9. Oliver
Oliver
Thankfully I’d left my drink on the table.
Otherwise I might have sprayed gin and tonic all over the matching white sofas in Trinity’s mother’s formal living room.
What had prompted her to utter the “L” word?
Even in our current situation where she’d just been responding in kind to my lame, flirtatious banter, it still caught me off guard.
I covered my mouth with my fist and cleared my throat.
“What?” she asked, giving me a playful grin. Now that we weren’t surrounded by her family, her good mood seemed to have returned.
As we passed through one pristine room after another, I tried to take in the sheer size of it all. My entire childhood home could have fit in less than half of the first floor. I loved the house I grew up in, but it couldn’t hold a candle to this place. Hell, not even a tiny tealight.
She led me through the kitchen where the server I’d seen earlier worked beside the chef.
She hadn’t been joking about the food. I recognized the unmistakable scent of rosemary and lamb.
My mouth watered. It had been at least a year since I’d had properly prepared lamb, something my mum made all the time back home.
Maybe I’d be able to stick around through dinner after all.
“And that’s my dad’s office over there, and my mother’s sitting room which is next to their bedroom. I don’t suppose you want to see the garage?” She waved a hand in the air.
“Where’s this trophy case?” I asked. The shock and awe of being surrounded by so many priceless things had started to wear off.
It wasn’t even the value of their belongings—it was the sheer quantity.
Every flat surface held some figurine, piece of crystal, or fragile collectible.
The Ryan family had more trinkets than the museums I’d visited in Christchurch when I was a kid.
She swatted at my arm. “You really don’t want to see that, do you?”
“Of course.” I tugged her toward what I thought was the front door where we’d come in. “Is it by the door?”
She planted her feet. “No.”
“By your dad’s office?” I turned, ready to head in the opposite direction.
“Wrong again.”
“Is it upstairs?” I glanced at the closest staircase, letting my gaze travel up and around to where it met the other side.
All of a sudden, I wanted to see the bedroom where she’d grown up.
Trinity was so unlike the rest of her family, and even her best friend.
How could she have grown up in this environment and turned out so different than her siblings?
Her bedroom had to hold some kind of clue.
“Definitely not upstairs.” She folded her arms over her stomach.
“Is that where your bedroom is?” I lifted a brow.
She eyed me through a lock of hair that had fallen over her eye. “Maybe.”
“Does it have posters of your favorite boy bands plastered all over the walls?” I put a hand on the railing and a foot on the first step.
“You’re not going up there.” She hit me with a glare that could’ve melted steel.
If I’d been a different man, a wiser man, maybe even a less stubborn man, I might have heeded the warning signs. Instead, I took her resistance as a challenge. “You wanna bet?”
She scoffed. “No way. Guests of the opposite sex aren’t allowed on the second floor. That’s always been one of my dad’s rules.”
I stepped close. Close enough to see the tiny specks of gold in her eyes. Close enough to breathe in the scent of her perfume. Close enough to see goosebumps pop up along her arm. “You don’t strike me as the rule-following type.”
“Oh, fine.” She laced her fingers with mine and dragged me up the stairs. “Two minutes. You have two minutes to walk through the hall and then it’s back down to dinner, okay?”
Two minutes would be long enough to do what I’d wanted to do since I picked her up earlier that night, and maybe more if she’d let me.
We passed open doorways in a blur. I tried to peek in but all I caught were glimpses of dark wood, plush creamy carpet, and patterned wallpaper.
It was everywhere. Her mum had spent a lot of time—and most likely a lot of cash—decorating.
I thought of the worn wooden floorboards in the farmhouse back home…
the glow of the hearth this time of year…
the big table my dad had built with his own hands.
How stark it appeared in contrast to the lush surroundings of Trinity’s home. It all seemed a world away.
“There. Now will you stop trying to renegotiate the bargain and go with the plan?” she said as she yanked me through one of the open doorways and stopped.
The wallpaper in the room was tone-on-tone pink. Vertical stripes ran from floor to ceiling: light pink, dark pink, narrow, wide, narrow, narrow, narrow, wide. I could’ve made myself dizzy trying to count the stripes.
“Wow.” There wasn’t much else to say. Lacy pink curtains in the windows. Pink and white fluffy pillows at the head of the canopy bed.
“Are you happy?” She rounded on me, that glint in her eye again.
“This is your room?” I asked.
“Was.”
“But you grew up here, right?” I glanced at her for confirmation.
She nodded. “Pink, pink and more pink. I was the baby. Mom wanted to keep me that way. Still does, if you ask me.”
I tried to reconcile the frilly decorations with the sharp, spirited woman in front of me. I didn’t know her well, not really, but I could tell her childhood room was a poor reflection of her own personal tastes.
“Where did you hide the stuff you liked?” I scanned the room, looking for any sign of rebellion.
She jerked her head toward a door on the opposite wall. “Check out the closet.”
Of course. She’d have needed somewhere to express herself. I reached for the doorknob, but a voice in the hallway called out, “Trinity, time for dinner.”
“Maybe next time, huh?” Her hand closed around mine.
“One peek?” I asked.
“Your two minutes are up.” She shrugged.
“Well damn, that means we don’t have time.”
“For what?” Her brows furrowed.
“A pre-dinner kiss?” I reached out to brush the escaped strand of hair from her face.
“That could be a problem.” She clucked her tongue.
How did she keep a straight face while I couldn’t help but grin? “Maybe next time?” I asked.
“We could be a minute or two late for dinner. That’s what they all expect. I’d hate to disappoint them.” She stepped closer, placing one of her feet between mine.
“Do you always do what they expect?” I already knew the answer. With the way her brother alluded to the warehouse purchase, there was no way she towed the line.
“Are you going to kiss me or stand there and yap at me?” she teased, capturing that full bottom lip between her teeth.
I lined up against her as I bent my head to leave a warm trail of breath on her neck. “Is that what I’m doing, yapping?”
“Yeah.” Her hands settled on my hips. “Like a yippy, yappy little dog.”
Laughing, I ran a fingertip down her neck. “You’re not trying to imply that I’m all bark and no bite, are you?”
“You’re the one who offered and yet you’re still standing there.” The challenge in her eyes sparked. She took in a shaky breath as I traced her collarbone with my finger.
“Someone might come looking for us soon.”
“Then we’d better hurry.”
I slid my hand from her neck to cup the back of her head.
The tension melted away as she nestled her head into my hand.
Her eyelids lowered until only a slit of green remained.
Then her breath hitched as my fingers massaged the base of her neck.
She tilted her head to a more receptive angle.
Anticipation rose as I closed the distance between her mouth and mine.
When a fraction of an inch remained, I stilled, waiting.
She leaned into my touch, her eyelids fluttering as my fingers massaged the base of her neck. Her breath caught. Her head tilted. The distance between us evaporated.
“Oliver?” she whispered.
“Yes?”
Then she pressed her mouth to mine, seizing control.
Her hands snapped my hips to hers. Heat rose from where our torsos connected, slamming into me, coursing through my limbs.
She ran a hand under my shirt, clamping onto my waist. My skin burned under her touch, her fingertips like sparks dancing along my ribcage.
“Trinity.” A voice rife with disappointment broke us apart.
I pulled back, dazed and disoriented, not sure where I was, who I was or even what continent I was on anymore.
One of her sisters stood in the doorway, hands on her hips, lips pursed in a perfect circle of disapproval. “You’re in the house less than twenty minutes and you’ve already invited a strange man into your bedroom?”
Trinity wiped her lip and glared. “Seriously, Jules?”
I stepped back, not wanting to get in the middle of what obviously was some long-standing sisterly kind of history.
Then she turned to me. “Come on, Oliver. We don’t want to keep anyone waiting.”
“You okay?” I asked, my hand resting on the small of her back.
If she’d felt it too, how the world shifted on its axis when her lips met mine, she didn’t show any outward sign.
Maybe it was an earthquake. That had been my mom’s biggest worry when I’d left for the States—that I’d be swallowed up in a huge earthquake.
I’d tried to tell her that Indiana was far, far away from a fault line and that I’d be much more likely to experience earthquakes at home, but how else could I explain the sensations I’d just felt?
Like the entire world was slipping away, rumbling under my feet until just Trinity and I were left.
She waited for her sister to turn down the hall, then all but slumped against me. “I’m fine. Look, I’m so sorry I dragged you into this. If you want to go, I’ll understand.”
“Go?” I spun to face her. “You can’t throw me out after a kiss like that.”
She stared down at her feet, avoiding my eyes. I cupped her chin and lifted her gaze to meet mine.
Eyes glistening, she finally looked at me. “It’s going to be a shit show tonight. My siblings are out for blood. I can feel it.”
“Well then, you’re in luck.” I slipped my arm around her and guided us toward the hallway.
“Why’s that?”
“I’m a walking shit show. You’re all going to just love me.”