Page 68 of When I Was His

"One of them was sex. Surprise," Oliver quipped, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"What else do you have planned?" I pressed, curiosity lacing my voice.

"I thought you wanted to stay here alone all weekend?" Oliver countered, a hint of amusement tugging at the corners of his lips.

"I do, but if you keep getting interrupted by phone calls…" I trailed off, a note of frustration creeping into my tone.

I didn’t want to start an argument, but I was possessive of Oliver. I wanted to spend as much time with him as possible, and constant interruptions took his limited time away from me.

"I told my attorney to put it on hold until Tuesday," Oliver reassured me, his gaze softening.

"Put what on hold?" I prodded.

"I’m purchasing another business. We’re negotiating right now. It can wait," he explained, his voice tinged with determination.

"I don’t want to take you away from anything important," I admitted, a pang of guilt tugging at my heart.

"Right now, you’re the most important thing in my life. Nothing else can divert my attention like you can," Oliver confessed, sincerity shining in his eyes.

Setting aside the crab salad and fork, I wrapped my arms around him, pressing a kiss to his chest. I reached up to brush his hair off his forehead.

"I like your hair like this," I murmured, a fond smile gracing my lips.

"I don’t. I can’t work with my hair in my eyes," he grumbled, though a hint of amusement danced in his eyes.

"It makes you look young," I teased gently.

"Excuse me, I am young. Thirty-six is hardly old," Oliver retorted, a playful glint in his eye.

"To me, it is," I admitted with a smirk.

"Would you like to see how old I am? I bet you’ll tire before me," Oliver challenged, a devilish grin spreading across his face.

Before I could respond, he scooped me up into his arms and carried me upstairs, the promise of passion hanging between us like a shimmering veil.

Chapter 9

A week later, I found myself sandwiched between Finley and Matthew at a table, an achievement considering their hectic schedules. As we settled in and placed our orders, Finley launched into interrogation mode.

"What’s the deal with Oliver Fox? Are you two an item now?" Finley's sharp gaze bore into me.

I took a sip of my drink, stalling for a moment before responding. "Yeah, we are."

Matthew, usually the quieter of the two, chimed in, "Have you mentioned him to Mom and Anders?"

I shook my head. "Not yet. And I’d prefer if neither of you spilled the beans."

Finley leaned back, crossing his arms. "It’s your life. But I still think he's too old for you."

I raised an eyebrow. "Is it really his age that bothers you, or is there something else?"

Finley, always immersed in his business world, hesitated before replying. "No, it’s not that. I just worry he might hurt you."

I frowned. "Why would he be any different from any other guy?"

"Because he’s been around the block a few more times than you," Finley retorted. "He's got experience."

"So, you’re saying I’m naïve? A foolish girl who's going to fall for the wrong man?" My voice held a hint of frustration.

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