“Oh, my God, your face right now is priceless,” he cackled while shaking his head in disbelief.
I cut my eyes at him, daring him to say more.
After a few seconds, he caught his breath and straightened his posture as his expression became more thoughtful. “No, of course you don’t stink . . . or smell like peaches, for that matter.” His lips curled up into a lopsided grin as he ran his fingers through his thick brown hair. “You’re just so tense right now, and I was trying to get you to lighten up. Smile. Be happy. If everything goes right, in a couple of months, you’re gonna have a kick-ass house—that you chose for the kids—to start preparing for a group who needs the stability and support that it provides more than they need anything else.”
Wow. He was right. I knew I’d done my full diligence in choosing the right place, with the kids’ best interest as the primary driving factor throughout the entire decision-making process. It wasn’t the time to second-guess myself. I needed to focus on the finish-line and what needed to be done next to get there.
“You’re right,” I admitted, relaxing my shoulders. “I’ve just been grilling myself all morning, wondering if I made the right choice, worrying about what would happen if I didn’t. I don’t want to mess this up. Failure isn’t an option.”
“The house is nothing but a structural building made up of brick, wood, and sheetrock, all held together by nails. The home is everything that happens inside the walls, made up of laughter, tears, and irreplaceable memories, all held together by love.” Lifting his hand to my face, he softly cradled my chin between his thumb and forefinger and gazed so deep inside me I swore he could see the tarnished depths of my soul. “It didn’t matter which house you picked. You and the love you have for the people inside that structure will be what makes it successful.”
What happened next can only be described as one of those moments in life that one never forgets. Like the magical thing in fairytales where the prince and the princess first see each other and time stops while violins play, birds sing, fireworks explode in the background, angels get their wings, and a bunch of other enchanted shit happens. It was a total internal body shift as my axis was thrown completely off-center. I didn’t understand it. It scared the shit out of me, but enthralled me even more. I couldn’t have torn my eyes away from him if I had to. My body heated from the inside out. I didn’t know if I was breathing or if my heart was beating. Nothing mattered but how much I needed him to kiss me right-fucking-then.
Our faces gradually grew closer together as his fingers slid around to cup my jaw. His eyes fell to my parted lips and instinctively I licked them, eliciting a gruff, rumbling moan from deep in his throat as he met my stare again. My inner thighs caught fire. I didn’t care who I was, or where we were, or what this meant for everything in my life, or how long I’d known this guy, or how it would affect our working relationship, or any other goddamn thing except his mouth pressed against mine.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
The electrically-charged atmosphere shattered instantly as the sound of someone knocking on the driver’s side window startled us so badly I jumped high enough in my seat to hit my head on the car’s ceiling as Oliver simultaneously snatched his hand away from my face and banged his knuckles against the dashboard. We don’t look guilty or anything. Twisting around to see who the culprit was that destroyed my moment, I saw Melissa Myers—the realtor whose office we were still parked in front of—standing there with a huge smile on her face while giving me the thumbs-up signal. Seriously?
A little annoyed and a lot flustered, I rolled the window down and put on the best innocent look I could muster, thanking God she couldn’t get a pulse and blood pressure reading on me. I was pretty sure I was damn close to having either a stroke or a heart attack, but whether it was because I almost let a man who I’d only known for two seconds—and more importantly, a man who wasn’t my husband—kiss me, or because we nearly got caught, I wasn’t sure.
“You got it! You got the house!” she trilled excitedly. “They already accepted the offer, no counteroffer or anything. Once they execute the contract, we’ll put everything into motion so that you can close on November fifteenth. Sorry if I scared you, I just saw your car still here out the window, so I thought I’d tell you the good news in person.”
Learning we’d gotten the house temporarily made me forget about the near-kiss, and I threw open the door to jump out and hug Melissa. I’d been working with her for over six months, searching for the perfect place for the MH house, and during that time, we’d established a casual friendship.
“Thank you so much! This is incredible news! I thought we’d have to wait at least a couple of days to hear anything back,” I said with unbridled enthusiasm as I released her from the embrace.
“I did too, but today must be your lucky day,” she replied, briefly glancing into the car where Oliver still sat then back up at me. “You two should go celebrate. I’ll call you when I have all the documents in and let you know what the next step is.”
The guilt slammed into me like a runaway bullet train as I thought about what kind of celebration Oliver and I were getting ready to partake in before she’d interrupted us, but I did my best to maintain my composure. “Sounds good. I’ll be looking forward to hearing from you.”
With one last congratulatory smile, she spun around and returned to her office, leaving me alone with him again. Part of me wanted to take off running so I didn’t have to face Oliver and address what almost happened, but another part of me wanted to crawl back in the car and pick up exactly where we’d left off. I pressed my lips together and closed my eyes, inhaling a deep breath through my nose.
“You’re doing it again, Peaches,” Oliver commented from inside the cab.
My eyelids flew open and I stooped down to glare at him. “Doing what? And stop calling me that!”
“The lip thing, and would you rather I go back to calling you Rizzo?” he mused, raising his eyebrows.
As I lowered myself onto the driver’s seat, careful not to flash him my panties under my skirt in the process, I retorted, “I don’t have a lip thing, and I’d like it if you just called me Monroe, like everybody else does.” That was a damn lie. I knew it, and if the mischief twinkling in his eyes was anything to go by, he did too.
“Okay, Dr. Monroe Cassidy,” he mocked, which riled me up even more, “but I don’t want to hear any whining when your lips are all dry and chapped.”
“Don’t be an ass, and I don’t whi—” I stopped abruptly when I realized I was indeed whining.
Erupting with laughter yet again, Oliver threw his head back against the seat and shook it from side to side, mussing his hair all up. I wonder if that’s what he looks like when he first wakes up.
With an exasperated huff, which was directed mainly at myself and my inability to control my thoughts around him, I stuck the key in the ignition and cranked the engine, hoping Oliver thought I was irritated with him. Maybe that way he wouldn’t try to kiss me again.
It didn’t stop me from thinking about it the entire way to the DCF though.
“She was strange
and beautiful
and those were human
qualities that I
had never seen weaved
together before.
She became terrifying
to me,
not because I feared
who she was,
but for the sake
of love,
I feared what
she could do to me.”
–Christopher Poindexter
Oliver
I COULDN’T BELIEVE I almost kissed her. My hand had caressed her face, my lips so close we breathed the same air. I wanted it more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life, though I’m not sure I could’ve stopped once I started. The realtor knocking on the window was both the best and worst thing to happen in that moment, and when Monroe fled the car, I stole several seconds to regain my poise and self-control. It was d
ay fucking two, and I was already putting the moves on my married coworker! And this was after I’d spent all night and morning swearing to myself I would stop with the preposterous fantasies I’d been having about her, which definitely meant NO FUCKING KISSING HER. She was turning me into someone I never thought I’d be.
When she got back in the car, I tried my best to play the situation off—to tease and harass her about the nicknames and her lips—in hopes it would help alleviate any awkwardness between us, and for the most part, it seemed to work. She pretended she was annoyed by my antics, huffing and rolling her eyes, but as she pulled out of the parking lot and onto the busy street, I saw the way her mouth tilted up in a hidden smile. And it made my day, even though I knew it shouldn’t.
I am so screwed.
It took us about fifteen minutes to reach the DCF office, in which neither of us said a word. Some horrible pop shit was on the radio, but I was careful not to ruffle her feathers any more than I already had, so I kept my opinion on her music selection to myself and sat quietly, watching the city fly by. Once she shifted the transmission into park, Monroe hurriedly escaped the close quarters of the car and waited for me outside by the curb, making it clear she wasn’t over what had almost happened any more than I was. I wasn’t sure either of us trusted ourselves enough to ensure it wouldn’t happen again, and that’s what scared me the most. No matter how much I knew it was wrong, I couldn’t just flip a switch and not want her, so if she instigated anything at all, there was no way in hell I’d be able to tell her no.
Joining her under the cloudless, late-morning sky, I fell into step next to her and offered a casual smile in hopes she’d relax a little. “So you have a good relationship with these people? The director is easy to work with?”
Monroe nodded, but kept her gaze straight out in front of her. “Yeah, they’re a great group, and Dr. Prince is amazing. The Suffolk County Children’s Home is right around the corner from here, so they’re all very involved with the children, especially the older ones who have a hard time being placed in a foster home, let alone staying there.”
“Can we stop by there when we leave here? I’d love to see the place and meet some of the kiddos.” I stepped out in front of her when we reached the building to open the door for her and basically force her to look at me.
Her sharp glare softened when our eyes met and she nodded again as she stepped inside. “Yeah, of course. I wasn’t sure if you’d want to.”
“Are you kidding? I’m missing my crew back in Chicago like crazy,” I admitted with a chuckle while following her to the bank of elevators in the lobby. “I haven’t been away from them for more than two or three days in a row before this. Tracie and Jeff promised to send me weekly updates and photos, and I’m supposed to Skype with the group every Sunday morning, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to wait that long.” I stopped walking mid-stride and gently grabbed her arm, causing her to pull up too. Peering down into her expressive eyes, I needed her to understand the seriousness and sincerity of my next words. “It’d be obvious to a blind man that you’re truly dedicated and determined to helping these kids, Monroe. The love you have for the cause radiates from you in everything you do. But please know that I feel just as strongly as you about what we do. Helping these kids who have been taken advantage of, who’ve never been given a fair shot in life, isn’t just what I want to do; it’s what I have to do. It’s a part of who I am.”
Finally, the mask cracked and the smile she blessed me with made my heart swell so big in my chest I was afraid it might explode. “I’d love to introduce you to the kids! They’re gonna love you!” she exclaimed, lightly bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Four of them I know will definitely be transferred to our house in February when we open the doors, and there are another two or three that I’m hoping Mending Hearts will be awarded custody of, but the parents are still in the picture. So we’ll probably have a fight in court over those, but I feel confident about our chances.”
“Is that what you’ve been working on since graduation?” I asked as we began moving toward the elevators again.
“Yep,” she answered as her face flushed with enthusiasm. “I practically lived at the house from mid-May to mid-August as I got to know all of the kids, studied some of the specific cases that could qualify for MH, and basically just learned more about how the Massachusetts system works, especially here locally. Real-life application seems to be so different than all the crap they teach you in school.”
She stopped talking long enough for us to get in one of the elevators and to press the button for the eighth floor then picked up where she left off. “I don’t even know why they bother with textbooks in graduate social work classes anymore. The material is antiquated before it’s ever published, and none of it can properly prepare you for the situations you’re actually going to face . . . but I’m sure you know better about that than me.”
“Absolutely,” I agreed whole-heartedly. “I learned more in my first six months out of university than I ever did inside. Even in grad school, when I worked in one of the local children’s shelters, I didn’t fully comprehend the magnitude of responsibility I’d feel once I had my own cases, nor did I understand what a hindrance the legal system could be sometimes in keeping me from doing my job. I won’t lie to you. There’ve been times I’ve been so fed up with protocols and laws and all that bullshit, that I just want to scream and bang my head on my desk, and even thought about walking away . . . but the frustration fades, and the reward of knowing I’m helping to keep abused kids safe, by far outweighs anything else.”
The elevator dinged when we arrived at our destination, and as the stainless doors parted, I motioned for her to lead the way. “After you, m’lady.”
As soon as we stepped out onto the floor, we were greeted by a smiling, grandma-looking receptionist who jumped up and scurried around her desk the second she saw Monroe, greeting her with a giant hug. “Well, would you look what the cat drug in?” she scolded in a motherly tone. “I thought maybe you forgot about us or something. I haven’t seen your face in . . . what’s it been? Two weeks?”
“Now, Miss Betty, I told you I was going to Detroit to be with Allison for her surgery,” Monroe replied with a laugh.
“Yes, but I know you’ve been back in town. I saw you on TV at the game Sunday, so I at least expected you to drop by yesterday. And by the way, tell that husband of yours that I knew all along he was gonna bring us back. Ed was in his recliner, justa goin’ on and on about how they needed to run the ball more, and I finally just told him to shut his damn mouth and watch our Colin get us the win.” Miss Betty winked over at me. “And look who was right—me, of course. Young man, if you learn nothing else in this world, just learn to shut your mouth and listen to your woman when she tells you how things are gonna go down, ‘cause chances are . . . she’ll be right. By the way, who are you?”
Without giving me a chance to respond, she turned her attention back to Monroe and asked her, “Who’s the Hottie McHotstuff you brought with you? It’s too early for my Christmas present, and I’m not sure Ed’s gonna approve if I bring one home with those bedroom eyes.”
Monroe glanced over at me with a horrified look on her face, and the second our eyes met, we both erupted in laughter. Bent-over, struggling-to-breathe, tears-streaming-down-our-faces, holding-our-sides laughter. Between the stress of the house contract and the tension of what had almost transpired in the car, she and I had been strung up so tightly with emotions that once we started to unwind, we couldn’t stop.
Miss Betty stood there with her arms crossed over her chest and watched us guffaw around like a pair of wild hyenas until we eventually caught our breath and were able to talk again. Her eyes twinkled with amusement, although she pretended to be annoyed, mumbling something about kids these days and how she never got good surprises.
Monroe spoke first, still struggling to keep a straight face. “Miss Betty, this is Dr. Oliver Saxon. He’s the executive director at the Chicago cha
pter of Mending Hearts, and since Allison couldn’t be here in Boston to train me and help me get things set up, he’s taking her place. He’s staying in Boston through the end of February.”
They both fixed their attention on me, prompting me to stick my hand out in the direction of the petite, gray-haired woman. “So nice to meet you, Miss Betty,” I said with my best charming smile. “I look forward to seeing you often while I’m here in town.”
Ignoring my hand all together, she moved toward me and wrapped her arms around my waist, squeezing me in an embrace that resembled the jaws-of-life. “The pleasure’s all mine, young man. It’s about time we got some testosterone around here. All these damn women in this office drive me batty sometimes. Especially the week they’re all cycling together.” I cringed, but she didn’t release her hold. “And a good-looking doctor, too. I guess that’s all I can ask for if I don’t get to take you home . . . although if you have any free time, I could use some training of my own and have a few things you could set up.”
My head snapped over to Monroe and I silently pleaded with her to save me. Laughing quietly, she mouthed, Peaches.
I narrowed my eyes and shook my head at her, mouthing back, You’re gonna pay.
But that only provoked her more.
When Miss Betty finally loosened her grip on my waist and I managed to discreetly step off to the side, Monroe smirked as she announced, “Dr. Saxon thinks the name Oliver sounds too uptight, so he prefers for everyone just to call him Ollie.”
Oh, she’s so going to get it later.
Miss Betty beamed up at me. “Ollie . . . I love that. I’m thrilled you’re here and that my girl Monroe has someone to show her the ropes. We’re all so proud of her.”
With a smile I didn’t have to fake, I nodded in agreement but didn’t get a chance to say anything else before another female spoke up. “What’s with all the ruckus out here? Is there a party I wasn’t invited to? And who is this visitor we have?”