Page 33 of The Side Road (Love Chronicles #3)

MEDIEVAL

By mid-July, Mia and Oliver had established their sex in the hallway rendezvous routine.

Although they often had sex in the bedroom or the living room, and once got as far as the back courtyard.

Their Monday adventures on the BMW and the Tiger Cub continued.

Oliver also dropped by several mornings a week after Tash left for school.

Holly, aware of their routine, made sure she vacated the house well in advance.

Their secret encounters felt like a conspiracy. Covert sex was thrilling. It was decadent and heedless, and the privacy of their affair connected them. Their secluded world of Mia’s bedroom became a sanctuary of happiness that conveyed their acceptance of one another.

Naked in bed with Oliver, Mia lay on him, draping herself over his body – her breast to his.

Her chin to his neck. Her bones against his.

She drank in the smell of his hair. The feel of his skin.

Outside, the winter weather beat against her windows, but inside her bedroom, they pulled the rugs and blankets around themselves .

As a child, Mia had thought that happiness was something bubbling and loud, like smiles and laughter or birthday cakes and party games.

Hide and seek with her brothers. Now, happiness was this quiet time lying in bed with Oliver.

Happiness was being held. It was his soft breath as he stroked her skin.

It was the peaceful feeling after sex that inspired contentment.

She discovered he liked seeing her half-dressed or almost naked.

Socks would do. Or an oversized shirt and nothing else.

When she only wore a scarf and gloves to keep her hands warm, he couldn’t get enough of her.

She always climaxed first, and he loved to watch.

Visibly affected, it sent him somewhere else.

He asked her questions about what it felt like when he was inside her.

She answered, it felt euphoric. Was she happy?

Blissfully. Did she prefer it this way or on her side?

On her side. Did she want him to do that again? No one was standing in his way.

Watching the way he moved became a pleasant pastime. He leaned, but he rarely slumped, resting his body on whatever nearby support was available. His back against the wall, his shoulder against a doorframe, his hip against a railing, his arse on a car door. She found his postures charming and sexy.

Oliver evaluated a task before he took it on. To the uninitiated, his processing skills were indiscernible, but Mia knew what to look for. She knew how his body worked; how his thoughts turned like cogs inside his head. It took him seconds to think, consider, and then act.

Oliver and Snood formed a meaningful friendship.

Any attention that was not given to Mia went to Snood.

When Oliver was in her house, Snood was either at his feet or following him from room to room.

More than once, Mia had caught them looking into each other’s eyes, thoughtfully sharing their male gaze. What was going through their heads?

Oliver had passed the audition for sex. Beyond that was the journey to intimacy and a future together.

After two months, he knew every curve of Mia’s body.

Every mole. All her fine lines. He knew how to make her blush.

How to increase her orgasm. He liked to do both these things regularly, blushing first and coming shortly after.

Being with Mia was equal parts joy and passion.

Falling in love, he didn’t want to miss a moment.

Not one thing. Every week, he discovered something new.

He could make a constellation out of the freckles on her arm.

Her untangling yarn capabilities were world-class.

No one could untangle knots better than her – if there were an international competition, she would win.

Her continued interest in the progress of the Black Shadow – the woman loved a project.

The way she waved at dogs, just a brief flutter of her fingers as they passed, was adorable.

Then, of course, there was her neckline and the underside of her wrists.

On Monday, when Oliver arrived at Mia’s house, he found her pacing back and forth across the kitchen and wringing her hands. She looked bereft, but when she turned to him, she smiled.

‘I’ve just ordered fifteen balls of hand-spun qiviut yarn. It’s softer than cashmere, eight times warmer than wool, and rarer than gold.’

‘Great.’ He smiled because he thought the moment required encouragement.

‘It cost me a thousand dollars. Wholesale!’

‘That’s a lot of money. ’

‘I know.’ She covered her face with her hands. ‘I’m just so happy.’

He thought she might be about to cry, so he wrapped his arms around her. ‘It’s an investment,’ he consoled. ‘It’s why you work so hard.’ Restoring the Black Shadow was costing him a lot more than one thousand dollars.

‘Exactly.’ She sniffed. ‘I’m going to make a traditional Fair Isle jumper.’

Later, Oliver discovered that the downy qiviut fibre came from the musk ox.

The animal, a gentle, majestic creature found in Alaska and Norway, yielded extraordinarily precious fibres.

There was no doubt that Mia’s project would be a work of art.

He was less sure about the Black Shadow.

Last week, he replaced the loose spokes and aligned the wheels.

This week, he was rebuilding the electrical system: lights, horn, and indicators.

The bills for spare parts were coming in faster than he could pay them.

The following week, Mia answered the door with one sock on and the other sock off.

‘I can’t decide if I’m hot or cold,’ she explained.

Oliver’s heart, along with his desire, exploded. ‘You look so sexy. I want to eat you.’

‘Okay, do that. Why does morning sex feel deliciously wicked?’ she asked.

‘Because you’re with me.’

‘Mmm. You do look delicious.’

‘I have a huge hard-on, and I need to fuck you immediately.’

She shivered with anticipation.

‘Which way will I have you today? Front or back?’

‘Both,’ she suggested.

He pulled his T-shirt over his head and reached for her. Together, they tumbled into the bedroom. When he entered her, he said, ‘Don’t come yet. Let’s cross the finish line together.’

Later, her eyes were burning and her body covered in sweat. Satisfied, he told her to come. She followed his lead. Arching her back, she collapsed into his arms.

As he held her, he asked, ‘So, how’d we do?’

She ran her fingers over his lips and smiled.

‘My favourite part was when you came all over my very hard cock.’

‘Oliver, I don’t need a…’

‘You’re so cute.’

Mia lay back on the bed, one arm draped over her head. ‘This is one of the nicest things I’ve ever done.’

‘ Nicest! ’

‘Wonderfully nice. If I have two orgasms every day, it will take me a year and a half to reach one thousand.’

He was tracing a finger around her nipple. When it peaked, he pressed down and watched it flex back into shape.

‘Are you listening to me?’

‘No, I’m playing with your nipple.’ He paused and looked at her. ‘A year and a half.’

Oliver rolled on top of her. He made a fist and knocked on her forehead.

‘You want to know what I’m thinking?’ she asked, running her fingers through his curls.

‘Yes. Let me inside. I’m neat and I don’t take up much room.’

‘You’re six foot four and have enormous feet, but if you must know, I’m thinking about getting a car.’

Oliver paused.

‘When I arrived in town, I drove Blanche’s Mazda. Then Leo let me use the bike. I also have a taxi on speed dial. But business is good. It might be time to buy a car. Leo said he’d help.’

Oliver shook his head. He pointed a finger at his chest.

‘Leo is not going to help. You’re going to help.’

He nodded, unable to wipe the smile off his face. ‘What’s your budget?’

‘I was thinking of something new – maybe electric. With a long warranty. Some manufacturers are offering ten years.’

Again, Oliver pointed a finger at his chest. ‘Mechanic. If the car needs a service, I’ll do the work. Also, you need to run an electric car for about seven or eight years to offset the embodied energy that goes into making the car.’

‘But petrol is bad for the environment.’

‘True. I’ll do some research. Is that okay?’

‘If you like.’

He smiled.

‘You’re like a kid in a sweet shop. Are you hungry? I made a pie for lunch.’

Oliver rose from the bed. He pulled on his boxer briefs and headed into the kitchen.

Mia found her cardigan and a pair of yoga pants. Heading out of the room, she noticed Oliver’s clothes on the floor. After picking up each item – jeans, T-shirt, chambray shirt – she folded it and left it on the chair.

In the kitchen, Snood was lying on the floor by the window. He turned his head and smiled at Oliver, eyes sparkling, and tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. Happy days.

When Mia arrived, Oliver handed her his knitting. Using a honeycomb pattern, he was making a scarf. ‘I’m almost done. ’

‘Do you need a lesson in finishing techniques?’

‘What am I going to learn that I don’t already know?’

She showed him how to cast the stitches off the needle and make tassels for the ends.

‘Next week, I can show you the mattress stitch. Then we could work on introducing lace.’

‘God, you’re beautiful.’

Mia had made a winter vegetable and beef pot pie for their lunch, with sticky date pudding to follow.

Oliver contributed by making the salad. He loved using the salad spinner.

The lettuce had never been drier. He approached the dressing like a chemist. Cooking, he was discovering, had a lot to do with science.

His measurements were precise. His ingredients, top quality.

Every bottle and jar was always securely screwed or capped after he used them.

But it was never the same when he returned.

As with the doors, she always left the lids open. This confounded him.

As Mia was finishing her dessert, she paused and said, ‘Oliver.’

A serious question was coming. He took the spoon out of his mouth. ‘Yes, Mia.’

‘Do you think you’ll ever get married again?’ She had fixed her gaze on Snood, who lay at Oliver’s feet. The dog lifted its head and smiled.

Oliver also lifted his head; her courage was admirable. ‘I hope so,’ he replied.

‘So, you enjoyed married life?’

‘I did.’

It took her a moment to process his reply. She licked the syrup off her spoon. Then she asked, ‘What did you like about it?’

‘Many things, but mostly the company and the conversation. I miss the end-of-the-day chit-chat. The “How was your day?” banter.’

‘Like, the dog ate half a loaf of bread this morning and I stubbed my toe.’

‘Yes. Is your toe okay?’

‘Very painful. It might be broken. Actually, it’s definitely broken. Thank you for asking.’

Oliver experienced a sudden, intense feeling of love and devotion. Everything in his life seemed to fall into place. He was filled with a newfound sense of purpose and connection.

Later that afternoon, Mia finished the third animal in her farmyard series; Clarence the Cow was added to Quinn the Chicken, Pete the Pig.

‘Before I start Horatio the Horse, I’m going to make a fringed holdall. It’s the Birkin of knitted bags,’ she said.

‘Good to know,’ Oliver replied.

Oliver, preserving the boundary between parent and child, protected Tash from sensitive information.

There were details about their life and finances that she didn’t need to know.

Aspects about his past that he was not willing to share.

Facts surrounding her mother’s death that she was too young to understand.

Aside from that, he revealed almost everything to his daughter.

When she came to him with questions about relationships, sex, death, religion, and global warming, he answered her openly and honestly.

He was not ready to disclose the details of his liaison with Mia; it was too early. But they were now seeing each other several times a week. Tash had to know what was going on.

On Monday, when Tash arrived home from school, she found a beginner’s crochet kit and a note from Mia on her bed. The kit, discontinued and with ripped packaging, was unsalable, but it was still usable, and Mia thought Tash might appreciate it.

Taking it out to the garage, Tash showed it to her father. ‘Did you see Mia today?’ she asked.

‘I did.’ He sat down on the Parker lounge and patted the spot beside him. This was their code for a serious talk. She took the seat, her curiosity piqued.

‘I’ve been spending some time with Mia. We’ve been on a few motorbike rides and had a few lunch dates.’

Tash stiffened. ‘Really?’

‘Yes. We like each other. It’s early days – nothing is official. You know how this works, so please be discreet. But I wanted you to know.’

Her cheeks flushed. She smiled and jiggled her knees. From the look on her face, he expected her to say, ‘Don’t fuck this up.’ He had no intention of fucking it up. It meant a lot to both of them.

Leaning in, she rubbed her head into his shoulder. ‘Jack’s coming over to see the bike. Is that okay?’

‘Of course.’

Jack arrived with a stack of old motorbike magazines that Ben had given him. Together with Tash, they sat at the workbench in the garage and flicked through the pages.

Ben had a lead; a friend of a friend’s uncle knew an old guy who collected antique bikes. They were searching for classified advertisements for spare parts found at the back of the magazines.

After an hour, Tash said, ‘This is impossible. There are probably ten Black Shadows left in the universe. We should try the internet.’

‘This guy is under the radar.’ Jack tossed a magazine aside and picked up another.

When his phone rang, he picked it up. ‘Ben, my man, what’s up?

’ Jack paused. ‘Sounds promising.’ He ended the call.

‘We might have something. Ben got a call from a lady who knows this bloke, whose brother bought a 1936 BSA 500 V-Twin from an old guy who lives out west. Ben says he might be our man. How much cash can you get your hands on?’

They looked at Oliver, who was fiddling with the tyre spokes.

‘Ben might have a lead,’ Tash said. ‘But we’ll need money.’

‘If you find something, let me know. But don’t get your hopes up.’

The lead turned out to be a decade old. The old guy who lives out west had died.