8. Chapter 8
I’m happy for Spencer and Finn. Those two are going to make great parents. I’m not surprised by their turn of events. Maybe a little by the fact they went the baby route first. I thought for sure Finn would have put a ring on it by now. But when it comes to matters of the heart, this group never goes by society’s standards. Maybe that’s why I’m standing in front of Olly’s house, too scared to knock.
“Uh, you gonna knock on the door?”
I give Spencer the side eye… “Yes.”
It’s not that I dislike babies. I’m sure they’re fine. I’ve just never been around a baby before. Plus, babies are, like, a lot of responsibility. Where I am the most irresponsible person I know. But Olly… When I stood there, watching him with her, I could see it. I can see him as a father .
That’s the kind of person Olly is. A baby gets dropped off on his doorstep, and he chooses to love, no questions asked.
So that leaves me standing in front of his door being an accomplice to Spencer kidnapping Mazie… kinda.
“Jasper, this was your idea!” Spencer whisper-shouts. “I just came along for the cute little baby.”
“I know!” I whisper-shout back.
Just as I raise my hand, the door flies open, and there stands a disheveled-looking Olly with a crying Mazie in his arms.
“Wha… What are you guys doing here?”
“Good morning! And how is my girl Mazie doing today?” Spencer bypasses Olly and pulls Mazie into his arms. “This was all Jasper’s idea… I’m just here for the baby.”
Olly’s eyes widen, and I give a sheepish shrug. “I thought you could use some help at the Farmers Market this morning, and Spencer volunteered to watch Mazie so you didn’t have to bring her along.”
“Oh.”
“Right? Wasn’t that so sweet of Jasper?” Spencer says, moving further into the house. I want to flip him off, but I roll my eyes instead and maybe stick my tongue out.
I thought Olly had enough on his plate. Trying to figure out the logistics of bringing a baby to the Farmers Market doesn’t need to be on today’s list of things.
Olly moves aside, allowing me to enter. “Yes, it was very sweet,” his voice a bare whisper under his breath and I blush. “Are you sure about this, Spencer? ”
“Olly, just let me do this,” Spencer says, swaying Mazie in his arms like a seasoned pro. “Finn is going to come over once he opens the café for me. You just got handed a baby. Give yourself a moment to get situated. Go take care of the things you need to.”
“Yeah, okay. If you’re sure?”
With the flick of his wrist, he gives a little shooing motion. Well, the best shooing motion he can give while carrying Mazie. “Yes. Now, go!”
Olly starts to gather his things, and I slowly approach the little nugget. Very slowly.
“Jasper, she’s not going to attack you.”
I eye her cautiously. “That has yet to be determined.”
She looks cute and innocent in her own baby way. “I’ve heard they projectile vomit. Which is very poltergeist-y, if you ask me.”
“It’s not like her head spins around, for fuck’s sake.”
I poke a baby fat roll, and she giggles.
“Jasper, stop poking the baby,” Olly says, making his way to the front door and sliding into his shoes.
So I poke her again, which earns me another giggle. I narrow my eyes. “We have unfinished business, me and you.” I give her the two-fingered ‘ I’m watching you ’ eye salute, so she knows I’m serious. I’m leery of this one. She could have ulterior motives.
Olly jingles his keys, signaling that he’s ready to go.
The drive starts with an awkward silence. Which, I guess, is my fault. Yes, I know I kissed Olly. Fuck, did I ever kiss Olly. And it felt good, like, I need it to happen again… and again.
I’ve always thought Olly was hot. The more time we spend together, the more I find myself wondering what he would feel like beneath or above me. Does he like to take control? Is he trimmed and soft? Or confident and gritty?
I look over at him, seeing if I can peer into his soul and get a lay of the land, but it’s no use. That man is on lockdown every time I try.
I can never get a good read on him, making me want to pick him apart with a tiny microscope to see what makes him tick even more.
“Do you have a list of everything you need?”
“Yep, I printed it out last night before I left The Diner and I threw the wagon in the back so it would be easier to haul things.”
Of course, Olly is always prepared. He probably has lists upon list of just… lists.
“So, a night with a baby… How did that go for you?”
“Honestly, I’m tired. I must have gotten up every twenty minutes to check on her. Who knew a sleeping baby could be so nerve-wracking?”
I take a hard look at Olly and see the dark circles under his eyes. He looks tired.
The thing about Olly is he takes on everything with no questions asked.
Maybe that’s why I’m so obsessed with him.
For someone who likes their life neat and orderly, but is willing to take in a baby until a suitable home becomes available, that’s an incredible sacrifice. Olly will always step outside his comfort zone when it comes to helping others. He’s selfless.
Growing up, I was not around a lot of selfless people. No, they were all selfish . I was never physically abused, but mentally… Yes, I can see that now. I was never good enough for the few homes I was placed in. Some were looking for child prodigies, some just a paycheck .
Now, when I see someone who’s the exact opposite of the things ingrained in my brain, it makes me want to figure out why and how.
What—or who —happened in Olly’s life that taught him to care and put others’ needs before his own?
And why do I have this underlying pull toward him?
The Farmers Market is already busy when we pull up, which begs the question. “Who the fuck is up this early in the morning?”
Olly laughs. “Everyone, Jasper. Everyone.”
We get out of the car, and I squint into the morning sun as Olly grabs the collapsible wagon, and we make our way in.
I hang back a few steps, letting Olly lead the way, taking in the sight before me.
He’s tall, ungodly tall. He has a baseball cap on backward, with little wisps of hair peeking out underneath. The red-and-black flannel shirt sits just right on his slender shoulders and dark-wash jeans make his ass look delectable. My fingers itch for paints because in this light, he… is… sexy.
Olly makes a stop, inspecting some crab at one of the booths.
“Hey, Joe!”
“Hey, Olly! Can I get you your usual order?”
“Yes, please!”
My eyes go wide with excitement. “Wait, is this it?”
“Yes, this is where I get the crab for the tacos.”
“Are you sure you don’t need to double your order? What if you run out?” I look at the pile of crab, and then back at Olly. “You should double your order.” No, I am not overreacting!
“Don’t worry, I’ll have plenty and if, for some strange reason, I run out before noon on Tuesday, I will set some aside just for you. ”
My breath catches.
Yes, I know. To some, that’s not very swoon-worthy, but to me… It means he understands me on a deeper level… A deep-down love for crab tacos level. “You would do that for me?”
Olly chuckles. “Yes, Jasper. I would do that for you.”
I take his face between my hands and kiss him… again.
He freezes for a brief moment before I feel his hands on my waist, and he gives it a tight squeeze. His hands on me, I want his hands on me, all over me. A rush of adrenaline courses through me, one I’ve never felt before.
I lick into his warm mouth, tasting with each beat of my pulse. I hold back a whimper against his lips. Before things get too risqué in public, I pull away, breaking the kiss.
“Do you like lobster?” he asks, his expression still half-dazed.
Well, now. For once it’s him not making any sense because if kissing me made him think of lobster, I’m doing something wrong.
“Um, do you not see where we live? Shouldn’t it be some kind of crime if we didn’t like lobster?”
“Yeah probably,” he says, laughing.
Joe comes back with Olly’s order.
“Here, let me help you with that,” I say, taking the box from him. I lick my lips at the thought of his crab tacos and the tangy zip of the secret sauce.
“Hey Joe, can I get a couple lobsters, too?”
“Yeah, no problem.”
Olly clears his throat. “Umm, would you like to come over tonight for dinner?”
He looks nervous, like I’m going to laugh in his face or tell him no .
“I’ll never pass up a meal. What are you making me?” I ask, trying to set his mind at ease. He cracks a smile at my joke, then grabs the lobster and we work our way through the rest of the market.
“I’ve been wanting to try a new recipe for The Diner, lobster scampi. I thought perhaps I could try it out on you first.”
I mock gasp. “I’m too pretty to die. Plus, I haven’t decided who I’d leave my baby to,” I say, hugging my white boa jacket.
“I’ll take the first bite.”
“Fine, but at least let me bring the wine.”
“Deal,” Olly says, holding out his hand. The moment mine slides into his, I look down. I’ve never been one to hold hands, but this feels like my hand is supposed to be there, so I don’t pull back.
Eventually I expect him to take his hand away, but instead, he threads our fingers together and continues walking.
Again, this doesn’t feel bad.
Interesting.
“So… wine. Are the old ladies here?”
Olly’s eyes go round like saucers. “I don’t think that’s a great idea.”
Now, if I didn’t know how gossipy those mother fuckers are, I may take his reluctance as being embarrassed to be seen with me.
“Nonsense. Ms. Brandy has the best wine ever,” I say.
“Ugh, fine. But I’m just warning you, this could end badly.”
We make our way over to their booth.
“Did I tell you I saw them at the club the other night?”
“No,” Olly laughs.
“I shit you not. They had on fucking pajamas and fucking slippers, too.”
He pauses, and I can see all the questions .
I slowly nod my head, and Olly busts out laughing. “Oh, my God. Pictures or it didn’t happen.”
“I’ll do you one better,” I say as we make our way over to the two old ladies who keep this town up to date on gossip.
I let go of his hand and he takes the box I was holding in the other before I place both hands on the table. I don’t like letting go; I find I hate it, but when you’re about to interrogate someone, you need to get in the correct headspace. “Ms. Brandy, Ms. Cook.”
Ms. Brandy turns to me. “Oh, Jasper dear, how are you?” she responds as Ms. Cook raises a brow at me.
“Well, would you look at this Brandy? It’s not only Jasper but also Olly… here… together.”
I ignore them both. “Ms. Brandy, Ms. Cook, could the two of you please confirm your whereabouts four nights ago?”
“Well, you should know, honey. Don’t act like we didn’t see you rubbing all up on a nice beefy gentleman at the club,” says Ms. Brandy.
I sense Olly going stiff next to me. Shit, way to go, ladies!
“He wasn’t nice or a gentleman,” I mumble in disgust. “What I was doing isn’t relevant here. Were you or were you not out clubbing in your slippers at one in the morning?”
Ms. Cook puts her hands on her hips and cocks a brow at me. “I don’t see what our choice of footwear has to do with anything.”
I throw my hands up. “Hey, I’m not judging. I’m just looking for the truth.” This is my revenge for a town’s worth of gossip. “Did you or did you not go to the club in your slippers and pajamas?”
This time it’s Ms. Brandy who pipes up. “Yes, we did, and I wasn’t even wearing a bra. ”
Olly and I both shudder.
“Thank you. Knowing all the details wasn’t necessary. Now, what’s the best wine to pair with lobster scampi?”
“Well, look who knows how to use a phone.” Marcus says, as I’m sitting at Ink Me waiting for my next client.
I roll my eyes at the funny man whose sense of humor is the equivalent of dad jokes and Laffy Taffy wrappers.
The memory of Matthew and Jacob patting Marcus’s shoulder and telling him he was the funniest man alive before silently rolling their eyes springs to the forefront of my mind.
“What’s so funny?”
“I’m just remembering how Matthew and Jacob would pretend your jokes were hilarious.”
“Hey, my jokes are on point. Jacob still tells me so every day.”
“That’s because he’s still madly in love with you after all these years.”
Marcus sighs heavily into the phone. “He’s pretty amazing, that man. I don’t think I could even dress myself correctly if it wasn’t for him.”
“Oh, my God. Now you’re just being dramatic. You’re in your, like, early fifties.”
“Yes, well, having to keep up with a man in his thirties would make anyone feel like they’re eighty.”
Touché.
“Someone is going to call you to confirm your appointment.”
“Ok, I told you I would go. ”
“I know, but can you blame me for being slightly surprised?”
No, I can’t. I’ve always been one to shy away from any kind of responsibility.
You spend years in the foster care system being told you’re worthless and you start wondering what the point is. If everyone already thinks I’m wild and irresponsible, is there any reason I should spend all my energy trying to change people’s minds?
I met Marcus, Jacob, and Matthew when I was sixteen and they made it their life’s mission to make me learn to see my self-worth.
It’s a hard one to shake, especially now that I’m trying to do this without having to rely on them to pull me out of the gutter when I fail.
Lately, I’ve been trying to do better, even if it scares the ever-loving shit out of me. I’m tired of constantly moving, and frankly, I’m lonely.
I blame Jaxon and Finn.
“How are the meds working out? Have you been monitoring it?” Marcus asks in his Dr. Withermore voice.
“They seem fine, I guess. I don’t really notice anything. When I took my blood pressure, it was in the range you wrote down.”
“That’s good. Listen…” He softens his tone back to just Marcus, and I know it’s no longer Dr. Withermore. “Jacob has been dying to get you over for dinner one night soon. He says you haven’t been returning his messages either.”
The sound of disappointment in his tone makes me feel like shit. Marcus and Jacob have always had my back since they took me in. Fuck, I really need to do better.
“I’m sorry. I promise to message him back and we can make plans for dinner soon. ”
“Please do, Jasper. You know he’s not happy unless he’s fussing over something or someone. And don’t forget we have the kids’ carnival coming up. Jacob is stressing because the person he hired to make the cupcakes broke her arm and now he has to find someone, and on short notice.”
“I’ll call him, I promise.”
“Great. So, how’s Olly?”
My stomach swoops and my heart beats against my chest. “Pshh, why would I know how Olly is doing?”
“Because I met with Alex today for coffee at Dragonfly and overheard two interesting old ladies talking about the latest scandal.”
Shit.
“What… uh… What did they say?” I ask.
“Oh, just that they saw Olly and you down at the Farmers Market this morning. One of them said something about Olly looking at you like he wants to, and I quote, ‘ eat you like a juicy peach .’”
Do these ladies have no self-control? Oh, who am I kidding? They’re my spirit animals, minus the gossip.
“He does not look at me like that.” But that doesn’t stop me from looking at him like that. His thighs. I dream about those fuckers wrapped around my neck as I suck his dick within an inch of his life.
“I think it’s time you start opening your eyes, Jasper.”
“Yep… Oh, no, you there? I think you’re cutting out. Must… be… a… bad… signal.”
Marcus sighs into the phone. “Fine. Just call Jacob, please.”
“I will.”