Chapter 7

Grace

Yesterday, Oli called me with an offer I couldn't refuse.

After the draining and frankly embarrassing encounter with Brad at the coffee shop, Oli hadn't even waited an hour before calling me back with tales of woe about his own ex that he needs to dissuade—color me unsurprised about that particular detail—and a ‘brilliant' plan to double down on my cobbled together attempt to ward off Brad with a fake relationship.

"Come on, pookie-wookie," he'd practically simpered at me over the phone, mimicking Brad. "It's a mutually beneficial endeavor."

"It was a terrible idea that I came up with in a moment of desperation!"

"Just say yes, and I'll come over for lunch tomorrow to discuss the details."

Then he'd started filling my head with the most ridiculous scenarios of success, ending with Brad and his Sera getting married and running off to Canada together, and I'd finally, laughingly, agreed.

But he'd ended up swamped with work today, probably because of how much he'd slacked off yesterday, and we'd had to reschedule. To be honest, I'd sort of forgotten about it until I'd gotten his text.

I'm so sorry my lovely, but something's come up at work. I'll have to beg for a raincheck, but if you run into any trouble let me know and I'll see what I can do.

Even that message from him had put me in a good mood, and I'd pottered around with Lucas happily all day, leaving only for a quick grocery haul before returning to finish off the last of my work.

One of the best things about being a self-employed website developer is that I can work at any time, from anywhere. If I need to take a breather between jobs, I have full freedom to do so. And I'm taking that breather, even if it's only a week or so long. Having finished my last project, I am talking with another client at the moment for my next round of work, but they're not in a rush to start. I have enough savings for a short break, and after what life's put me through recently, I'm taking it.

So I'd spent the remainder of the day chilling with my son, imagining that the rest of my life might be just this peaceful and lovely, and being in a generally good mood.

That is until the sun began to set, and Brad came knocking on my door. And it had been such

a good day without him.

"Please, my little sea-turtle," he says, standing on the porch with the largest bunch of flowers I've ever seen. "I'm sorry for everything, I can change. Just let me inside."

"No," I sigh, and begin swinging the door. "Go away."

I nearly have it shut when he grabs at the wood, almost smacking me in the face with half a ton of roses. "Just… Just… Let me see Lucas?"

I hesitate, and that small moment is all it takes for him to launch into another spiel.

"It isn't fair, Gracie," he says, latching onto the topic at the smallest sign from me, all heartfelt and emotional as he pushes the door open again. "I'm the only father that boy's ever known, you can't keep him away from me. Have you even thought about how this might affect him? Ripping him away from me like this? He doesn't understand what's happened between us, and he doesn't deserve to be abandoned by his only father figure just because we're having issues."

I bite my lip, feeling a spike of guilt as he hits on a raw nerve.

"You see?" Brad pushes the flowers at me and steps past as I grab them. "You know I'm right, pookie."

"What?" I scramble with the flowers for a second, and he takes the opportunity to finish barging inside. One small moment of weakness is all it took this slippery bastard to slide past my defenses. "Stop it, I didn't invite you in. And if you want to see Lucas, we have to discuss it properly, first."

"This is a nice place," he says as he immediately begins snooping around inspecting every nook and cranny, ignoring me completely as I try to herd him back to the door. He wanders into the kitchen, muttering about how much space the house has as he stares out over the sink into the cute little backyard. "Ella doesn't need rent from her sister, does she? This could be a really great move for us, imagine all the things we could buy if we stayed here rent free. I could finally upgrade my console."

I purse my lips, and dump his stupid roses on the kitchen table. "Brad, can you please just…"

But he doesn't even hear me as he bounces excitedly back into the living room. "Sweet set up in here. I'm going to go check out upstairs."

I close my eyes and take a deep breath as he disappears into the hallway, stopping my twitching fingers from grabbing the broom and heading up after him swinging. So much for wanting to see Lucas, he seems much more interested in the furnishings, the jerk. I snatch up my phone, muttering to myself and angrily typing as I stomp up the stairs. Time to activate my little deal with Oli.

Are you free? Brad's barged into my house uninvited, if you could call me on facetime in a minute so we can sweet talk in front of him, I'd owe you one. Hopefully, we can annoy him so much he'll drop dead and roll out of the house.

I'm at the point now where I'll try anything. And if my gooey eyes at Oli don't frustrate Brad enough to make him ‘rage quit' and leave like he did at the cafe, I'll call the cops. But I'd rather not do that with Lucas in the house.

As I clear the stairwell, the little swoopy sound of a received message rings out and I squint at the response.

I'll do you one better.

What is that supposed to mean? I pause, waiting for another text, but the little typing dots don't wriggle to suggest he's going to elaborate.

"There's an ensuite!" Brad pokes his grinning head out of my bedroom. "You're living like a queen, pookie, you're so lucky."

I clench my fists, shoving my phone away so I don't break it as I round on Brad. "You are unbelievable, did you know that?"

He winks and ducks back into the bedroom. "Thanks, bubba, you too."

"Get away from my things!"

I storm in after him, catching him rooting through my still half unpacked suitcase.

"I knew

you'd taken the portable speakers!" he accuses, as he triumphantly pulls them out.

"They're my

speakers. Of course I took them."

"You don't even use these, Gracie, you don't need them."

"Momma?" I turn to see my boy walking in behind me, his blond hair flopping into his eyes as he looks between the two of us. "What's going on?"

"Everything's fine, baby," I sigh, shuffling him gently back into the hall. "Go back to your puzzle. I'll come play with you again soon."

Lucas throws another barely interested look at Brad over his shoulder as he obediently trots back to his room. "‘Kay."

"And the Switch, pookie?" Brad calls out, affronted. "You've never once played Super Smash Bros in your life!"

"Lucas likes to play!" I shout, ready to storm back, when the doorbell rings.

"Oh my god. " I tug my hands through my hair in frustration, half dislodging the messy bun as I stomp down the stairs instead. "When it rains, it freaking pours!"

I rip open the front door, and then blink with surprise at Oli standing before me, looking as handsome as ever in a blue suit that contrasts nicely with his brown fur.

"Oh," I say, suddenly understanding what he'd meant in his text by ‘one better'. "And here you are."

"Here I am," he rumbles with amusement, taking in my disheveled state with a raised brow. I immediately pull my bun loose, so I'll look marginally less a mess. "What do you need from me, words or action?"

"Who is it?" Brad calls out from my room, as if this was his home and he had any right to know, which ratchets my frustration up further.

"Action," I practically snarl, and I grab Oli by the tie and drag him in.

"I can throw him out—unf."

His words cut off as I continue yanking him down and plant my lips firmly against his.

He stumbles forward, one hand instinctively coming up against my back in surprise as he makes a muffled, spluttery noise against me, his brows raised practically to his hairline. Just kiss me, I think angrily, darting my gaze towards the stairs to see if Brad has come to see what's going on yet. I need him to get the message loud and clear. No visiting me without permission, no barging into my home uninvited, I am not his damn… anything,

anymore.

But then Oli's palm flattens against my spine, and I look back into his suddenly heated eyes as his hand slides up and curls itself around the base of my neck, large and warm and firm. He tilts my head, suckles lightly on my bottom lip, and pulls back.

I blink, all my anger evaporating in a split second as I feel the ghost of that suck still lingering.

"I have no idea what you're doing," he mutters, a slow smile now curling his lips. "And I do not care."

"I—"

He tips forward, sending a little thrill through my body with his tiniest of movements and short-circuiting my brain into silence. "Don't. Care. So long as I get to kiss you again."

I stare up at him, feeling suddenly derailed. My thoughts are silent as he smiles down at me, his warm eyes now roaming languidly over my face. His masculine, spicy scent tickles my senses, and when he squeezes lightly at my neck and draws me closer, his free hand settling at the small of my back and gently maneuvering me until my body touches lightly against his, I suddenly don't know what year it is or how many fingers I have.

"I… Uh…" I blink again. What's my name? Couldn't say…

He leans the last of the way down, and his warm breath ghosts against my lips. "May I?"

And why is that the most seductive thing I've ever heard? My lips part, and I… I'm supposed to say no, right? There's some sort of reason I shouldn't…

"You slut . " I start at the sound of Brad's outraged voice, and suddenly, everything comes crashing back down around me.

I jump away from Oli, the quiet in my mind shattering—or at least, I try to jump away. Instead of letting me go, the arm at my waist suddenly bands around my back and his gaze slices to the side to glare at Brad on the staircase.

"You ever call her that again," Oli growls, and I'm surprised by the deep shift in his voice, "and it'll be the last thing you say before you hit the pavement."

"Brad, I'm…" I stop myself, realizing where that sentence was about to go. Brad, I'm sorry.

And suddenly my anger is back, and I push out of Oli's hold.

I'm sorry? Is that how twisted Brad's manipulations have gotten me after all these years, that my gut instinct is to apologize?

I shove that instinct away, burning it in an imaginary bonfire as I throw daggers at my ex with my gaze.

"I told you to leave," I say instead. "Who are you to judge what I do with my partner, after what you did to me while we were still together?"

"I can't believe how low you'd stoop just to get back at me," Brad spits back.

"You're heading down a slippery slope we might never be able to return from."

For a second all I can do is gape at him. Is he really this delusional?

"I suggest you think long and hard about what you've just done," he continues, holding an old shopping bag he hadn't come in with, as he stares down his nose at me and heads for the door. His eyes briefly flick towards the huge minotaur behind me, who's slipped his arm back around my waist and is holding me protectively from behind now, but he otherwise ignores Oli's presence entirely. "We'll talk about this later."

And then he slams the door behind him with a flounce.

Olistaire huffs angrily, ruffling the hair on top of my head.

I scowl, still glaring at the door. "I hate him."

"Mm-hmm," he replies darkly.

I sigh mightily and let that familiar wave of exhaustion overwhelm me, giving myself a moment of guilty pleasure to sink back against Oli's embrace. His chest is broad and hard at my back as he supports my weight, and the heat of his body does wonders to relax my tense muscles.

"I never realized how desperate I was to be away from him," I whisper, barely paying attention to my own words as my brain experiences another shutdown, this one from pure mental fatigue. "Our relationship has been like this for so long now, one mental battle after another, and I just…"

Olistaire shifts, curling his body around me further, and another knot of tension leaves me at the sensation of being cradled, supported. "Call me any time, any day, Grace. I'll come."

His words puff out by my ear, and I look down at the thick forearm still wrapped around me. Crisp white shirt peeking out from a stylish blue blazer, in turn covered by my own arm. I hadn't even realized, but I'm gripping his forearm against me like it's a lifeline, my fingers wrapped around his short-furred wrist, and my heart tugs in my chest as his words wash over me.

When was the last time I felt this safe? Protected? Relaxed in the presence of a guy, instead of constantly on guard against pretty words hiding shitty intent?

Then again, Olistaire has some pretty words of his own.

Despite the thumping of my heart, which tries to tell me to stay right where I am, I tighten my fingers around his wrist and move it away, so I can step out of his hold. Giving in to my instincts has constantly led me towards handsome, charming men who cheat, and although Oli has proven to be nothing but a flirty gentleman so far, a cat's a cat no matter what angle you look at it. You can have a great relationship with a cat, so long as you don't forget yourself and start thinking it's a dog.

"Grace…" he says quietly as I unwind from his hold, but before he can say anything else, I notice a little tuft of fur fall from his inner wrist and I grab his hand again to inspect it.

"Oh god, I scratched you!" I take a step, turning his hand to the light. "Look, a little bit of your skin is showing. I scratched right through your fur, I'm so sorry!"

"Relax, beautiful," he chuckles, extricating his hand and tipping my face up with two fingers against my jaw. "You didn't hurt me. It's fine."

My heart does a little flutter. "No more kissing," I blurt.

He blinks, and with his fingers still at my chin, his gaze immediately drops to my lips.

"I know I'm the one who initiated," I say, taking a big step back from him and plastering on a smile. "You didn't do anything wrong. But no more kissing, no touching, no hugging me with your big, strong arms… None of that, okay?" He looks down at his arms, then back to me, and a hint of humor bleeds across his expression. "I mean, except for when we're around our exes, I guess," I amend. "Otherwise, we wouldn't be very convincing."

"You like my arms, huh?" His eyes twinkle, and mine immediately roll.

"Well…yes, they're very nice arms." I take another step back, but I feel my smile turn a little more natural. "Quit fishing for compliments."

He shows me his palms in surrender. "I'll only offer them. Scout's honor."

I roll my eyes again, but don't correct that statement. No harm in a few compliments, after all…

"What about you?" I ask instead. "Got any rules for our absolutely ridiculous plan that I'm still skeptical about, by the way?"

His big, charming grin returns full force. "Can I make a rule that says you have

to kiss me?"

"Nope." Although I immediately stare at his soft lips once more. We hadn't even kissed properly, not really. I hadn't gotten the angle right at first. I'd thought the differences in our face shape, with his slightly elongated, bovine sort of muzzle and flat black nose with the strangely appealing gold hoop, would make kissing difficult. But then he'd tipped my head just so, and… "No." I shake myself from my thoughts and refocus to see him smirking at me.

"Well, then, no," he says lowly. "Do with me as you please."

His eyes rove over my body, which sends a shiver of awareness through me.

"And no…looking!" I cry, although I immediately grin at the melodrama of my own words. "Stare at the ceiling only, thank you. Or maybe a blindfold and a cane would be better."

He snorts and runs a hand over one of his horns. "Alright, you've clearly had an overstimulating evening," he says, and though his eyes run over me once more, this time he looks away quickly, as if he hadn't meant to. "Maybe this is my cue to leave? Or did you want me to stay, in case he comes back?"

I sigh and start herding him to the door. "If you're trying to—"

"No." He stops and lifts a hand as if to touch my shoulder, before hesitating and dropping it back down. "I'll stay in another room if you're more comfortable." He darts a look at the door, frowning. "But that male is… I don't like him. I don't like him bothering you." His brown gaze is suddenly firm and unyielding as it bores into mine. "I was serious before. If he so much as tries to talk to you again, I want you to tell me immediately."

Something in my chest tightens and warms at that, but then, Brad is extremely persistent, so I wave away the offer. I'd be calling him all the time. "I've handled Brad for four and a half years, Olistaire. I can deal with him a little longer. You don't have to come find me for every little thing he does."

He raises a brow, and tips his horns down towards me. "That's my rule," he says with a tiny smirk. "You have to tell me. And if I find out you didn't ask me for help, then you owe me a kiss."

I huff, open the door, and gesture him out. "Goodnight, Oli."

His horns tip a little lower, and he doesn't budge. "Grace," he says warningly, and for all that he's still smirking, his tone sends a shiver down my spine.

"Alright, alright, I'll text you every single time he annoys me. Then you'll never get any work done and your entire business will collapse. Happy?"

He straightens, and his smirk stretches. "Very." He steps outside smoothly, but before I shut the door, he turns back to me. "And get a babysitter for Friday night. I'm picking you up for a date at seven thirty."

"What? I'm not—"

"You want to help me out with Sera, don't you?"

Oh, right. I sigh again, but as per usual around this man, I'm smiling as I start to shut the door. "Okay, fine. It's a date."