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Mia held up her hand to stop whatever heroic thing her lover was about to say next. “It’s okay. I’m okay. It was a shitty lesson to learn but an important one.”
But Oliver wasn’t backing down. “What the fuck could you possibly learn from being sexually harassed?”
“I learned to push back, to take a stand and say no.” She let her lips lift in a smirk. “I learned to use my words instead of my fists.”
One blond eyebrow winged up. “Meaning?”
“Meaning guys learned very quickly not to lie about sleeping with me if they didn’t want me to lie about how tiny their dicks were.”
The deep rumble of Oliver’s laugh coaxed out a laugh of her own. “I’m guessing the fact you could beat the shit out of them didn’t go astray either.”
“Maybe,” she conceded, grinning. A grin that dissolved into a sad smile as Mia recalled what they’d been talking about before getting sidetracked. “If I was still in uniform I’d certainly consider beating the shit out whomever it was that didn’t pass on your message.”
Ollie’s smile slipped and he ducked his head, looked up at her from under his impossibly long lashes. “I had thought maybe you didn’t want to talk to me, that you were mad at me for not being at the funeral.”
Mia’s heart broke a little at the sadness in Ollie’s voice, in his eyes. “No, that wasn’t it at all. I know how much you loved mum. I know you would have been there if you could. And I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done since she…,”—she ducked her head and blinked away fresh tears—“you know.”
Ollie lifted Mia’s hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “I’m sorry, Mia. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
That was her Ollie. Always concerned for her more than himself. “I’m all right. I just miss her.”
“I miss her too,” he said, giving her hand a final squeeze. “Now, eat up. Jane will have our guts for garters if we let this go cold.”
They ate in companionable silence and simply enjoyed the meal and the atmosphere, and Mia did something she hadn’t done on a date in a very long time.
She didn’t think about work.
Instead, she shoved all thoughts of the veteran’s retreat and renovations and landscaping options and rehabilitation schedules to the back of her mind and focused on more important things, like not making a spectacle of herself by licking the bowl, because as always, Jane Melville’s cooking was sublime. The pasta was so damn delicious, and—holy shit—French champagne was incredible.
But when the meal was done, the silence lost its companionability and took on a more nervous edge.
Did Ollie feel it too? Or was she all alone in her little bubble of anxiety and doubt?
“Would you like to dance?”
Mia fiddled with her napkin. “We don’t have any music.”
Ollie pulled his phone from his pocket and a few seconds later a slow jazz wafted through the space. He stood and held out his hand, pulling her to her feet when she slid her palm against his.
Staring up at her date, she wondered how they’d managed to go so long without seeing each other. It wasn’t as if she’d never come home to visit her mum, but whenever she was in town, Oliver wasn’t. He was always off somewhere pretending to be a Viking, or teaching people his trade.
As time wore on, the longer she went without him in her life, the more she wondered if what she’d felt for him was even real.
But now, here, dancing with Ollie, his arm around her waist, her hand held in his, her other hand resting on his powerful shoulder, and his warmth enveloping her, protecting her, she wondered how she’d ever stayed away from him.
“I wish I’d known you were coming home,” Ollie said. “I would have laid out a proper welcome mat.”
Mia leaned into him and rested her head on his chest, smiled when he wrapped both arms around her and kept on swaying to the music. “I didn’t tell anyone I was coming home. Figured there wasn’t anyone to tell. Well, besides Rafe, but I didn’t want to deal with lawyers my first day back.”
“And me? Why didn’t you come to see me?”
She stiffened as the truth of her answer brought tears to her eyes once again. “I didn’t think I’d be welcome.”
“Why? Because you took my virginity then ran away and broke my heart?”
It was hard to miss the teasing tone of the question, but it still stung with a ring of truth. She nodded. “That may have had something to do with it,” she whispered, unable to stop the tears slipping down her face.
“Hey. Look at me.” All teasing was gone from his tone as Oliver cupped her cheeks and made her look at him, wiped away her tears and calmed her nerves with gentle strokes of his rough fingers on her face and neck. “You listen up and listen good. You will always be welcome in my life, Mia. Always.”
