Oliver moved up from his low lunge pose to the reverse warrior then brought his joined palms to his chest with another deep breath. After 48h seating either on a plane or a car, his routine was both a blessing and a curse. It loosened his body and failed to rid him off the excess of energy he'd accumulated. The hour-long yoga session had barely scratched the surface. What he needed for a solid workout in a gym. Unfortunately, the house didn't have one. It was nestled on the side of a wooded hill like a well-kept secret, opulent without being ostentatious, both vast and homey, and it had a pool, but no gym. Oliver straightened up fully. It was either do more yoga, dive into the pool for laps, or go for a run.
He toweled off while he considered his options. Both bedrooms opened on the terrasse, so he risked waking up Chloe if he started treading water. He wasn't too keen on leaving her to wake up alone in a strange house, but chances were he'd be back before she put in an appearance. She'd been quiet after Lois' call. He wagered she'd tossed and turned a good part of the night, if she'd dozed off at all. As for himself, he'd passed out almost as soon as they'd separated for the night.
Now that light was pouring in through the opened curtains, he could enjoy the décor of modern materialism and oriental comfort. The bed itself ate most of one wall, the woodwork on the four posts a masterpiece of hickory brown curls. The complicated pattern repeated on the dresser and the ottoman. By contrast, the ultra-modern desk with its steel legs and glass countertop gave a welcome edge to the plush furniture.
He bounced on the balls of his feet. He needed to move.
Oliver padded barefoot on thick carpets in tones of brown and sienna red for his sneakers and a tank top. If she woke up, Chloe would zero in the kitchen and the top-of-the-line coffee maker as soon as she'd venture out of her room, he knew. He'd just put a note on the coffee-maker to tell her where he went.
He ran three miles down the road to warm up and get accustomed to the freshness in the air. The mild temperature wouldn't last. Turkey is May bordered hot when June was just around the corner. When his legs no longer felt like he'd put on lead rather than Nikes, Oliver abandoned the road to cut across the back of the property between tall sycamores and bushy fig trees. His lungs prickled with the heady scent of the blooming laurels. His arms pumped in sync with his legs. Sweat poured down his back and brow, stinging his eyes and he finally felt he could think clearly.
Walter was in charge in QI, and would only disturb him if he was really needed. In fact, Oliver was pretty sure his father's old friend would have been pushing him out the door if he'd been in Metropolis rather than London. He'd never seen someone happier to get extra work coming his way in such short notice. The League was in good hands with Victor and Hal. All he had to worry about was Choe and her maybe/maybe-not genitor. Who was to make an appearance in Bergama for a big bash at the Museum in three days. Oliver took a sharp turned and started uphill away from the sea with a large grin. He knew how to approach Carter Hall. Chloe was going to hate it.
He finished his parkour with an easy jump above the low stone wall at the end of the terrasse. The blonde woman savoring her coffee squealed in fright.
"Oliver!"
He took a minute to catch his breath, and eyed her behind his shades. She'd opted for cut-off shorts and a tee-shirt that hanged off the shoulder. Her exposed skin shone in the morning light. Oliver was curious if she would taste as delicious as she looked.
"Hi. How's the coffee?"
"It's good. How was your run?"
She slapped his hand away from her cup. Oliver backpedaled toward the stone guardrail so he could use as a support while he stretched. "Great! I needed it. Moving feels good. You should come with me next time."
"I'll stick with my own workout routine, thank you."
"You don't work out."
"Precisely."
Chloe's eyes followed his movements while he worked his calves first, then his quads. Oliver wondered if she even knew she was staring.
At last, he leaned a hip on the stone to face her. Since she seemed unwilling to make small talk, he decided to jump right in. "I think I know how to approach Hall."
Chloe pursed her lips, her gaze finally leaving his biceps to settle on the view behind him. "So do I…"
The annoyed tone and tensed shoulders suggested she'd reached the same conclusion that he had and yes, she didn't like it one bit. Oliver did his best to ignore the urge to soothe her. Or grin. His little sidekick was not a morning person. He'd teased her about that another time.
"Then we'll compare notes after I've showered. Can I trust you not to burn down the house cooking breakfast?"
"We have cereals," she deadpanned.
Oliver pulled a face. She laughed at his grimace. "I am not completely inapt, Oliver. I can manage breakfast."
"Excellent. Surprise me!"
He dropped a kiss on the top of her head to distract her, and made a swift exit toward his bedroom with her coffee.
Oliver stepped in the shower. The lukewarm water poured on his head and back in strong jets which washed away the dust and the sweat from his run. Oliver absorbed the impact with a satisfied groan. And let his mind wander.
He'd done his best to ignore the truth, chalking up the random whiff of desire to adrenaline after a mission or celibacy, but reality was catching up with him. He was attracted to Chloe. Very much so. And why not? Chloe was beautiful, incredibly smart, loyal. She couldn't care less about his status or the size of his wallet. She stood toe to toe with him when she disagreed with his decisions. Her sarcasm matched his cockiness. He loved working with her, and this first occasion to spend time with her proved to be everything he'd hoped for. They balanced and completed each other.
There were still parts of him she didn't know like there were things he was yet to discover about her. That was what dating was for, right? Discover the other person and see if anything would come out of the initial spark. He'd avoided relationships until now because no one had ever managed to capture his interest and hold it. But Chloe? She was worth taking the risk.
The men who'd overlooked her were idiots. Clark Kent? She deserved more than someone who trampled all over her feelings time and again, used her and then pushed her aside without a second thought. James Olsen? He wasn't sure what had happened with Jimmy exactly, but he could guess well enough. Olsen was immature and insecure, a boy who needed a second mother more than he needed a life-partner.
Chloe should be with someone who respected her, her intelligence and her strength. Someone who would treat her like a woman too, someone who got her, all of her. He did.
Oliver cranked up the temperature and grabbed the bar of soap.
Chloe barely acknowledged her own desires and aspirations. It would take more than Lois cheerleading in his corner to convince her to give him a chance. Moreover, he needed to prove to her that he was serious. To step up and away from his billionaire act, and let her see him. And to make it very clear that their future was not conditional to his help now. He was here with her as her friend. Even if he wanted more.
Patience was the word. He could be patient. If she played fair…
"French toasts?"
The bread slouched down in the bowl. Milky eggs batter splattered on the counter. "Will you stop doing that!"
Oliver grinned. "Do what?" he asked innocently. She was adorable when she was frustrated.
"Go all sneaky around me! You're doing it on purpose! Sit down."
"Bossy, Tower. You want a refill?"
He held the coffee pot up. She shot him another withering look. "What kind of idiotic question is that?"
"I'll take that as a yes. You know, you were more agreeable when I was barely clothed and sweaty. Should I lose the shirt?"
Being patient meant not acting on the images in her head—and his— not stop putting the idea out there.
"You're hilarious."
"I try."
"I wasn't complimenting you."
Oliver let out a low chuckle. A fluffy toast appeared in front of him, golden and mouthwatering. "Definitely grumpy in the morning. This looks good."
He lifted his head when she didn't answer right away. Chloe stared at her own plate with her fork poised mid-air.
"Hey…"
"I hate it."
"French toast?"
Her fork clattered on the table. "I hate asking you for more. You're my friend and I'm taking advantage of—"
"You're not asking, I'm offering. Come here."
Being patient didn't mean not comforting her, either. When Chloe didn't move, Oliver hooked his foot around her chair to get her closer. Chloe was the only one he knew who got on the verge of tears for asking for a favor. He looped one hand around her waist to hug her sideways, his chin on her shoulder. She smelled like the sugar and vanilla she'd put in her batter.
"What would be a vacation without a fancy party? Champagne, a beautiful date, tasty-looking canapés I can't touch in case they contain peanuts…" Chloe said nothing. "Chloe, I don't mind pulling some strings. It's not a big deal. Not to me."
"It is to me."
"Then thank me and let's eat."
Her petite hand slid to his for a squeeze. Then she used her arm to nudge him off. The kiss on his cheek that followed was equally gentle.
"Thanks, Ollie."
"You're very welcome."
She detached herself from him way too soon. "I have to call Lois. And Bart."
Bart? He catered to her every need, promised her the world on a platter and her first reaction was to call Bart? Lois, he could agree to, but Bart…
"I have a dress in my closet that should work. Do you need him to bring you something?"
Dress. Sure. Patience. Not re-enact Pretty Woman with Chloe in the role of—
"Let's just swing to the Museum this afternoon and see what's what first, okay?"
And buy some time before he had to endure Impulse's lame flirting with the woman Oliver wanted for himself.
