13. Another One Bites The Dust
13
Another One Bites The Dust
OLIVER
A quick glance over my shoulder showed Mattie still hyper-focused on her homework, but I wasn’t about to back Leighton into a hypothetical corner. Not when a physical one was readily available.
She had to want this— me .
Snatching her hand in mine, I jerked my chin over my shoulder, watching as her eyes flicked to the dining room and back.
“What are you doing?” she whispered, but to my eternal surprise, she didn’t resist, rushing along beside me until we ducked into the butler’s pantry and closed the door. “Ollie…”
I rounded on her, cutting her off as I backed her into the door, a breathy gasp whooshing out of her as her eyes went wide. Planting an arm above her head, I caged her in, relishing the way her gaze darkened. Her cheek was impossibly soft beneath my palm as I cradled her face with my other hand. Leaning in, I brushed my lips over her forehead—just to keep myself from devouring her mouth.
“One night,” I breathed. “Give me one night, Leigh.”
“I did that already,” she shot back, chin tipping up as she groaned when I retreated—denying her more than I was ready to give.
“Not to fuck you, Trouble. Not to worship your gorgeous fucking body.”
“Marginally less interested in this conversation,” she muttered, even as her hands found their way over my arms, my chest, my back—eyelids growing heavy. If desire had a face, it was this fucking woman, peering up at me through those dangerously long lashes.
Chuckling, I murmured, “I want to take you out, baby. I want to buy you a dress that fits like a glove and book a reservation at a restaurant you’ll love. I want to show up ten minutes early because I can’t stand waiting one more second to see you—even though I see you every damn day.”
“ Ollie ,” she whispered, running her nose along mine before making a desperate lunge for my mouth. Laughing, I stayed just out of reach, thumbing her cheekbone and savoring the desperation in her voice.
“I want to bring you flowers. Help you into the car. Eat and drink and dance with you until you’re nothing but putty in my hands. I want to call Arthur to drive us so we can blast your beloved oldies the whole way home—and I can spend the ride memorizing how you like to be kissed. I want to walk you to the door and tell you exactly how much I love being with you.”
I pinched her chin gently, tugging her face to the side and kissing down the line of her jaw.
Chuckled again when she arched off the door. Good . She was just as desperate as I was.
“Then I want to beg you for another night, because one is never going to be enough.”
Her hands fisted in my shirt, roamed down my back to my ass—and fuck me, I nearly lost it when she cupped it. My cock jerked against my zipper, aching for her touch, for her scent, for the feel of her skin against mine.
“Ollie,” she panted, her fingers scraping down my sides.
“Say yes, Leigh.” I smiled against her skin and dove for the curve of her chest, pressing a kiss into the base of that scar—savoring the memory of the last time I’d worshipped it. Any blood left in my brain headed south. Some day, she’d tell me her story—how she got those marks, who I should have killed for causing them. She’d feel safe enough and seen enough to tell me what happened. But I wouldn’t push. Not now.
Right now, I only had one mission. And it wasn’t talking.
“Say yes, beautiful. I’m begging you.”
“ Yes ,” she gasped, yanking my hair until it stung.
I wasn’t sure if she was trying to hold me there or pull me to her mouth, but either way, I sucked in a breath of sheer, relieved want.
“Yes, Ollie!”
I swallowed the plea with a kiss so raw, so claiming, I forgot all the reasons this was supposed to be complicated. Nothing this right could be wrong. She tasted like marshmallow lip gloss and heat and laughter. Electricity shot down my spine when she moaned into my mouth, and I realized she’d stripped me bare—left me exposed like a live wire.
She fit. She’d always fit.
From the moment she’d stomped into Greyson’s house, Leighton Rhodes had been mine . And I was going to make damn sure she knew it.
“Please, Ollie,” she mewled, her breath hot against my lips. “Please.”
“Please what, beautiful?”
“More. I need more of you.”
Fuck, I wanted to give her the world. “Same.”
“Then give me what I want. It’s been six weeks of lady blue balls.”
I huffed a laugh and shook my head. “The next time I fuck you, Leighton Rhodes, it won’t be in a closet.”
“Psh. This is the size of my old bedroom.”
Grinning, I rubbed my nose over hers like the lovesick bastard I was. “Next time I fuck you, I won’t do it just because it happened. I’ll do it because I earned it. Because I showed you that what we have is real—and worth keeping.”
“You say that with a great deal of confidence.”
“I don’t hear you arguing.”
“No,” she admitted, breathing hard. “No, you don’t.”
“I can’t do this anymore. Can’t pretend you don’t mean the fucking world to me. Can’t look at you like I’m not dying to touch you. I’m done hiding—from your family, from Grey, from my kids. Being with you would be the proudest accomplishment of my life, Leigh.”
“I think you kissed me stupid. My mouth isn’t doing the sentence-making.”
When she bit her lower lip, I reached up and hooked it free with my thumb. “When do you leave for Christmas?”
“Monday.”
“So… Saturday?”
“Dinner?”
“Yeah.” I brushed my mouth over hers, smiling when she lurched forward like she couldn’t stand one more inch of space. “I’ll have Emmaline take the kids for the night. They’ll love it. Then, it’s just me and you.”
“Deal.”
“Good.” I took a step back, sliding my hands to her shoulders to hold her in place. Her groan was music, and I wondered how many more sounds I could pull from her when I took my time. Her lips were kiss-swollen, her cheeks flushed, and those wide eyes locked on my face like she didn’t want to miss a second. I reached out to smooth her hair—but she caught my hand and pressed it to her chest, right over her heart.
“You mean it? This. Me. You want this .”
“More desperately than you could possibly comprehend.”
A soft smile bloomed on her lips. “I think I can relate.”
“ Daddy? ”
We both froze at Beau’s voice—quiet, uncertain.
Shit.
We straightened ourselves in record time and rushed out of the pantry. I was still tucking my shirt back in when we rounded the corner and saw him stumble out of the living room.
“What’s up, buddy?”
“There are crabs pinching inside my belly.” His face was pale as paper. “ Daddy? ”
We both sprang into action—me diving for the trash can, Leigh swooping him up in her arms just as I shoved the can forward.
Poor kid exploded like a geyser.
Leighton winced. I wrinkled my nose. But when our eyes met, we both broke into tired smiles and shook our heads.
Well. That took a turn.
“You sure you’re up for a life this glamorous?” I asked as she rubbed his back, trying to soothe him mid-heave. “Kinda a package deal.”
Her answering smile could’ve thawed an iceberg. “So much for pizza night.”
* * *
Tuesday morning, a suspiciously peaky-looking Leighton showed up, insisting she felt fine. Mattie was down for the count by lunchtime.
As I strategically avoided my boisterous Uncle Reggie by ducking out of my office early, my phone buzzed—and I grimaced.
Leighton
Another one bites the dust.
Ollie
Nooooo.
Not you too.
Leighton
Yep. The horrors persist.
Ollie
I’m so sorry.
Leighton
Been a few years since I acquainted myself so thoroughly with a toilet bowl.
It’ll humble me a little.
Ollie
Oh man, I feel terrible.
Leighton
It’s fine, Ollie. I just hope Tillie feels better before Friday.
Mattie had three more performances—Friday evening, Saturday morning, and Sunday night—and missing them would be a brutal hit to her self-image, so for all of our sakes, I hoped so too. I told Leigh as much, then asked if she needed anything. Her response had me chuckling.
Leighton
Just for you to not change your mind when you see me looking like I got hit by a bus.
Ollie
Not a chance, Trouble.
Leighton
You so sure? I have an octagon imprinted on my cheek.
Ollie
What?
Leighton
Tillie decided laying on the floor was a proper coping mechanism, and I have to say she’s on to something.
Ollie
I’ve never been more grateful for the fact that we have a maid, because the sanitization on that tile would otherwise be questionable.
Leighton
My apartment would’ve dealt much stickier results.
Ollie
Do I want to understand that?
Leighton
Hairspray, you weirdo.
Ollie
*Laughing emojis*
See you soon, beautiful.
Leighton
I dare you to say that to octagon face.
Ollie
Bet.
Forty minutes later, I rolled into the driveway with a passenger seat full of crackers, white bread, ginger ale, and applesauce.
A nearly naked Beau was asleep on the couch—Batman underwear-clad ass in the air, face smashed into the cushion like he was trying to break his neck—with Bluey running on the television. There was a trash can lined up in front of him, and a half-drunk sippy cup had tipped over beside his feet, steadily dripping onto our blanket.
I dropped the groceries on the kitchen counter, set the water upright on the table, then coaxed Beau into a more conducive sleeping position and covered him up.
The house was silent until I got upstairs, where the softest voice filtered back to me—serrated at the edges, but no less sweet—and made my heart swell.
Leigh was singing about having a son who was “free as a dove,” and I narrowed my eyes, straining my ears to catch more of the lyrics. Was she seriously singing “Danny’s Song”? God, now that was a throwback. What, did she come from Alaska or through a time machine?
And did she have any idea that my children had never known this kind of maternal affection?
Carly hadn’t sung to them. Hell, I was convinced she hadn’t even held them much when they were babies.
A twinge of guilt threatened my resolve. Because what if I was wrong about this? What if she wasn’t it—and I lost her because I couldn’t get her out of my damn mind?
Gingerly pushing open the cracked bathroom door, I found them right where I’d imagined. Mattie was sprawled on her side across the tile, pale and small, her head resting on her arm. Leighton was slumped against the wall like her legs had given out, eyes closed, a lazy hand circling over Mattie’s back.
“Hey, beautiful,” I whispered as I stepped inside.
Her lips quirked. She finished the verse before shaking her head. “Get out of the danger zone before it’s too late.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Just in the mood to regurgitate your intestines?”
Snorting, I crouched in front of her. “I’ve got an iron stomach. Was never sure how I got it.”
“Don’t risk it,” she said, turning away as I reached for her. When I laid the back of my wrist across her forehead, she sighed, “Oh, man, you’ve got a death wish.”
“No fever. At least that’s something.” I checked Mattie next. A little warm, but not bad.
“I’m alright. Mattie seems to be the hardest hit.”
“She doesn’t get sick easily, but when she goes down, she goes down .”
Leighton smirked. Her glossy eyes shimmered with something dangerous. “I relate to that sentiment on so many levels.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“When was the last time she ralphed?”
“About an hour ago.”
“And Beau?”
“Not since last night.”
“Good. We should be through the worst of it then.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“Think I can move her?”
“ Mmmmmmm ,” Mattie groaned, cracking one eye open like a sea creature surfacing from the deep.
“Anywhere has to be more comfortable than here,” I pointed out.
“I bet you’ll sleep in bed,” Leighton predicted.
“Uhhhhhhg. Fine.”
I looked down at my little girl’s grimace. “Sure. When Leigh says it, you listen.”
“Sorry. I’m just that cool,” Leighton said, fumbling to stand—then pausing. “Oop. Maybe not,” she muttered, eyes scrunching closed as her face went ghost-white. She wobbled, hand reaching out for the counter—and coming up short. I lunged, grabbing her before she could hit the floor.
“Easy, Trouble.”
“‘M alright.”
“Very convincing.”
“I mean it. I’m okay.” Still, she lowered herself to the ground and tucked her head between her knees.
“I’m gonna get Mattie to bed. I’ll be right back, okay?”
“Mm-hmm,” she mumbled, not lifting her head.
By the time I came back, Leighton had gone horizontal, cheeks slightly pinker than before. I knelt beside her and brushed the damp curls off her forehead, smiling as her lashes fluttered open.
“I’m sorry you’re sick, beautiful.”
“I’ll get out of your hair,” she said, “as soon as I can stand.”
“Don’t you dare.” I stroked through her tangled bun, watching her melt a little. “I’m glad you’re here.”
She cracked one eye open to glare at me.
“I mean... if you have to be sick, I’m glad you’re here so I can take care of you.” Not helping, based on how her one eye narrowed. I grabbed a pink washcloth from Mattie’s vanity and dampened it with cold water.
“You have a weird definition of ‘nanny,’” she murmured.
Smirking, I pressed the cloth gently to her forehead. “You stopped being the nanny the moment I parked out front.”
“Mmm.” Her eyes drifted shut again. “Missed the memo. You have two sick kids. You don’t need to worry about me too.”
“Just let me take care of you, baby.”
“I should hate that you just called me that,” she mumbled, but tilted her face up anyway, letting me tend to her like it was instinct.
“ But ...”
“It sounds good when you say it.” Her lips curved, eyes fluttering open and shut like she couldn’t decide whether to fight or surrender.
Well, fuck if that didn’t make me preen.
“Hmmm. That’s good,” I murmured, brushing a knuckle along her jaw. “Take it easy, baby. I’ve got you.”
Leighton
I woke up on a plush bed the following morning, soaking up the drool-worthy scent of him on the sheets. When I peeled my eyes open, I blinked into the cozy warmth of his bedroom. A vague memory of me cradled to his chest as he carried me to bed had me blushing. Nope. Not gonna think about that too hard. I’d probably leave it out of my daily phone call with Mom. No need to plant that idea in her head. Not yet, anyways.
Mouth full of cotton, I reached for the water on the bedside table, grateful to wash away the lingering acid as I steadied myself. Mercifully, my guts gave no hint of ejecting, so I did my business and washed up before tiptoeing through the doorway.
Laughter had me padding downstairs before creeping into the kitchen, where I found Ollie and the kids all huddled around the breakfast table, munching on sourdough toast and sipping ginger ale. Everyone had returned to their healthy complexions and—oh my god—that man’s smile was like a shot to the chest.
Ollie’s sparkling eyes landed on me, and his grin sloped up to the right. “Morning, Trouble.”
The image of him in my bed, inked skin kissed by the sun, flashed through my mind, and my ribs constricted.
One night. It wasn’t supposed to change anything. But as my hand settled on my palpitating heart and he slid out of the booth and closed the distance between us, I realized just how delusional I’d been, thinking I could taste this man and walk away.
Just sex . Lord, I was gonna have to eat so much crow when Alice found out.
The weight of that thought hit me before my focus scraped over the two kids lifting their heads to grin up at me.
Being with Ollie was an all-or-nothing scenario. And as he approached, looking at me like I gave the sun a reason to shine, I realized maybe that was exactly what I needed. His warm palms grazed over my cheeks, like he really wanted to cradle my face, but opted to brush my hair behind my ears instead.
“Morning, Ollie,” I said, beaming up at him as my face heated.
“Feeling better?”
“Much,” I assured him with a nod.
“Good. I don’t like seeing you like that.”
“The feeling’s mutual.”
“I figured I’d work remotely today. Make sure you three are back on your feet.”
“That’s okay. I’ve got it.”
“I know,” he said, that full mouth I should probably stop staring at hooking left. “But I like feeling useful. I’ll whip up something light to ease you all back into the swing of things.”
“You’re too sweet, Ollie.”
“I know,” he sighed dramatically. “It’s always been my problem.”
* * *
By Friday, we were all back in our routines, and Tillie was thrilled she wasn’t going to miss her final weekend of performances. I couldn’t blame her—she’d worked her little ass off, and it showed in every beautiful motion of her performance.
Despite the warning that we’d all been sick, Emmaline was stoked for a night with the kids, and how on earth that woman was the progeny of Reginald Hart, I would never understand. The fact that his travels had kept him out of family affairs these last few months was a gift to all. His sunshine-fueled daughter was a very different story, and the kids seemed just as thrilled about the pairing.
Which left me, standing in front of my bathroom mirror, dressed in a fabric so far above my pay grade I didn’t even have a name for it. Because—in true Oliver fashion—he’d kept his word, and a sexy sapphire-blue dress had been delivered by Freckles Thursday evening.
Normally, I would’ve sent him a middle finger emoji and worn jeans out of spite, but my breath hitched as the silky material spilled out of the bag and I decided I’d humor him. Not only was it precisely my size, but the sweetheart neckline dipped just low enough to reveal my scar before cresting over my boobs like they belonged on display.
I’d dated a few guys in college—all duds, obviously—and two of them had been embarrassed by the puckered line of skin, like my survival wasn’t worth the price of my souvenir. Needless to say, they hadn’t made it through the appetizer course before I moved the hell on.
But not Ollie.
The phantom sensation of his lips over my chest had my breath hitching again, just before a knock at the door sent both my lungs and heart sprinting into overdrive. With one last glance at my reflection, I marched out of the bathroom—grateful Kaia had taken the bait and gone to yoga with Alice—and made my way to the front door.
True to his vow in that pantry, Ollie stood there in his usual navy suit, holding a fistful of flowers so stunning my mouth dropped open.
“For the love of all things blush, what the fuck are those? When you said flowers, I’m not gonna lie—I thought roses or daisies or something normal.”
He grinned. “Any idiot can get roses.”
“And what are these?” I accepted the bouquet, all but burying my face in the giant pink blossoms.
“Ranunculus—”
“Gesundheit.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Sweet pea,” he continued without missing a beat, “and, of course?—”
“Morning glory,” I finished on a ditsy-sounding exhale, fingers caressing the familiar vine. “Ollie, they’re stunning .”
“One more thing.”
“What?” I balked, looking down at the ornate dress painted onto my body, then back at what might as well have been a bridal bouquet.
He laughed and reached into his coat pocket, pulling out?—
“Is that a stuffed avocado?” I blinked, accepting the goofy little smiling plushie, shaking my head.
“In case at any point I make you feel guacward .”
That did it. I lost it, laughing in the most unladylike way humanly possible, which only made his grin widen.
“ So cheesy, ” I finally squeaked.
“You love it,” he countered, and it was rude how good he looked.
“So, this is why your reputation precedes you.”
“Nobody else got an emotional support avocado,” he promised, arching a brow.
“You’re like melty Chicago-style pizza kinda cheesy,” I cackled, rushing to put the flowers in a vase and proudly setting my guacward avocado on the counter beside them.
“And you’re breathtaking,” he said, pressing a hand against the small of my back. When I turned to face him, he’d already closed the distance, fingers raking through my hair as his lips found mine. “Come on, Trouble.”