Author's Note: Are we on board with the quicker page Oliver is keeping? I know I am. It's been fun to see him a little bolder while still trying to keep him in character. I hope I'm accomplishing that. If Oliver's head is my happy place, then Shane's head is my happier space. How did her first day in the DLO turn out? More importantly, how did her celebratory dinner with Oliver go? Oh, these two. Are we back to baby steps?

Chapter 4

By the time Shane was done working with Rita that first afternoon, she had a much greater appreciation for the work of the DLO, even if some of it was rather tedious. She could easily see why Rita's photographic memory was invaluable as they sorted through the hundreds of letters that sat in incoming. Rita's quirkiness was rather endearing, and she listened as Rita waxed on about addresses, zip codes, and Norman. Shane wondered if Rita knew how often she interspersed some story or comment about Norman into their conversation. It was sweet, and she was curious to know if Norman spoke the same way about her. She remembered Becky's teasing one night, accusing her of speaking Oliver's name multiple times. She'd feigned ignorance at the time, but now it was clear that from the outset, he'd unwittingly woven himself into her thoughts.

From her position in incoming, she had the advantage of a direct sight line to Oliver's desk. As much as she tried to focus on Rita and her explanation of duties, she was powerless to resist the urge to steal more than a few furtive glances at him. His desk was uncharacteristically cluttered, and the pile of papers he'd been reviewing didn't appear to be getting any smaller. A few times, he caught her staring, and her lips would press into a tight, thin line to keep her from smiling, remaining mindful of their discussion about how to carry themselves in the workplace. But as their eyes met, and one side of his lip curled up ever so slightly, the involuntary buckling of her knees had her grasping whatever was close to steady herself. She hoped it appeared as nothing more than a casual gesture, but for her, it was much more, and her clammy hands and the trickle of sweat that meandered down her back were proof of that.

By the end of the day, she was tired but fulfilled in a way she'd not experienced before. It was amazing how satisfying it was to do something as simple as redirecting a letter to ensure its delivery. Her plans for the evening included a long soak in a hot bubble bath while sipping on a glass of the velvety Pinot Noir waiting in her wine rack. Multiple episodes of the mindless reality show she swore she would never watch were recorded and downloaded onto her iPad, ready for her to catch up. She said good night to both Rita and Norman but stayed at her desk, hoping for a few minutes alone with Oliver before she left for the day. She heard his approach, but her focus was on the search results on her screen.

"How was your first day, Ms. McInerney."

Shane chuckled at his formality. "It was wonderful, Oliver. Rita is really amazing with her photographic memory." She lifted her gaze, and her breath stuck in her throat. Workday Oliver and after-hours Oliver might be dressed the same, but the shift from one to the other could be found on his face and in his voice. The intensity of his blue eyes, as they darted between her lips and her eyes, overwhelmed her, and a warm flush crept up her cheeks. Her resolve to follow the professional guidelines of the workplace crumbled even further when he covered her hand with his. As he traced lazy circles on her skin with his thumb, she felt an electric sensation coursing through her body. Her nerves were on fire, and she couldn't help but quiver in response to his touch.

"Shane, I was hoping you might have dinner with me tonight to commemorate your first day on the job."

Her stomach fluttered as butterflies took flight when her name rolled off his tongue so easily. The air grew thick around them, wrapping them in a bubble of intimacy that left her dizzy and thankful to be sitting. It took her a moment to find her voice, but she finally was able to answer.

"I would love to have dinner with you, Oliver. Where should we go?"

He chuckled. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but maybe you could open up your computer and find someplace."

She missed his touch when he moved his hand so she could open her laptop to do a search.

The restaurant she'd found was close to her house. Leaving the cars there, they chose to take advantage of one of summer's last balmy evenings and walk the short distance to dinner.

As they strolled side by side, she relished how natural it was to tuck her hand in his outstretched elbow, her fingers clinging to the fabric of his jacket. It was a small gesture, and though she considered herself an independent woman, she rather enjoyed Oliver's old-school etiquette. He was, in every sense of the word, a true gentleman.

Was it possible that the offering of his arm was a reflex, born out of his years with...? Shane grappled with herself to keep from spiraling into the thoughts of Oliver and his ex-wife. Despite her best efforts, visions of them together continued to creep into her head at random. Every time one of those insidious images popped up, she remembered Oliver's sudden disappearance. Logically, she knew it was for the right reasons. But it was too reminiscent of how Steve would vanish into thin air at a moment's notice, and while the flames of pain her heart had experienced were now settled, the embers remained, ready to flare at any unexpected moment.

She felt the warmth of Oliver's hand as he reached over and covered hers with a firm hold. A tear stung her eye, and she blinked it back. It was as if he had read her thoughts and was doing just what she needed to be reassured. She settled into him, comforted, as they walked in perfect unison. She shot a glance at Oliver's profile, noting the gentle smile on his lips. She wondered if he was as content as he appeared.

She knew she would need to tell him about Steve at some point. After all, she knew about Holly. But wasn't that different? Oliver was married to her, and though she had briefly entertained the idea of what it would be like to marry Steve, the idea was short-lived and permanently discarded when she moved to Denver. Wanting to get Steve off her mind, Shane shifted her attention to Oliver. "Oliver, I didn't even ask. Do you like Chinese food?"

"Well, of course I do. Doesn't everybody?" He sounded a bit perplexed that she would need to ask him.

"I'm sorry, you just seem like a…"

Oliver gave her a look. "Like a what, Ms. McInerney?"

Hmmm. Ms. McInerney? A wave of uncertainty washed over her. Was his formality a sign that she'd offended him with her assumption about his culinary likes and dislikes? She slowly turned toward him and saw the mischievous grin on his face. She couldn't help but chuckle and gave him a half-hearted slug on the shoulder.

"I just meant you strike me as more of a meat and potatoes man."

"Hmm, I understand why you would think that, given my proclivity for the traditional, but I actually like a variety of foods."

"Well, Mr. O'Toole, that bodes well for future dinners." She gave him a quick wink. Shane checked the map on her phone. "I think this is it."

They stood, looking up at a wall of rusty red and brown bricks that made up the structure's facade. Crumbling mortar and chipped edges hinted at the building's age. There was no sign, only a number. If it weren't for the menu taped to the door, one wouldn't know there was a restaurant inside.

Oliver's laughter rang loud, breaking the tranquility of the evening air as he read the name on the menu. "Little Ollie's. Really?"

Shane giggled, pleased that Oliver found it as humorous as she had. "As soon as I saw it, I decided it must be fate if it's named after you."

"I don't really believe in fate," he said.

Shane grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the door. "Well, it has excellent reviews."

If the exterior of Little Ollie's was the dilapidated, broken-down jalopy sitting on the far end of the car lot, then the interior was the sleekest, newest model in the center of the showroom floor. Two steps inside the door and Shane's senses were brimming. The dimmed lights created an intimate atmosphere. Purple neon lights ran across the ceiling, bringing a modern touch to counter the walls painted in a vivid orangey-red color. Paper lanterns hung along the perimeter of the room, adding a traditional Chinese touch. The bar was an entire wall of mirrors and shelves, boasting an impressive collection of liquor options. White-clothed tables were positioned on the floor to allow diners ample privacy.

Shane took in a deep inhale. The aromas of sesame, soy, and ginger made her mouth salivate. "Oh my gosh, Oliver, this isn't what I expected at all. Doesn't it smell divine?" She felt as though she'd unearthed a hidden gem, and if the food was as good as its first impression, she could imagine many dinners here, with Oliver, maybe sitting at the far corner table where they could be in their own little world. She turned, eager to see his reaction to his namesake. His eyes were scanning the space, and he seemed distracted.

"Oliver, is everything okay?"

His head jerked in her direction. "I'm sorry?"

"You just seem..., well..." she exhaled. "I can't tell what you're thinking."

Oliver took a step toward her, close enough that the scent of his cologne fused with the scents coming from the kitchen. His voice was low and husky. "And how does that make you feel?"

Her jaw dropped, and her eyes grew large. She tensed as the timbre of his voice reverberated through her.

His brow arched, and he gave her a playful smirk. "Just ensuring our privacy."

Ah, she thought as her muscles relaxed. Even this far away from the office, he was making sure no one would see them together. "And did you recognize anyone?"

"No, I did not."

"Good, then let's enjoy our dinner." At that moment, someone came and led them to a table along the far wall. They perused the menus and debated the merits of sushi versus classic Chinese dishes. Finally, they placed their orders: sushi for Shane and a more traditional lemon chicken for Oliver. The waiter brought them their drinks and left them alone.

Oliver raised his glass in a toast. "To your successful first day and many more to come."

Shane blushed, hearing only 'many more to come.' "So, Oliver, has anyone ever called you Ollie?"

"Ahem, my wife, my ex-wife, would call me that on occasion. It is not my preferred name."

Oliver's clipped response was all Shane needed to know she would never call him by that nickname. He didn't look like an Ollie anyway. He was definitely an Oliver.

She pivoted to the safer topic of the DLO. She talked more about how training with Rita had gone, and he told her some of the other areas she would be focusing on in the next few days. Their conversation never lulled.

When the food arrived, Shane offered him a bite of the expertly rolled sushi that was plated with the talent of a true artist. He held up his hand, declining her offer. "Oliver, don't you like sushi?"

"I prefer my food cooked."

Shane's eyes lit up as she tossed her head back and laughed. "I can't say I'm surprised," she said.

She teased him about using a knife and a fork while she demonstrated a masterful proficiency with chopsticks. She grabbed the seaweed-wrapped delicacy and brought it to her mouth without dropping a single grain of rice.

"Would you like to try my chicken?"

With her eyes glued to him, she leaned closer and opened her mouth. He brought the fork to her, and she clamped her lips around it. Her eyes flickered, and she smiled as he pulled it away.

"Thank you, Oliver." She swallowed without taking her eyes off him. "Mmm, that was delicious."

The evening was going well, and Shane thought how easily she could grow accustomed to dining with Oliver.

Oliver carefully put his fork down, folded his napkin, and placed it beside his plate. He took a few moments to make minor adjustments to the position of each, ensuring everything was aligned perfectly. If it weren't for the remnants of food on his plate, one wouldn't even know he'd been there. Shane had seen this before. It was right before he asked her to come to work at the DLO. Her skin tingled, wondering if he had something to ask her now. The clearing of his throat brought her attention back to him.

"Ms. McInerney, tell me about your friend, Becky."

As soon as she heard him refer to her as Ms. McInerney, a chill seemed to settle over the table like a low fog hanging in the morning air. Her smile faded quickly at his use of Becky's name.

She slowly folded her napkin and placed it next to her plate. "What would you like to know that you haven't heard already?" She asked casually.

"You mentioned at lunch that she managed to arrange a rather expedited transfer for you to Denver."

Where was Oliver going with this line of questioning? "I guess some might consider it expedited."

His eyes narrowed. "Was there a reason you needed to move from Washington so quickly?"

Shane's hand instinctively reached for the gold disc with the purple stone that had hung delicately around her neck since she was a young girl. Her fingers slid the charm back and forth along the chain. While some people had emotional support pets, Shane had an emotional support necklace, and she held it tightly in her fingers as she spoke, "Oliver, can we talk about this later?" Her eyes darted around the room. The restaurant wasn't busy, but it wasn't a topic of conversation she wished to have out in the open. "Maybe somewhere more private?"

Oliver wasted no time signaling the waiter. His smile, which had charmed her all evening, was replaced with a contemplative look that begged the question, what was he thinking? He requested the check, her unease growing steadily, and she wondered what thoughts were rolling around in his head.

The sun was now just a thin sliver of orange barely visible along the horizon as they began their walk back to her house. Streetlamps illuminated their path, casting large cones of light along the way. A heavy silence hung between them, each apparently lost in their thoughts. When Oliver offered his arm to her, it was a small assurance that the evening hadn't gone entirely wrong. Yet.

She hadn't made a big deal about how she ended up in Denver. Norman had asked at lunch, and she had answered. She didn't even realize Oliver was listening that closely. Shane spent the walk back to her house deciding how much she wanted to share with him about the circumstances surrounding her departure from Washington.

They arrived back at her place, the silence still an invisible barrier between them.

"Oliver, why don't you sit on the swing? I'll go make us some tea."

"Yes, tea would be good."

Shane escaped to her kitchen and grasped the cold, smooth edge of the granite countertop to steady herself. Uncertainty washed over her like a wave against the shore. Oliver was still fresh off his own relationship turmoil. How would he react to hers, and was she ready to share it with him?

The tea kettle whistled, and she pulled two teacups from her cabinet, filling an infuser for each. She poured the hot water over them and, setting each cup on its saucer, she waited for the tea to steep. As she watched the water transition from clear to reddish-brown, she made her decision. She pulled the tea infusers from the cups and put them in the sink. She set the cups and saucers on a tray and, rummaging through her pantry, found the package of decadent dark chocolate fudge cookies she'd discovered at Whole Foods. Oliver may not want them, but she could use a dose of serious chocolate.

Carrying the tray onto the porch, Oliver jumped from his spot on the swing to meet her and take the tray from her.

"Thank you, Oliver." She smiled, but it felt feeble.

He placed it on a little white table that matched the swing, being careful not to spill.

After they were finally settled, Shane reached for her teacup with both hands, trying to control her shaky hands. She didn't want to risk spilling the hot tea and burning herself. She took a deep breath and blew on the steaming liquid, her eyes fixed on Oliver's every move and expression. She couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking or if he noticed her nervousness. "Okay, Oliver. What do you want to know?"

He stopped mid-sip, and she was sure her directness had caught him off guard.

"Shane, I've been thinking. I don't mean to pry into what is your business. But I know how slowly the wheels of the USPS can turn at times, so I found it surprising and curious how your friend managed such a move so quickly."

Her stomach twisted, and her knuckles turned white as she gripped her cup. The decision to share her story with Oliver didn't come easily, but she knew how important honesty was in a relationship. She also knew that by keeping it bottled up would only make it worse, like a pressure cooker waiting to explode.

"Becky and I became friends when I first went to work at the USPS. She was running HR for all of Washington." Shane's words were slow and measured as she began. "At the time, I was dating someone who…well, let's just say Becky thought I could do better."

Oliver leaned in and reached for her hand. His thumb began its familiar motion, tracing circles over her knuckles. The warmth of his touch silently encouraged her to continue.

"I thought she was just being overly protective like a big sister would be, so I kept dating Steve." Shane noticed Oliver's wince when she said Steve's name. "Becky could see better than I could how Steve's sudden, unpredictable disappearances for work and radio silence were taking a toll on me."

"Sometimes people on the outside can see what the person on the inside can't," Oliver offered.

"Yes, well, that was certainly the case with me. I think I was caught up in the glamour of dating someone like him. I guess my self-esteem and confidence weren't strong enough to fully remove myself from the relationship." She paused. "I tried a few times, but he kept pulling me back in. So, finally, Becky did it for me."

"Ms. McInerney, in the time I've known you, I have never considered you to lack confidence."

Shane leaned in, and with a flicker of her lips, she smiled. "It just goes to show you how being in the company of the right people brings out the best in you."

As she shared her story with Oliver, she felt the weight of it lifting from her shoulders. Yes, it was scary to make herself vulnerable to his judgment, but so far, Oliver had been nothing but comforting and supportive.

Oliver used his finger to tuck a lock of hair behind Shane's ear. She leaned into his touch as his thumb stroked her cheek. "I would like to meet Becky. She sounds like a good friend who has your very best interest at heart."

"She is, and she does." Her brows furrowed. "I was so angry with her when I found out she was behind my transfer, but now I'm grateful for it."

"So am I." His eyes locked with hers. "And what has become of this, this, Steve?"

"He came to see me when he found out I lived in Denver. He was gone on one of his trips when I moved, so it took weeks for him to realize I was gone."

Oliver's eyes widened at the news that Steve had been in Denver.

"He thought if he came to see me, he could convince me of the 'error of my ways,' as he put it." Shane shook her head, still disgusted by Steve's arrogance. "But, by then, I'd met you...guys, and I realized how much I was beginning to fall in love with...Denver." She swallowed hard, realizing how precariously close she had come to slipping Oliver's name into that statement. "So, I told him he needed to go back to D.C. and leave me alone."

"And has he?" Oliver asked.

"So far." Exhaling, she watched Oliver's eyes narrow. "Really, Oliver. Listen, he's not a bad guy, just a bad boyfriend."

Shane breathed a sigh of relief as she finished sharing her past. She felt Oliver squeeze her hand and realized he was still holding on. She turned to him and gave him a sleepy smile.

"I think it's time I take my leave. We have another full day tomorrow." Oliver set his teacup back on the tray.

They stood, and Shane reached for the tray. Oliver stopped her and grabbed both of her hands. She lifted her gaze to meet his.

"Thank you for telling me. I hope it didn't dredge up too many painful memories."

As he reached for her hands, she felt a rush of sensations course through her body. Every nerve came alive at his touch. The softness of his lips on her skin sent her pulse racing, and she could feel her heartbeat in her chest like a bass drum. She closed her eyes, lost in the moment. When he finally lowered them, she opened her eyes to see him studying her face. Her heart and her lips ached for more than this simple gesture. Her vow of patience was getting harder to keep, but she would keep it. For now, she would hold on to the precious memory of this moment.

Author's Note: Yes, I know sushi is a Japanese delicacy. Little Ollie's is a real restaurant in Cherry Creek (Shane's neighborhood) that serves both Chinese dishes and sushi. Oliver and Shane's dinner choices are from the menu I found online.