Page 26 of The Side Road (Love Chronicles #3)

PATTERNS

While Mia made the coffee and toast in her kitchen, Oliver distracted himself, and once again, he studied the plots on her paper patterns.

When she handed him a cup, her eyes smiled into his. A world of meaning and secret pleasures bound them together.

‘Snooping?’ she asked. After bringing her cup to her lips, she sipped her coffee.

‘Yes. I’ve worked it out.’ He pointed to a black dot on the pattern. ‘This is pearl.’ He moved his finger to a blank space. ‘And this is knit.’

‘Yes, that’s correct.’

‘Y O means yarn over. C O is cast off. K2 T O G means knit two together?’ He glanced at her for confirmation.

She nodded.

‘What’s C 6 F?’

‘It means move the next three stitches onto a cable needle. Hold this in front. Then, knit three more stitches, and finally, knit the three from the cable needle.’

‘Fuck me. ’

She pointed to the letters S L S T. ‘You’ll get this one.’

‘Maybe, slip stitch.’

When the toaster pinged. Mia returned to the kitchen.

She spread butter and apricot jam on the sourdough.

They sat together on the window seat, sharing the toast, which was perfectly cooked.

Mia, once again wearing her halter neck dress with a loose cardigan slipping off her shoulders, tucked one leg underneath, and rested her knee on his thigh.

For the first time in a long time, Oliver felt completely at home.

Relaxed and content, he could happily sit next to her and do nothing for several hours.

But his mind shifted through the consequences of what sex with Mia meant.

A deeper, emotional connection, which he thought must be obvious to her, too.

He admired the determination that fuelled her passion.

Pride also swelled within him. As the morning light scattered across the floor of the charming sitting room, he realised she trusted him.

When he ran his hand over her bare leg, she rewarded him with a coy smile.

Nearby, Snood sat on the floor. His pleading stare told Oliver that the dog was still starving.

‘It’s my fault,’ Mia said. ‘He expects the crusts. They’re his favourite.’

Oliver didn’t think crusts were the dog’s favourite. Snood was a universal lover of all human food, but he offered his crusts.

‘Just watch your hand,’ Mia warned. The dog had a habit of inhaling his food; fingers were a casualty.

After Mia finished her toast, she cleared her throat. ‘So, I’ve been thinking about you and me, and I was wondering if you’d be interested in doing this again in a part-time capacity.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘What does part-time mean?’

She brushed the hair out of her eyes. ‘I’m not explaining myself very well. I’d like to do this again. On Sundays and Mondays.’

He hesitated. ‘You want a fuck-buddy – two days a week?’

‘No!’ Abruptly, she uncurled her leg. Standing, she walked across the room to the table. With her back to him, she said, ‘Do we have to call it that?’

‘Isn’t that what you’re asking?’

She paused. ‘Can’t we call it friends with benefits?’ She began collecting the graph paper patterns that were scattered over the table.

‘Are we going to be friends?’ Oliver joined her at the table. Following her lead, he helped her with the pages. Passing them to her, she slipped them into plastic folders.

‘Of course. Why wouldn’t we be friends?’

He studied her face. ‘You’re sure this is what you want?’

‘Yes. I don’t understand why you’re hesitating.’

‘Because we can do better.’

‘Oliver, I like you. But a relationship is something else. You’re five years younger than me. The rumour is you’re not staying in Eagle Nest – as soon as you find the money or sort out the will, you and Tash will be out of here. You also have a past life, and…’

‘You forgot to add, I’m unemployed and I have a twelve-year-old daughter. Mia, I’m not going anywhere. And the age difference is nothing.’

‘It’s not nothing. Look at me. I’m thirty-six. There are things I want in life. Do you want to get married and have more children?’

‘Are you asking?’

‘I’m serious.’ She looked bewildered.

‘I know. Listen to me, I started racing when I was fourteen. By the time I was twenty, I’d travelled to every continent. I’ve lived in Italy, France, London, and the US. I’ve been married and divorced. And now I’m raising a child and?—’

‘Wait,’ Mia interrupted. ‘Who did you divorce?’

‘Lizzy.’

‘Posthumously.’

‘No. We got divorced before she died. It’s not a secret. Although Tash conveniently forgets, and Elsie pretended our marriage never happened.’

‘She had cancer, right?’

‘She died in a car accident.’

‘No one told me that. Why did you get divorced?’

‘Because we weren’t in love. What I’m trying to say is, when it comes to life experiences, you don’t have the edge just because you’re a few years older.’

Unconvinced, she bit her thumbnail and shook her head. ‘I don’t think…’

He could make a stronger case, pitch a better reason for more dates or even a relationship, but he didn’t want to coerce her. If he wanted them to be together, a compromise was required.

‘Okay, let’s give it a go. Have you done this before?’

‘No.’ She swallowed. Nervously, she shook her head. ‘I’m a friends-with-benefits virgin.’ She placed her hand on her chest and pressed her heart. ‘What about you? Have you ever done this before?’

‘I’ve had some experience. We should set some ground rules. There is Tash to think about, she comes first. I can’t do Sundays. And no after-hours booty calls.’

‘I understand. Monday is my worst day, so that works for me.’

‘While we’re doing this, we’re not having sex with anyone else. It should be an exclusive arrangement. ’

She looked shocked. ‘Why would I have sex with anyone else?’

‘You’d be surprised. We should also be honest with each other.’

‘Okay. I like your rules. Also, I get to kiss you whenever I want. That's non-negotiable. It’s good that you’re currently unemployed; that will make it easier. Why are you looking at me like that?’

‘No reason. Now, next week, why don’t I take you on a picnic?’

‘Really? I’ve never been on a picnic.’ She slipped her arm around his neck, pulled him toward her, and kissed him.

Outside, Oliver wiped a hand over his face.

For a man who was about to engage in a sexual relationship with a beautiful, sweet, funny, and somewhat sexually na?ve – although enthusiastic – woman, he should feel happier.

Somehow, the agreement felt dishonest. He told himself it was her idea, which was true, but he didn’t feel right.

It was the picnic. This was outside the scope of friends-with-benefits rules.

She had not referred to adventures or romance, so he refused to rule them out.

He was going to romance those cute little socks right off her feet, along with a few other items of clothing.

His mind raced ahead: motorbike rides on country roads, long lunches at local wineries, fruit picking – he wondered what berries were in season.

Yesterday, if anyone had asked him to visit an old church, the Pioneers Museum, or the Memorial Rotunda, he would have answered them with a firm shake of his head.

Not in his life, but the idea of taking Mia to these places enthralled him.

Entering a half-lit chapel built in the 1800s sounded delightful.

Visiting the cutlery museum to look at antique forks seemed like a great idea.

Studying old black-and-white photos of bygone eras and stockman’s routes would surely interest her.

Perhaps she would enjoy a pioneering gold experience.

He might also put the statue of poet and activist Louisa Lawson – the mother of women’s suffrage – on his list. There was a lot to do, and he hadn’t even thought about country pubs, breweries, and cellar doors.

He could keep the woman entertained for months.

Obviously, they were going to fall deeply in love.

Already, she had opened his heart and stepped inside.

Not seeing her for a week would be difficult. The garden’s unruly beds at the parsonage were going to be pummelled.

When he got home, he rang the florist and ordered a bouquet to be sent to Mia. Again, this was outside the friends-with-benefits rules, but the boundaries were already hazy. The florist suggested bold-coloured tulips. She said they were a classic. Oliver agreed.

On Wednesday morning, Mia sent April a text message informing her she had a few last-minute errands to run and she might be a little late for work. This would not be a problem because the store didn’t open until ten. She then messaged Oliver.

Fifteen minutes later, there was a knock on her door. When she opened it, Oliver said, ‘Have I told you how beautiful you are?’

‘Two days ago.’ Their fingers interlaced and they kissed. ‘I know you said no booty calls, but I thought Tash had probably left.’

‘I’m going down on you for an hour.’ He walked past her into the house .

She turned and followed him. ‘That’s a very long time. Honestly, I only need ten minutes.’

‘At least two orgasms.’

Halfway down the hallway, he pulled off his shirt and caught her in his arms. She admired the firm muscles under his smooth skin.

The fine hair covering his chest. The line of dark hair that ran from his groin up to his navel.

He knew how to kiss her and touch her. How to be with women. What they liked. What she liked.

In the bedroom, he said, ‘Why don’t you sit down?’

She sat, perched on the edge of the bed. He pushed her back, and she rested on her elbows.

Crouching beside her, he lifted her dress, pulled down her knickers, and pushed her legs apart. ‘Mia, your pussy is so wet and open?—’

‘Oliver!’ She sat up. ‘I don’t need a description.’

He couldn’t take his eyes off her vagina. ‘You must really want me.’

She relaxed, once again reclining on the bed. ‘That’s true, I do. I really want you. A week is too long to wait.’

He went down on her. She succumbed, welcoming and encouraging. Soon, her hips thrust toward him, and they found a delightful rhythm. His tongue worked hard and fast, while she lay back on the bed. Raising her arms, she ran her hands through her hair.

‘Oh, my god. Jesus, Oliver!’ Her climax was exquisite.

He raised his head and watched her travel over the edge, trembling. Pausing for a moment, he excused himself. There was something in the kitchen he needed. He came back grinning, an ice cube in his mouth.

The warm feeling of his tongue followed by the cold was a sensation she might never forget. After her second climax, he lay down beside her and stroked her arm with his fingertips. She rolled toward him, her head on his shoulder.

‘I’ve missed that so much. Orgasms are so much better when someone gives them to you.’

‘They’re better when I give them to you. And you taste amazing, like?—’

She placed her hand over his mouth and shook her head.

He laughed. ‘I can give you a lift to work.’

‘But what about you? Don’t you want to…’

‘I’ve had thousands of orgasms. Watching you come makes me incredibly happy.’

She pulled away. ‘Thousands? Really?’

He squirmed. ‘Figure of speech.’

‘Now you’re lying. I’ve had, maybe one hundred. Maybe less than that.’

He frowned, concerned. ‘How is that possible?’

‘Oh, it’s possible. Have you honestly had thousands?’

‘Well, I’ve been having sex for about fifteen years. There are three hundred and sixty-five days in a year. You do the math.’

‘Figures don’t lie, but my sex life is using a different algorithm than yours.’