Page 66 of Noble Neighbor
The reality of his situation played on Oliver’s mind the rest of the day and into the evening, taxing him to theextreme, bound by the new deal with her. Not touchingher was hard.
And not justthatkind of hard.
But, yeah, that too, because as he lay in the narrow bed, alone while Clement slept across the room, he smelled her — his pillow still carried her scent from this morning. His mind replayed the events of the morning, andof coursehis dick stiffened.
He wanted her. By his side in bed, across from the table at meals, sharing his shower. Sharing his life.
They’d gone out as a family for dinner, walked the streets of the historical town afterward, and it had been so easy to think of them as one.
Grandparents. Parents. Three kids.
A family.
Oliver wished for that. Badly.
He’d watched his father interact with Lorena — a woman long abused by her husband, unwilling to commit herself to another one. His parent loved his woman, prepared to accept her the only way she permitted.
Could he do the same? Have Sunny in his life, but on her terms?
He fell into an uneasy sleep and woke in the same frame of mind, carrying a sulk into the morning.
“Who pissed on your Post Toasties?” His father stopped beside him, drinking coffee, staring out over the lake as Oliver was.
It was a serene view — shimmering water with the Ozark Mountains as a backdrop; a couple of boats with fishermen patiently waiting; the graceful swoop of a bird as it dived to the water, grabbing the catch eluding human prey — and a sharp contrast to his churning emotions.
“How do you do it, Dad? Huh?” He turned from the lake and looked his father in the eye. “How the hell do you set aside your wants and needs and accept the dictates of your woman?”
His dad held his stare for a long moment. “She’s worth the sacrifice. Something happen, son?”
Worth the sacrifice.
Oliver exhaled, long and heavy. “I love Sunny, Dad.”
“I know.”
“I want to marry her. Give her my name. She doesn’t want that.”
*
Worth the sacrifice. Worth the sacrifice.
The words were a refrain in Oliver’s mind in the ten-hour drive home. He participated in the games the kids played, shared a few heated glances with Sunny, and even snuck a kiss during their break at a diner. But overall, he was distracted, irritated, and at odds with himself.
Arriving back, he and Clement offloaded the girls, took part in the boisterous welcome from Hooch, laughed at the disdainful look Lucifer gave them — Tabitha didn’t deem them worthy of an appearance — and then went home.
Oliver went to sleep as out of sorts with himself as he’d woken.
The call from his agent only increased his discombobulation.
“It’s a tremendous deal,” she gushed.
Five further Dirk Storm novels. A mini-series.
It was any author’s dream come true. It also meant the end of his anonymity.
And if Sunny was living under the radar …
“Donottell me you’re going to turn it down, Oliver.”
