The Big O (An OTT Insta-love STANDALONE) (12 page)

I smiled. “Yes, that was her favorite one. She called it her donut dress.”

“It’s so special. Where did she get it?”

“At a thrift store or flea market. Maybe a garage sale. They’re all famous designers from the fifties and sixties. The collection is probably worth a small fortune. I’ve had a couple of appraisers come over who have told me they could fetch as much as a hundred thousand dollars at auction, but I have no intention of ever selling them. They meant too much to both her and my father.”

Olive cocked her head like a puzzled puppy, her big brown eyes begging to hear more.

“My mother worked very hard with my father in his donut shop seven days a week. Besides her beloved custard-filled donuts, she had one other indulgence. Every Sunday for a few hours she would leave my father to run the shop by himself and scour flea markets, second-hand shops, and garage sales for these kinds of things. Though you’d never know from the functional clothes she wore at work, she had great taste that was matched by her great eye. She loved Hollywood glamour and worshipped pinup girls. Every Saturday night, she’d get dressed up in one of her vintage finds and go out dancing with my father. My father adored her in these outfits and they both loved to dance. And I used to love to watch my mother get dressed up because I knew how much pleasure it gave both her and my father.”

The pool of tears that had dried up resurged. My Olive began to sniffle again.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong now?”

“Oh, Owen, that is the sweetest story. I’m so sorry I misjudged you. Can you ever forgive me?”

“Oh, princess, there’s nothing to forgive.” I took her into my arms, gently brushing away her tears. “How could you have known?”

I tilted up her chin and stared into those loving, soulful eyes that all but melted me. I began to kiss her tears away before planting a passionate one on her lips. Our lips stayed locked for a very long time until we ended it together, both needing some air.

I brushed a few loose strands of hair out of her face, soaking in her beauty. “Hey, we should get ready to go the office. We have a big day ahead.”

Olive looked forlornly into my eyes. “I don’t have anything to wear except the outfit I wore yesterday. And I’m afraid your marketing director Mallory will grow suspicious if I wear it again. I think she’s dangerous and could stir up trouble.”

I listened attentively. Olive was right. After Clint’s totally out-of-line assault on me yesterday, I had to protect Olive from Clint’s predatory behavior the way a lion protects his mate. Maybe I could take Olive shopping for some new clothes, but when I glanced down at my watch and saw that it was only six thirty a.m., I silently cursed. Not a single clothing store would be open at this hour. Then an idea struck me and I knew this was all meant to be.

“Olive, my beauty…”

“Yes?”

“I want you to pick out a dress from my mother’s vintage wardrobe. Anything you want. She was about the same size as you, shoes and all.”

“Owen, I don’t think I can do that. These clothes belonged only to her.”

“No, Olive. I believe there’s another reason I’ve saved them. I’ve waited so long for a woman who could measure up to my mother. Someone who’s kind and loving. Someone who is as sweet as they are smart. And I think I’ve found her. It’s you.”

“Oh, Owen!” Olive’s lips trembled. “Are you sure?”

“I’m more than sure. Maybe you’d like to wear the donut dress. I think it would look stunning on you.”

Quietly smiling, Olive bent down to pick up the roses scattered around her. She gathered them into a bouquet and handed them to me.

“And these are for you. I thought you might like to take them to your office.”

I put them to my nose and inhaled them. Their intoxicating scent made me dizzy. As long as I’d lived in this big house, I’d never stopped to smell the roses.

They gave new meaning to my life.

And my beautiful Olive gave it the most meaning of all.

She’d soon be wearing more than my mother’s dress. I couldn’t wait to slip it on her ring finger.

B
y seven thirty, we were in Owen’s car en route to his corporate headquarters. I was dressed in his mother’s vintage dress along with a pair of her platform pumps. Both fit me perfectly, and I must say the beautiful full-skirted pink dress with its whimsical chocolate-colored donuts and halter neckline complemented both my coloring and curves. Beneath the dress I was wearing a beautiful silk corselet, something else I’d found in her closet. Though the delicate Made in France item must have dated to the fifties, it was brand new as the tags had never been taken off. My brows lifted to my forehead when I saw the price—$12.99 and it was from Saks! Oh my goodness! I bet today such a luxurious undergarment would cost hundreds of dollars.

I was in awe of Owen’s mother, and he was in awe of me. Several times he took his eyes off the road to tell me how beautiful I looked. I felt myself flush with love each time he did.

Given his wealth, I was surprised Owen didn’t have a driver. When I asked, he told me he enjoyed driving himself to and from work. He liked being in control. And being behind the wheel also stimulated his mind. Some of his best ideas came to him when he drove.

The car—or should I say, monster—suited Owen perfectly. It wasn’t a convertible sports car or something fancy like a Rolls Royce. Rather, it was a jet black Hummer. If you asked me, it was the perfect car for the Donut King. An urban assault vehicle. Big… powerful…intimidating. Yet just like my beautiful companion, a man of substance and contradictions, there was a comforting gentleness to it as it hummed along the 101 Freeway. The scent of the soft leather and the bouquet of roses by my feet made a heady combination.

The Big Band music that his mother and father used to dance to was piping through the stereo system. I sat back in my comfy seat and let myself be transported to another time as I listened contently. Frank Sinatra began to play. He was singing “Someone to Watch Over Me.” As his smooth as velvet voice filled my ears, the words of the song struck a deep chord in my heart. I just couldn’t believe how much my life had changed in the last twenty-four hours. Yesterday at this time, I was an unemployed trainwreck about to lose her apartment. An orphan, lost in the woods, who had no one to watch over me. Today, I was a big beautiful woman with a promising job and best of all, the man I’d loved forever to protect and cherish me. Tears clustered in the back of my eyes. I’d never been so happy.

Halfway through the song, Owen began to sing along. My heart melted. He had the most beautiful voice I ever heard. A deep rich baritone, and I could feel his heart in every word. Harmonizing with the title words, he turned his head and glanced at me. His sapphire eyes burnt a hole right through me. It was if he was singing the song to me. A few tears escaped my eyes.

“Princess, why are you crying again?” he asked when the song ended, lowering the volume of the radio.

“I-I don’t know,” I spluttered. “It’s something about that song.”
And the way you sang it.

Keeping one hand on the wheel, he clasped my hand and put it on the stick shift, entwining his long fingers with mine. A melancholy smile formed on his lips.

“Olive, that was my mother’s favorite song. It embodied the relationship between her and my father. When my father passed away, she played it over and over. She would tell me he was watching over her from heaven.”

“How did your father die?”

“A heart attack. He died in his sleep. He was a lot older than my mother, fifty-five to her forty.”

“I’m sorry,” I said softly as I calculated his parents’ age difference in my head. His father was fifteen years older than his mother. Probably the same difference in age between the two of us. A sudden pang of fear stabbed at my heart. I couldn’t bear to lose this man. Though I’d only known him for day, it felt like an eternity and the love I felt for him was immeasurable. Beyond anything I’d ever known.

“Owen, I’m scared.”

“What are you scared of, my Olive?”

“Of…of losing you.”

He squeezed my hand. “Don’t worry, my princess. I’m not going anywhere. I’m yours forever.”

His words comforted me a little. But there was something else weighing on my mind.

“Owen…”

Taking his eyes off the road, he glanced at me. “What now, my love?”

“I’ve been thinking…” My voice trailed off.

“About what?”

I gulped a breath. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to have sex in the office or even let it be known there’s something between us. It’ll raise eyebrows and rumors will circulate. I’m especially worried about Mallory. She’s a troublemaker and really seems to have it in for me.”

Owen furrowed his thick bushy eyebrows and pinched his lips together. He was deep in thought. I kept my eyes on him as we shared a short but tense silence.

“Fine,” he said at last. “But just know it’s going to be very hard for me to keep my hands off you. If you hear me growling in my office or barking at employees, it’ll be because I can’t have you. I may have to kidnap you at lunch, take you to a deserted lot, and fuck you senseless in the backseat.”

My body heated at his words. I squirmed in my cushy leather seat from the rush of flutters that clustered between my thighs. Lunch sounded so good.

A saucy smile curved up his lips. “Don’t worry, my princess, we’ll stop for a bite afterward. I plan to keep you well fed for the rest of your life.”

I returned the smile as he turned off the freeway. Somehow, the distance from his office to his house seemed longer last night.

“Is this the exit to your headquarters?” I asked, taking in my surroundings.

He smiled. “We’re taking a little detour. I want to take you somewhere first.”

Anticipation coursed through me. Was he already taking me to a deserted lot? I craned my neck and took a quick peek at the backseat. It was definitely big enough for the two of us. The thought of making love with my Donut King on the leather banquette was enough to give me a mental orgasm. My pussy was still vibrating from the earth-shattering pleasure he’d given me this morning. I faced forward again and looked out the window. We were on a busy street that was filled with strip malls. It seemed unlikely that we’d be coming to a vacant lot anytime soon. And then my eyes grew as round as donuts as he pulled into the parking lot of the next strip mall. The familiar sign with the big pink “O” glared in my eyes. We were at a Donut King! Parking in a spot that was marked “Reserved,” Owen hopped out of the SUV and came around to help me out.

Stepping on my tippy-toes, I flung my arms around his broad shoulders, jumping up and down like a kid in a candy shop. Donut King was my candy shop. I so loved Donut King donuts and couldn’t get my fill of them. I felt the same way about the Donut King himself. I loved him and couldn’t get my fill of him. An orgasmic rush of happiness filled every crevice of my being.

A huge ear-to-ear grin spread on Owen’s face as I smacked a kiss on his lips; wearing his mother’s vintage platforms made them easier to reach. “Oh, Owen! You’ve taken me for donuts!”

“This is the original Donut King shop. The one my father opened in the fifties. The one that started it all.”

I glanced up at the big neon sign and it indeed mentioned it was the original. The words “Serving fresh donuts since 1959” flashed beneath the big pink donut. I was in awe as Owen continued, remorse creeping into his deep voice.

“Sadly, we may have to close it down as business has been terrible. The Starbeans next door is killing us.”

My eyes shifted to his competition and the long line of people waiting for its doors to open. The Donut King was already open for business, but there wasn’t a soul inside. My heart ached for Owen as he escorted me inside the deserted store.

It looked like all the other Donut Kings I’d been too. It had a funky retro feel to it that was fun and uplifting. The color scheme took its inspiration from a pink frosted sprinkled donut—mint green, hot pink, aqua, and chocolate brown. Though there were several fifties-styled booths for dining-in, a see-thru glass case dominated the cozy space in which trays of neatly arranged, mouth-watering donuts in all varieties were arranged in rows. It didn’t look like a single donut had been purchased. Behind the glass counter was another counter with coffee machines, napkins, cups, and paper bags. The tantalizing aroma of the freshly baked donuts and coffee made me giddy.

From a backroom, a buxom redheaded woman who looked to be in her early sixties, emerged. She was wearing a short-sleeved pink dress with a white apron bearing the company logo and was carrying a large tray of freshly baked glazed donuts. Her eyes grew wide at the sight of Owen.

“Owen! How wonderful to see you!”

“Good morning, Marge.” Owen seemed equally glad to see her. The sadness in his eyes gave way to a cheerful glint.

“Can I offer you a donut?” she asked as she set the tray inside the counter next to the others. “They’re fresh out of the fryer and still warm.”

“Yes, and a cup of coffee with extra cream and sugar. Make that two of each.”

Owen introduced us. I soon found out that Marge was his mother’s best friend and had been working at this location since the store’s opening. With her crinkly but vibrant toffee eyes and her deep, husky voice, there was a warmth to her that I found instantly appealing. Owen was obviously very comfortable around her and introduced me as his girlfriend.