Answering to Him (Old-Fashioned Husband) (7 page)

BOOK: Answering to Him (Old-Fashioned Husband)
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“We will agree on them.”

I shook my head at him before pushing my plate away from me. I didn’t think I could eat another bite. After his last comment, my appetite had fled. “I don’t know if I want to do ‘this’, Oliver.”

I could feel his eyes on me even though I bowed my head to avoid looking at him. After a few minutes in silence, he signaled to our waiter and asked for the check.

* * * * *

 

It was a few hours after our lunch date, and I found myself replaying the conversation in my head as I folded laundry. I could tell Oliver hadn’t been happy with my response, but he hadn’t forced the issue. I was grateful for that. Still, I hated to disappoint him.

If I could just tell him why I didn’t like the idea…
if I knew myself, it would make things so much easier. For a moment, I wished I could go back in time; if I could, I would forget all about revealing my spanking fetish. It had been fun, for a little while, but it had caused more trouble than it was worth. I’d rather go back to our plain vanilla life, with sporadic, missionary sex than have him disappointed in me. I’d do it in a heartbeat if it meant I wouldn’t feel so confused.

When Oliver came home that night, I was waiting. I’d chilled a bottle of wine, reheated our leftovers from lunch, and slid into a slinky black dress that hugged my curves in just the right way and brought out the green in my eyes.

“You look nice,” he greeted me with a kiss. He broke away, but I pulled him back in for another, a long, lingering smooch this time. “Very nice.”

“Come eat,” I said, taking him by the hand.

“Where’s Jonah?”

“Eating with a friend.”

“Hmm. Which friend is this?”

“Rachel somebody, I think? Or was it Heather?”

“Ah, Heather,” he said knowingly.

“What?” I asked, turning toward him. “Who’s Heather?”

“Some girl he likes.”

I arched an eyebrow, waiting for more, but shrugged when nothing seemed forth coming. “Wish I’d known that before I said he could go. He said they were going to study.”

“Oh, I’m sure they’ll find something to study,” Oliver teased with the ease of a father talking about his son. I, however, was not reassured.

“Maybe I should call him.”

“Alicia, leave him be.”

“But—”

“Can you ever listen to me, woman?”

I inhaled sharply at the remark, setting my wine glass on the table with a loud thud. “What?”

Oliver ran his fingers through his short, dark hair. “This is unacceptable. You can’t want me to take an interest, you can’t tell me to handle these things, and then disregard what I say.”

“I’m not!” I protested.

“You are,” he replied in a voice that didn’t brook disagreement. “You are. Like last night—you want me to spend more time with him, but when I do, you get upset. You want me to talk to him about what kind of relationship he should have with girls at his age, but you don’t trust me to handle it.”

“I trust you!”

“Then listen to me. You are not going to call him, Alicia. When he comes home, I
will
talk to him, and you’re going to let me handle it my way.”

“So we’re back to this,” I said, clenching my jaw and plopping into my chair.

Oliver followed suit, sitting beside me. “Look, I did a lot of thinking when I went back to work…”

I stilled, holding my breath and hoping against hope that he’d say he’d changed his mind. Hoping that he would say everything could go back to normal. Even
as I thought it, something in me rebelled at the thought. I squelched that part down quickly, though.

“I think we need to get away for a little while.”

“What?” I asked, sure I hadn’t heard him right.

“When’s the last time we’ve had a vacation?”

“When was the last time you took a day off work?” I quipped.

“My point exactly. I think we should.”

“When?” I asked, surprised.

“This weekend. I think I’ll take Friday off, and we’ll have a three day weekend.”

“Can you really afford to do that?” I asked, biting my lip.

“There are some advantages to being senior staff.”

“What about Jonah?”

“He could stay with my parents,” he offered. “Or… he
is
thirteen, and it’s just a weekend. Maybe…” He gave me a sidelong glance. I shook my head, and he surprised me by nodding acquiescence. “I’ll give them a call.”

“Where should we go?” I asked, getting excited.

“I was thinking we would go camping.”

I laughed at him—only a man would call camping a
vacation
. Still, it would be nice to get away. We hadn’t been anywhere just the two of us since Jonah was born. “I don’t know if I still know how,” I teased.

“You’ll remember. It’s like riding a bike. And anyway, if you’re too delicate for dirt and sweat, we could always get a hotel room.”

I winked at him. “I happen to like sweat very much, thank you… a certain kind of sweat, anyway.”

“Oh, I bet I know just the kind,” he intoned, his voice smooth as silk.

 

Chapter 5

 

We were packed and ready to go first thing Friday morning. It had been so long
since we’d had a reason to pack, I’d nearly forgotten how organized Oliver was when it came to vacations—almost to the point of being dictatorial, an opinion I voiced often, if not to his face.

We were going closer to the mountains to camp, and the drive was surprisingly pleasant. I’d begun the trip with a knot in my belly, afraid that he was going to bring up the elephant in the room. Instead, we talked about Jonah, about work, and how quickly the time had been flying by. We remembered the earlier days of our marriage, laughing at things that had seemed so important at the time, but were now nothing more than a distant memory. 
Before long, I felt myself relax and found that I was enjoying myself.

Oliver pulled over and we ate a quick meal. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve been to
Ihop?” he asked when his pancakes arrived.

“Too long?” I guessed as he drowned them in heavy syrup.

“Too long,” he concurred.

When we got back on the road, it was already getting dark. I could see the grim set of Oliver’s mouth and knew that he wasn’t happy about it.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have had dessert,” I commented, with a quirk of my lips. We’d shared a hot fudge sundae and gotten into a spirited debate about whether or not Jonah knew that Santa was not real. It had ended with both of us laughing, because we were agreed that the myth had ended for him long ago, and that he was stringing us along just to get a lot of gifts.

Oliver didn’t answer, but kept his eyes straight ahead, the furrow in his brow growing more pronounced the darker it became. I knew that he hated having to set up in the dark.

Sure enough, by the time we checked in and got directions to our campsite, the sky was pitch dark. What little light there was from the moon was blocked by the forest of pine trees around our site. Some looked big enough to touch the sky itself. I knew that most women didn’t enjoy the great outdoors, but I loved getting away from the business of our everyday life. I loved how bright the stars twinkled, how crisp and fresh the mountain air was.

I didn’t have long to muse over the campsite, because Oliver was quickly getting annoyed. He didn’t say anything, but I could hear it in his grunts, and the way he kept throwing the poles down dramatically. “Need some help?” I asked with forced brightness.

“Yes, go ahead and light the lantern and bring it over here, please.”

I rummaged through our gear and produced our Coleman lantern. I turned the knob, but nothing happened. “Hmm,” I mused aloud. I tried again, with the same result. And again—this time, I saw a flickering of gas at the bottom, but it was quickly extinguished. “Oliver…”

“Bring it over here so I can get some light, babe.”

“Honey…”

“What?” He voice was exasperated and sharp.

“It’s not working.”

“What do you mean it’s not working? I checked it before we left.”

I shrugged my shoulders. What more could I say?

“Bring it over here.”

Obediently, I stepped toward him and handed him the lantern. He promptly twisted the knob, as I had, with the same result.

“Damn it,” he swore. “It needs to be replaced. Get a flashlight, please.”

I promptly procured a flashlight and started toward him. Thinking better of it, I doubled back and grabbed the spare, just in case. It was a good thing, too, because the first o
ne was in need of new batteries and flickered once before shutting off completely.

“Not off to a great start, huh?” Oliver remarked as I handed over our backup. When he pushed the button and it lit with a steady stream of pale golden light, I could have kissed the ground in relief. “You know what? Why don’t you go turn the car on?
The headlights will give me better light so I can see what the hell I’m doing.”

I arched an eyebrow at him, but he couldn’t see in the dark, even if he’d been looking at me instead of the
tent poles. It wasn’t like him to get so frustrated. Still, I thought it best to do as he asked, so I found the keys and walked toward our blue Minivan. Once there, I got in the car and switched the headlights on. Oliver sent me a thumbs up sign, and I decided to take advantage of being out of the line of fire, at least for a few minutes. I turned the radio on and began humming along with the music while pulling my cell phone out of my pocket.

A quick check showed me that I had one text from my son: Where do we keep the matches?

I felt my heart leap into my throat, and immediately pressed “Call”. Jonah picked up on the third ring. “What would you need matches for, young man?”

“Chill, Mom,” he said, laughing. “I was just kidding. You got there OK?”

“Yes, we’re fine,” I replied, trying to catch my breath. “Your father is having some issues with the tent.”

“Ugh,” my son groaned. “Not
again
. Mom, seriously, you should have stayed in a hotel.”

“Why’s that?”

“You know how dad gets with the tent. He can’t do it by himself, but he won’t let anyone else help, so…it’s kinda sad to watch.”

I scrunched my brow. “What are you talking about?”

“Boy scouts,” he prompted me, “OK, Mom?”

“Ah,” was all I could say. Suddenly, I remembered with astounding clarity the litany of complaints Jonah had made the few times his Boy Scout troop had gone camping and Oliver had come along. I winced.

Almost as if he could see it, Jonah said, “Yeah.”

“Well…”

“Good luck, Mom! Oh, and one more thing: no matter what happens, just remember, he loves you.” He cackled as he threw the same words I used to say to him back at me.

“Thanks a lot.
Don’t give your grandma a hard time, OK?”


I know, I know. Bye, Mom.”

Before I had a chance to reply, the line went dead. I turned my attention back to Oliver, watching as he fumbled with the flashlight. I saw his frustration in a whole new light now that I remembered the things Jonah had told me.

Better face the music, I thought to myself, opening the car door. I walked down to where Oliver stood, cursing underneath his breath. “Hey,” I said brightly. “Need some help?”

The look he turned on me was mutinous. He thrust the flashlight in my direction, and I took it
hesitantly. “Hold it there.”

I obeyed, crouching beside the tent until both of my legs fell asleep. It took what felt like an eternity, but finally Oliver had the tent set up. Once it was up, some of the tension started to leave his hunched shoulders.

“There. Why don’t you go shut off the car? I’ll start unpacking.”

“Sure,” I agre
ed, relieved that we could move on and enjoy our mini vacation. I went to the car and pulled the key out of the ignition. In the time it took me to get back to our tent, Oliver had unpacked the sleeping bags, where he’d laid out a sexy, lavender lace negligee that I’d brought with me, and his boxers. “What’s this?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Oliver looked up from lighting the lantern and I barely made out
his wink in the dim lighting. “It’s simple, really. You’re going to put yours on, I’m going to keep mine off.”

A giggle escaped my lips, and he finished lighting the lantern, bathing the tent in a warm glow. He looked up at me, and my hands hurried to comply with his request. I heard the sound of
him unbuckling his belt, and when I’d pulled my shirt over my head, I saw that my husband was naked from the waist down. The site of his hairy, muscular calves was enough to propel me toward him, and in moments, I was in his arms.

He met my mouth with enthusiasm, embracing me hard against him, kissing me so fiercely I lost my breath. I was still in my bra, and Oliver was
in his t-shirt. He reached a hand down and caressed my bare thigh, making me shiver. In one fluid motion, he pulled my panties down my thighs before pulling me over his lap.

“Hey!” I protested with breathy laughter.

“Did you just bellow at me?” he growled playfully. “Now, is that any way to speak to your loving husband?”

“Oh, is that what you are?” I teased.

I was rewarded—and I
do
mean rewarded—with a hard slap to my upturned rear. Another followed it, and another. I writhed on his lap, arching my back, every inch of my body begging for more.

“You really like this don’t you?” he asked in a voice as soft and rich as velvet. “Are you really such a
naughty
girl?”

The way he said it made me groan. I was becoming slick with my juices, and I was horny to the point of grinding on his lap. “Just fuck me already.”

“Language, young lady,” he scolded, swatting me again.

“Don’t make me beg.”

“Would it hurt you to beg a little?”

I laughed at his seductive tone. “Oliver!”

“All right, woman,” he said in mock-anger, flipping me over. “But remember—you asked for it.”

He took me to new heights that night. By the time we climaxed together
, I was nearly hoarse from calling his name. I found myself very grateful that we weren’t near any of the other campsites.

“Have I ever told you you’re beautiful when you blush like that? What are you thinking about?”

“Doing it again.”

Oliver chuckled at me, and when he turned around and reached for his boxer shorts, I saw that I’d scratched his back to the point of welts. I reached out and touched them gently, noting that they’d already scabbed over, but Oliver just grinned at me. “Oh, come on, don’t look at me like that. That’s how I know you like it.”

He pushed a lock of hair off my cheek, running his finger down my cheek, to the curve of my mouth. I kissed his finger and was rewarded with the warmth of his smile. Turning my head, I caught sight of my lingerie still folded on the floor. “Oh, no! I forgot!” I exclaimed, pointing.

“Not to worry,” he replied. “You can always make it up to me.”

I shook my head at him, pretending to be irritated with his antics, but in the end I put on the lavender silk nightie and did exactly that.

* * * * *

 

I wasn’t anywhere near ready to wake up when I felt my shoulder being shaken the next morning. I grunted and tried to bat the hand away, but it was persistent. When I opened my eye a slit to glare at Oliver, I saw that it wasn’t even light out yet. “What do you want?” I groaned. Couldn’t he see I needed my beauty sleep? Seriously, all he had to do was look!

“The car battery’s dead.”

“Well, what do you want me to do about it?” I demanded, less than graciously.

“I was going to go fishing,” he said, ignoring my question. “My pole is in the car.”

“Break a window,” I suggested, turning away and closing my eyes.

“Alicia!”

The sound of his sharp bark had my eyes
flying open, despite the sleep crusted in the corners. “What?” The word was more gasp than whine this time.

“Did you hear me? The car battery is dead.”

“Go fishing tomorrow,” I pleaded. “I’m so tired.”

“Baby, I can get my fishing pole. My key still works the old fashioned way, you know.”

“Then what?”

“Our car won’t start.”

I blinked at him, uncomprehending. “So?”

“Did you turn the engine on last night when you were in the car?”

“What?” I yawned.

“When I asked you to turn the lights on. Did you turn the engine on?”

Suddenly, I was more awake. “Um…”

He shook his head
, understanding immediately. “If you don’t turn the engine on, it runs the battery down, honey. Here’s what we’re going to do: I want you to get up and call Triple A to come give us a jump.”

“Ugh,” I groaned, sounding more like a teenager than a grown woman. “Do I have to?”

“We need a working car, Alicia,” he said patiently, as though explaining to a two-year-old. “What if something happens?”

“Nothing is going to happen!
” I exclaimed. Except that I might kill you if I don’t get some more sleep, I thought.

Oliver leveled me with a long, searching look. Normally I would have given in, but the birds weren’t even up for Heaven’s sake! I held firm, and eventually he nodded in acquiescence. “A
ll right, it’s your call. Just remember that later.”

“Whatever,” I muttered under my breath, rolling back over. I barely felt Oliver’s kiss on my cheek before I nodded off.

* * * * *

Oliver

 

I was still fuming long after I made it to the lake. At first I was able to focus on the familiar routine of picking my spot, baiting my hook and casting my line. No sooner had I done this, however, than Alicia’s face came swimming into my mind. That woman—what was I going to do with her?

She was a good wife, I knew that. She was normally sweet, and loving, but there were times where I really believed she disregarded her own safety, such as when she got speeding tickets. Other times, she ignored my concerns as though they were nothing, like she’d done earlier about the car.

BOOK: Answering to Him (Old-Fashioned Husband)
11.21Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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