Page 67 of The Payback Plan
Oliver woke at ten thirty the following morning, Paige snuggled into his side, her head tucked into the crook of his neck, her curls tickling his face and he smiled. He’d half expected to find her gone and the fact she wasn’t made him ridiculously happy.
He wasn’t fool enough to think that there wouldn’t be a reckoning over what had happened on the couch last night – and another two times in his bedroom. Paige might have given in to the vibe between them under the cover of darkness but he’d been privy to her guilt over a simple kiss. He figured her self-loathing over themsleepingtogether would be epic.
And he understood it. He didn’t feel great about sleeping with a friend of Bella’s either given how appallingly he’d already treated her.
But, conversely, it also didn’t feelwrong.
Despite the tabloids’ attempt to brand every woman he’d ever stood or sat beside since the non-wedding as anew flame, the very last thing on his mind had beenhooking up.Given the Bella disaster, he was happy to swear off relationships for life. Yet Paige, who had come out of nowhere and disordered his life, had somehow infiltrated his brain.
Which wasn’t nothing. Nor was it justhooking up, either.
Apart from a conversation (they should have had prior) about contraception and sexual health – she had an implant and they’d both been abstinent for a protracted period – they hadn’t talked much last night. She hadn’t seemed to want to and, selfishly, he hadn’t pushed. Frankly he’d expected her to immediately leap up in horror off the couch and the fact she hadn’t and then followed him – stark naked – to his room afterwards, had sewn a little seed of hope.
Maybe whatever this was, didn’t have to be a disaster. Maybe it had… legs? If they could just move past the Bella thing. Ifhecould move past the Bella thing.
Ithadonly been eight months since his dramatic split with her and, given it had been the most significant romantic relationship in his life, it was probably wise not to rush back in. Especially not when at the first whiff of a romance there’d be paps around every corner.
Which was why he’d always dated women who ran in the same circles and were used to that kind of normal – which wasnotPaige. Why would he subject the woman he had abunch ofcomplicated feelingsfor, to that?
His stomach growled, interrupting the spin of his thoughts and he suddenly realised he was hungry. He didn’t know what Paige would do next or even what hewantedher to do but he did know how to feed her and, after their epic, sweaty, calorie-burning session last night, they both needed to eat.
Hell, Oliver would probably need to carb load for the next three days just to make up for the deficit.
Paige stirred a little as he eased his arm out from under her head and he held his breath until her head settled on the pillow in a cloud of reddy-gold curls. He wanted to lean in and kiss the freckle on the tip of her nose but he didn’t want to wake her – not yet. Not without sustenance on offer. A hearty breakfast always made a person feel better about themselves and would hopefully spark a calm, civilised, morning-after conversation.
No one could have a calm, civilised conversation on an empty stomach, right?
Rolling out of bed, Oliver quickly pulled on a pair of sweats and tiptoed out of the room. Taking the stairs to the kitchen two at a time he was greeted by familiar grey skies and the pound of surf through the large window.
It made him shiver just looking at it. Surely winter was on its way out? It was going to beMarchin a few weeks. He’d seen a scattering of daffodils growing across the road yesterday for crying out loud.
Ignoring the weather, Oliver greeted Pavarotti who he’d rescued from downstairs sometime during the night when Paige had realised they’d left him in the media room in their rush to continue their sex-capades. His cage in its usual spot on the kitchen counter, the hamster scurried to the bars and Oliver ruffled his finger through his ginger quiff.
‘You hungry?’ he crooned. Which was a dumb question – Pavarotti, even the slimmer version, never said no to food.
After dealing with the hamster’s gastronomic needs, Oliver got to work in the kitchen, scrambling eggs, smashing avocado, crumbling fetta, squeezing lemon and producing two steaming mugs of coffee. It was strange not having Casper at his feet, shadowing him, waiting for food scraps that fell to the floor.
Rationally, Oliver knew that Casper had a home and an owner who’d been looking for him and it was right to see them reunited but that didn’t stop him wishing it hadn’t happened. Casper had been by his side as Oliver had bared his soul – his deepest, darkest secrets – and that bond went deep. No matter what he’d spoken out loud, Casper hadn’t judged him and that meant a lot.
Arranging the plates on a tray, Oliver inspected the aesthetic, satisfied with what he saw. It not only smelled good but was pleasing to the eye. It was missing something though and he knew exactly what. Striding down the hallway, he opened the front door spying the yellow blooms across the way.
Hoping like hell there wasn’t a stray pap lurking around, he sprinted across the road.
* * *
To his surprise, Paige was staring at the ceiling when he entered, both arms above her head. The fact she hadn’t disappeared the second she’d opened her eyes was something, right? Maybe shewasup for a conversation.
‘Morning,’ he said cheerfully, tray in hand. ‘I made breakfast.’
Her eyes met his. ‘So I see.’
‘You hungry?’
She nodded. ‘Starving.’
‘Good answer,’ he said with a grin as he set the tray in the middle of the bed.
‘Would you mind throwing me my nightshirt?’
