Meara and Oakley Ch. 05

It's 10 o'clock in the morning and I'm up making breakfast.

Two years into our marriage, I stopped cooking for Xavier. Which was a pretty big deal, considering I come from the type of family where food equals love. Or, at the very least, affection.

Xavier never even noticed.

But, this morning, in spite of the previous long day and night, I'm up and at 'em, tearing up the kitchen in an effort to make us the best damn breakfast Oakley has ever tasted.

He appears just as I've finished pouring our coffee, completely dressed, save for his button-down which hangs loosely from his hand. He's got his boots on and laced up. The sight of those gives me pause. Causes the smile that had been plastered across my face to falter.

"You made breakfast," he says as he saunters into the room. His eyes move over the place settings, and the matching plates piled high with pancakes, sausage, fried potatoes and scrambled eggs.

I swallow around the sudden lump of emotion which has risen in my throat. I didn't think he'd be ready to go so soon.

My feelings probably read on my face because he curls an arm around my waist and pulls me close.

"You look like you swallowed something sour. What's wrong?"

The tip of his nose grazes my cheek, my ear, igniting a line of heat directly to my cunt that's in complete opposition with what I'm feeling.

"You look like you're on your way out the door." My voice is soft. My fingers curl uselessly against his chest.

"I am. I've gotta get back. There's a few things I have to take care of before tonight."

I don't know why I'm acting so weird. The guy does have a life outside of here. I can't expect him to lounge around with me all day. Once again, reality smacks me in the face.

I am sad. That's the emotion slithering around inside my chest. It's been so long since I've felt it, I don't immediately recognize the heavy weight of it.

I don't like it. Sure, Oakley had taken a big step in coming to my parents party last night, but did it really make that much of a difference? It doesn't necessarily make us a couple. Right...?

I pull away from him, my head bowed to hide my face, but he drops the shirt and uses both hands to pull me back in.

"Aren't you gonna ask me what's happening tonight, Meara?"

I don't like his light tone. I don't like that he's making me feel like a love-sick cunt. All I want to do is trash all this food and crawl back into my bed.

God, I'm such an idiot.

"Meara?"

"Nah. Whatever it is, you have fun, ok?" My voice sounds thick and strange to my own ears.

I twist in his grasp, needing to put some distance between us, and he simply laughs. My eyes shoot up to his face. If this fucker is laughing at me, I will scratch his eyes out.

"You're so damned moody," he says, smiling, eyes bright in the rays of sunlight filling up the kitchen.

"Did you just call me 'moody'?" Rage spikes through me. It snaps sharply along my spine.

"I did."

He's taunting me. Teasing me. In this moment I very much prefer dark and brooding Oakley. That asshole knew how to keep his mouth shut at least.

"Listen here, fuck face-" I begin, but whatever I am about to say is cut off by Oakley's lips on mine. I'd like to say I struggled. I do not. I open immediately, moaning at the warm, wet taste of him, and the thick, dominating slide of his tongue. I moan helplessly, wantonly, because, damn, the man can kiss, and arch against him.

"That's more like it," he says when he pulls away. I've softened considerably. The cheat.

"Dick."

"Mmhmm," he grumbles, pushing said appendage against my hip. He's already rock hard and my fingers ache to curl around it.

He moves us backward and uses strong arms to cage me in against the counter. He bends low. Forces me to meet his gaze. His hair shifts around his shoulders.

"Now that I have your attention," he drawls. The humor bleeds from his face slowly. He's all serious now, and I don't know what to make of it.

"My brother wants to meet you."

My heart thumps solidly at his words, kicking and knocking wildly behind the bars of my ribcage. I don't know if it's excitement or apprehension. Can't really tell the difference. And the grave look on Oakley's face isn't helping me decide between the two.

"I don't... Is that something...you want?" I ask.

He licks his lips and I try to concentrate on what's going on rather than the lingering taste of him on my tongue. He seems so uncertain right now. This is reality. This is us outside of quiet nights and cold beers. Sex doesn't seem to be an adequate buffer any longer.

"I..." he begins, his eyes cutting away briefly before coming back to me. "There's a lot you don't know about me. I just don't want to put you in an uncomfortable position. But," he pauses. Slicks his thumb across my bottom lip. "If we're doing the whole family meet-and-greet thing, then... My brother is someone I'd like you to meet."

I slip my hands along the bare skin of his forearms.

"Forgive me if I sound like an asshole, but, you don't seem so sure about that."

He sighs. "I like the way you look at me, Meara. I don't want any of that to change."

Fucking riddles.

"Why would it?"

He looks as if he's about to say something, but then decides against it. He dips his head for another kiss, this one slow and easy as if he's savoring it, then steps back, putting a bit of distance between us.

"Come out with me tonight and then we can talk."

I'm used to Mysterious Mr. Oakley. I know he would never put me in a position where I would feel unsafe. I'm okay with whatever's beyond that. So, I nod, using all my willpower to keep my smile in check. I'm actually pretty excited to learn more about this man.

He turns away to grab his shirt and I lift my foot to nudge his leg while he puts it on.

"I slaved over a hot stove all morning to make you breakfast and you're slinking out on me."

He scoffs. "Two things: I don't 'slink', and I promise to spend a couple hours making it up to you."

I shouldn't cream as much as I am over those words.

"Walk me out."

It's not an order, but I salute him before sliding past him and leading us to the front door.

Once outside, he brings me in close. His lips slide along the curve of my jaw and I'm tempted to say 'Fuck it' and beg him to stay.

"What should I wear tonight?"

He chuckles. Pats my hip with his left hand.

"That's a trick question, right?"

I laugh, throwing my head back and pressing my body firmly against his.

"Only if you answer wrong."

He rolls his eyes. "Wear something comfortable."

His hair shifts over my hand where it rests on his shoulder. I turn it and allow the silken strands to sift across my open palm. He smells like my soap. My shampoo. I love it.

From my peripheral vision, I'm aware of a car slowing down in front of my house. I think nothing of it until said vehicle comes to a complete stop and it's engine is cut. The air seems quieter now that the engine has ceased it growling.

I turn my head to look at it more fully.

The car doesn't look familiar. It's all black, the tint on the windows so dark I can't make out who's inside. But I don't have to guess for long.

As if we were in a scene in a movie, the drivers' door opens and I think if I were capable, I'd probably shit a whole entire brick.

Why the fuck can't I just have one single moment of happiness and peace?

*****

Because when it rains, it pours.

Because I did something to someone in a previous life and karma is coming back to bite me in the ass.

Because the Fates truly hate me.

Because I can't have nice things.

Whatever the reason, any of them would explain why Xavier Tiller is high-stepping his happy ass up my front walk.

I don't even know what to say. Can't find the proper words to encompass every emotion running through me at the moment.

"Hey, babe. Miss me?"

I can't see his eyes behind the impossibly dark tint of his sunglasses, but I know he's leering at me.

The right words finally come shooting out of my mouth.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Xavier?"

Oakley tenses in my arms, his entire body going rigid and on high-alert.

Xavier is practically pouting and I hate that I used to find that shit so endearing.

"Seriously, Meara? Is that necessary?"

I slip out of Oakley's grasp and move to the top of the stairs, halting any forward progression Xavier had intended to make. My stomach feels tight. There's a pulse beating out a staccato rhythm above my left eyebrow.

"What do you want, Xavier?"

He slips his sunglasses off and tucks them into the collar of his shirt. His dark eyes meet mine. There's a sly look about them. He glances at Oakley, then back at me.

"I've been calling you."

I lift my hands in an open gesture. "I would have answered if I wanted to. Obviously, I didn't want to. Again, what are you doing here?"

Oakley must make some movement behind me because Xavier's gaze flicks to him, his face scrunching up as if he's smelled something foul.

"This your new guard dog?"

I hate him. I hate him so much. I have no clue what I had ever seen in him. The sight of him brings about a seething rage inside me.

"Maybe," I say. "Want me to sic him on you?"

Xavier scoffs and rolls his eyes.

"Did you get the flowers?"

Finally, Oakley speaks up, his voice low and underscored with a sort of malice that both scares and excites me. "She did. They're dead."

I want to laugh. I want even more for Xavier to be gone. I cannot possibly fathom why he would make a two hour drive to come see me when I've made it perfectly clear that I never want to see his lying, sneaking ass ever again.

Before he can say anything else, I cut him off. "Xavier, I'm not giving you any money. I don't owe you shit. Please, please, in the name of all that's unholy, please get back in whoever's car you borrowed and be on your way. I don't even want to know why you're here. I don't care why you're here. Leave. Now."

He stares at me a long moment, anger bleeding into and filling his dark eyes. It adds a faint rose tint to his otherwise olive complexion. To think, I used to believe he was the most handsome man in the world. The sight of him now makes me sick. Makes me hate myself for ever falling for his crap.

He doesn't speak for a long time. Then, "Grampa Tiller died. I thought you'd like to know."

This does give me a moment's pause. Only a moment.

"I'm sorry for your loss. Get off my lawn."

His jaw tenses, the color rising higher in his cheeks. He gathers himself easily enough. Shaking off whatever horrid thoughts he's thinking about me, he takes his sunglasses, flicks them open and slides them smoothly back onto his angular face.

"Thanks. Glad to see you're still such a bitch."

Oakley's past me and down the stairs like a shot. So fast that by the time it registers and I take off down the stairs after him, he's already got Xavier dangling by the collar of his shirt.

"Shit! Fuck! Oakley, drop him!"

Xavier is huffing and puffing, trying to break free of the much larger man who looks like he'd much rather kill him than let him go. His fingers dig uselessly into Oakley's forearms while his sneakered feet scrabble for purchase. His face is crimson now. His sunglasses are crooked.

"Say it again," Oakley growls. "Go ahead. Call her a 'bitch' again. Please, do it."

"Meara, get this asshole off of me!"

Oh, my God, I shouldn't find this so funny. Cool, calm and collected Xavier looks like he's the one about to shit a brick.

I'm hopping up and down beside the two, trying to get Oakley to focus, but I can barely speak around my own laughter.

"Oakley! Oakley, drop him. It's ok! Holy shit, I can't breathe! Fucking drop him!" I swat his arm and he releases Xavier, who goes skidding over the ground before righting himself.

"I should file assault charges against you, asshole!" Xavier screeches. He fucking screeches. It's priceless.

Oakley takes a menacing step forward and Xavier jerks back.

"Try it," I say. "Technically, you're trespassing."

Xavier gives me wide eyes, then narrows them. He looks about to say something else, but I slide in beside Oakley and lay my hand on his arm.

"Goodbye, Xavier. Feel free to never come back."

He spins on his heel, muttering curses under his breath while smoothing his hands over his clothes. Oakley and I watch him get into his car and, without so much as a parting honk, he peels away and is gone just as fast as he came.

I turn to Oakley who is glaring after the car, tense and glowering.

"That was awesome."

This gets his attention. "What?"

I fold my hands beneath my chin and flutter my eyelashes at him. "My hero," I sing-song, which only gets me another hard glare.

"This isn't funny, Meara."

I fail to see how it isn't, but I know when to keep my mouth shut. Mostly.

Oakley's eyes move down the road. Xavier is long gone, but his appearance has obviously made a lasting impression.

I take a step closer and, if at all possible, Oakley seems to grow more tense. He mumbles something, something which sounds very much like, "This is a bad idea" and I grow rigid, heat setting off dancing flames just below the surface of my skin.

"Oakley, that guy's a dick. Hopefully, he learned his lesson."

I'm apparently not doing a good enough job at placating him because those dark greens snap to me like they're on a tether.

"You don't get it."

"No, I don't. Enlighten me."

He stares at me a long moment, his green eyes sharp and full of fire. He doesn't speak and neither do I. I don't understand how everything changed so quickly. Sure, Xavier popping up was unexpected and I didn't expect Oakley to go all caveman on him. Maybe...

"Do you think I still want that douchebag? Is that why you're pissed?"

He sighs, long and hard, the weariness of the world in that one sound. Then, "I've gotta go."

I blink at him. "Wait. What?"

He's moving, storming off toward his truck before I've even had the opportunity to form a complete thought.

No 'Goodbye'. No 'I'll call you'. Just the rumble of his truck as he takes off down the road.

What the fuck just happened here?

*********

"Where in the world do you think you're going?"

Ella is standing in the doorway of my office, hands on her slim hips and a look of vague interest on her pretty face.

I blink at her, then return my gaze to the spreadsheet opened on my desk top.

"Um, nowhere at the moment."

She takes three long strides into the little room, and comes to a stop directly in front of my desk. She looks pretty in a lightweight burnt-orange cowl neck sweater and dark blue slacks.

"I mean, when you are ready to go, where are you going?"

I sigh. I don't know what she's doing here and I really don't want to know. I'd only stopped by to finish up my order sheets. From there... Well, I hadn't really come to a solid decision.

"Don't play dumb with me, Meara Elise. You don't wear make-up and skinny jeans to come to work. Spill it."

Why? Why can't I have a normal little sister who's completely self-involved and couldn't give two shits about me.

She arches a thin, perfectly manicured brow at me. "Hot date with Oakley?"

I don't know what emotion reads on my face, but she straightens to her full height and stares down the delicate line of her nose at me, her gaze full of smug knowing.

"Let's not play this game again," she says. "Just tell me."

I sigh again. It seems it's all I've been able to manage over the last couple days. Ever since Oakley went barreling off, all pissed and grumpy.

Two days have passed and I haven't heard from him. Haven't seen hide nor hair of him at the bar, or lounging in the shadows of my porch when I return home. Xavier continued his telephonic assault and I, finally, caved and changed my number. He hasn't shown his slimy face again, so that's some consolation.

But, the one person I want to see has effectively cut any form of communication.

I'm pissed. And hurt. Pissed at myself for letting down my guard and letting Oakley in; pissed at Oakley for being so mysterious and vague and not giving any explanation for his apparent freak out.

But what could I have really expected? I spent a little over six months fucking someone with the intention of not getting to know him. And, for this very reason. Getting to know someone forms attachments that can be hard to sever later on down the line.

I'm hurt because I actually freaking like him. He makes me feel safe. Wanted. My family likes him. He's fucking hot. He doesn't try to make me feel inferior. He makes my heart beat. I get excited when I see him.

But, he'd jetted at the first sign of trouble, even after he'd stood in the line of fire that is my family. Which makes no sense to me.

I want to write him off and simply say fuck it, however, my heart, my stupid beating heart wants a damn explanation.

I must have gone too far inside my head because Ella raps her knuckles against the shiny surface of my desk.

"Talk to me, Mimi."

I fold my arms across my chest and settle back heavily in my chair.

"Xavier stopped by my house two mornings ago."

Ella's face twists in irritation and disgust. "Why?" she says and all her feelings for my ex are encompassed in that one syllable.

"Exactly. He says his Grampa died, but that can't be all of it. I don't really know and I don't really care." I shrug. "I mean, there wasn't much time for an explanation after he called me a 'bitch' and I stopped Oakley from throttling."

This tickles Ella. She laughs loudly, clapping her hands. The sound is sharp within the small office.

"That's perfect. That's what he gets."

I throw up my hands. "And that's what I thought, too, but Oakley? Not so much. He was pissed."

Ella shakes her head. "Why?"

I wish I had answer. I don't.

"I don't know. He took off. I haven't seen or heard from him in two days."

Ella sucks her top lip between her shiny white teeth. "Do you think he's pissed that Xavier showed up? I mean, it's not like you invited him."

I offer another noncommittal shrug. "I don't know, but I don't think so." A memory hits me and I suck in a slow breath. "Before the party, he showed up at my house with a busted lip. I tried to ask him about it, but he got all guarded and defensive. Told me to leave it alone."

Ella's dark brow furrows.

Noise echoes from beyond the office door, voices rising and twining in what I hope to be jubilation. I can't deal with anymore bar brawls right now.

"Do you think he's into something... illegal?" She wavers on the last word. Her innocence always amused me. I'm glad Davis and my antics over the years never touched her. I almost envy her for it.

"I don't know!" Nervous energy shoots through my and I channel it into tapping my boot against the leg of my desk. "Which highlights the fact that I still know next to nothing about this man. He might have a bike shop in Denton. He might not. Oakley might be his real name. It might not."

Frustration forms a hard knot in my stomach.

"He has a brother he wants me to meet."

Ella lights up at this. "Well, that's good!"

"It was. I think that was the plan before Xavier showed up. Once Oakley went all caveman on him, those plans went out the window. I've texted him to let him know I got a new number, but it's been radio silence."

Ella plops down into the only other seat in the room, a slimsy chair opposite mine on the other side of the desk. It creaks faintly under her weight.

"Well, geez, Mimi. I can't figure this one."

"Me either, babes."

Her eyes move over me, over the white tank with the picture of a hip hop Bruce Lee emblazoned across breasts. And she was right. I'm wearing black skinny jeans along with black ankle boots. The heel is moderate. The buckles on them remind me of Oakley. This outfit is 'dolled up' for me.