his demeanor shifted. He answered, worried. “Catie? Sweetheart, are you all right?”
“I can’t find you,” Catie all but sobbed. “I can’t find anyone. Miss Olivia is gone. Mom was gone in the dream, and now you’re gone?—”
“I’m out in the backyard,” Declan assured her, moving me off his lap and hurrying to his feet. “Miss Olivia is too. But I’m coming right back in. Take a deep breath. It’s okay, love.”
He rushed toward the house, then looked back at me, conflicted. “I’m sorry, I’ll clean this up?—”
“No, go,” I reassured him. “I’ll take care of all this,” I said, gesturing to the picnic.
His lips thinned, like he wanted to say more. But then he nodded once and hurried inside. There was a scared little girl who needed him, and that trumped everything else—as it should.
My heart twisted in my chest as I watched him go. My body was cooling down, but my emotions weren’t. Dating Declan was fun. But I was fooling myself if I thought I could separate the playful, suave man who’d courted me from the flawed, real, deeply responsible man who’d do anything for the people he loved.
I packed up the picnic and blew out the candles. It was cold, so I wrapped myself in Declan’s cardigan before carrying everything inside. I was putting the food in the fridge, when I had an idea.
Maybe Declan was on to something when he’d mentioned spoiling Catie rotten.
I poured a glass of milk, then I took the chocolate tart and tiptoed upstairs.
Catie’s door was open, and the light by her bed was on. Declan sat on Catie’s bed, with Catie doing her level best to burrow into his chest while he patted her back.
“It’s all right,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “It was just a bad dream. Your mom is safe, and so are you.”
“I can’t get it out of my head,” Catie whispered.
“Maybe this will help,” I said. “Have you ever had dessert in the middle of the night?”
Catie’s eyes went wide. She nodded slowly. “Sometimes. With my mom. If we can’t sleep, then she claps her hands and says it’s a Magic Night and we get up and eat cookies.”
I smiled. “I think tonight is a Magic Night. I don’t have cookies, but I have chocolate.”
Catie perked up and reached for the plate.
I set the milk on bedside table and handed her the plate. She dug in, cheering up a little with each bite.
Thank you , Declan mouthed, as I retreated toward the door.
Catie looked up. “Can you stay?”
Her small voice cracked my heart open.
“Sure,” I said, sitting down next to Declan.
“You could have some too,” Catie said, generously offering me a handful of chocolate tarte.
“Thank you,” I said, delicately accepting her gift.
“You can share it with Uncle Declan,” Catie instructed.
I bit back a smile. If her bossy side was coming out, she was feeling better. Declan’s arms were full of gangly niece, so I fed him, holding up a bit of the messy, crumbling tart to his lips.
Heat flashed through me when his lips touched my finger.
I don’t think I can keep this light and fun , I realized. He was too much. Too perfect. Too him.
But I didn’t walk away. Instead, I kept vigil with Declan, until our girl was tucked back in bed, and smiling in her sleep.