by Haley Travis
Then her hand pressed the center of my chest. “Owen?” she murmured as she tore her lips from mine. “Maybe we shouldn’t…too much too soon. You know. We’re working together.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” I said, stepping back and releasing her except for her hand. “We can take things at any speed you want.”
She exhaled, nodding. “Thank you for understanding.”
“Anything to make you happy,” I said as I looked around the room again. “Believe it or not, I think we were really efficient. Are there any other shots that you wanted to get?”
Bryn stood unnaturally still as she thought, then tilted her head to the side slightly. It was almost as if she was a computer scanning the room. “No,” she said slowly, “I think that’s it.”
“I’m going to contact that diner of yours to get permission to shoot there, and tomorrow night we’re going to a beautiful old movie theatre for some shots of their lounge.”
She gave me a pointed look. “Oh, really? We’re working again tomorrow night?”
I shrugged. “They’re not open during the day. And there’s a late-night movie event tomorrow. I already called my friend who works there so we can get in at seven while they’re setting up.”
“And you just assume that I’m available?” she giggled.
“Let me rephrase. Brynn, my lovely girl, are you available tomorrow night, so that we can work on this amazing documentary, but more importantly, so that I can admire you in a beautiful theater?”
Her laugh was so light. “Yes.”
We returned all of the furniture back to its original places, then I paid our tab, tipping Arthur generously since he had refused to charge us for the use of his space.
After driving Brynn home, I wasn’t surprised when she didn’t ask me into the little gray apartment building. She seemed like the sort of girl who needed to take her time getting comfortable with me, which I understood.
Walking her to the front door, I waited until she had her keys in her hand to ask, “May I kiss you good night?”
She nodded, stretching up to meet me, making the most of the thrilling heat between us as we gently kissed. Brynn pulled away too soon, but there were a few people walking by on the street. I sort of loved that she was so timid. It was strangely cute.
“I’ll text you tomorrow, sweetheart,” I said, kissing her forehead then standing back to watch her walk inside.
She waved as the elevator doors shut, and I went back to my car to send a text.
Me: I don’t care that it’s cheesy. I miss you already. Can’t wait to see you tomorrow.
Brynn: I was just thinking the same thing. But this seems really fast to me.
Me: I understand. I’ll try not to tell you how dancing with you was the highlight of my entire year. I’ll also try not to tell you that I’m going to be dreaming of you. xox
I waited for a few minutes while those three dots floated on the screen before she responded.
Brynn: Goodnight. xox
5
_____
Brynn
The next morning was spent working maniacally. Forcing myself to put all thoughts of Owen aside, I wrote out the entire documentary script, with a full list of accompanying visuals.
Since it was going to be short, with footage from the bowling alley, the diner, and a movie theatre, we really only also needed a record shop and a bunch of closeups of old 45s.
Working with Owen was so natural that it felt like we’d known each other much longer than we actually had. Which got me thinking about him again. And those kisses. And the way he held me.
It was absolutely outrageous how close I felt to him. He seemed to hang on my every word, and actually read my body language.
When I’d pulled away from that dreamy kiss that was starting to feel too emotional, he was happy to release me immediately, and wasn’t offended. That spoke volumes, telling me that he was assertive, not aggressive. It was a crucial distinction.
There was no logical reason for such a gorgeous man to be so attracted to me. Since he was easily ten to fifteen years older than I was, he must have had dozens of relationships. A man who looked like that would have women falling at his feet.
His interest made me feel slightly uneasy. I wasn’t someone who could help his career beyond a few small jobs. I wasn’t well connected, or glamorous, or impressive.
It was weird to think that he just liked me for me. But if people have proven anything to me over my twenty years on this planet, it’s that people are usually weirder than you think.
I emailed the outline of the script and shooting list to both Jonathon and Owen. Jonathon’s response came within minutes.
“Great work, Brynn! I’m impressed that you’re shooting already, and glad that you’re supervising the shoots personally.”
Owen’s text came as soon as I was sitting back at my desk with a fresh cup of coffee.
Owen: You’re so organized and efficient. I really admire that. How’s your day going?
Me: Thanks. Things are good. I have a bunch of proofreading to do for a colleague this afternoon. Quiet busywork.
Owen: Should I pick you up at home or the office at six?
Me: It’s supposed to rain, so here at work would be great. Thank you.
Owen: See you soon, sweetheart.
My cheeks felt like they were flushing, and I hoped nobody walked by my cubicle for a few minutes.
My parents weren’t very warm people, and I’d never had a real romantic relationship. Owen’s casual affection and direct attention were brand new to me. I wasn’t sure how this sort of thing worked, so I sent a quick text to the girls.
Me: You’re not going to believe this, but I think I have an almost-boyfriend.
Corina: That’s amazing! Who?
Jenna: What?!
Me: Yeah. He’s the videographer that I’m working with on that project where I started with the opposite of logical.
Corina: What did you come up with?
I laughed at Corina being more focussed on the work than my potential new man.
Me: We’re doing a short documentary.
Jenna: And you’re dating already?
Me: I guess so. I mean, it seems like it. It just happened.
Corina: He took one look into your eyes, and sparks flew?
Me: Basically, yes.
Jenna: I understand completely. It’s hard to believe, but it’s really like being hit by lightning, isn’t it?
Me: Exactly. Last night he kissed me in a bowling alley. It was so crazy sweet!
Jenna: Haha!
Corina: LOL! That’s adorable.
Me: We’re shooting at another location tonight. Will have to see what happens.
Jenna: Go for it.
Corina: Keep us posted.
Me: Will do.
Telling my girlfriends somehow made my brand new relationship real. I had a boyfriend, more or less. It was completely and utterly bizarre.
***
After an afternoon of proofing and paperwork, I fixed my hair and makeup, hoping that I looked both pretty and presentable for a work event. My dark green dress brought out the red in my hair and skimmed over my curves in a sexy yet modest way, if such a thing was possible. It made me look slightly less busty, which was always my goal.
Slipping on my coat as I went out to reception, Owen was already there. He held a bright blue umbrella, and I noticed that the large window was glossy with rain.
I was very relieved when he didn’t hug me in front of my coworkers.
“Hey, Brynn,” he smiled warmly, then he looked at my feet to check out my leather boots. “Glad you’re not in heels. The rain’s been coming and going.”
“Just let me know if my hair turns disastrously frizzy. Other than that, we’ll be fine.” I waved to Rachel at the reception desk as we got into the elevator. The shower stopped just as we stepped outside.
Owen guided me into his car, then as soon as my door was closed, the rain came pelting down as h
e dove into the driver’s side.
He laughed, shutting the door quickly and drying his hands on his pants. Then he ran a hand through his hair. “Good enough?” he asked.
“Yeah.” I couldn’t find the words to tell him that his hair was darker when it was wet, making him look like he was fresh from the shower. That sent all sorts of strange tingles through me.
As he drove to the theatre, we chatted about work and various restaurants and places we passed. The whole time, I was terribly aware of how close our bodies were. Maybe it was that everything was a bit damp and steamy, but all I could think about was how he might touch me if we were actually alone.
Could I ask him to come home with me tonight? Or rather, should I? At first, I wanted to take things slowly, but these feelings were becoming too wild to tame. Staring at his perfect profile, those incredibly inviting lips, I felt heated straight to my core.
Owen reached over to give my hand a squeeze, then pulled into the back parking lot of a gorgeous old theater.
“I’ve heard of this place, but haven’t been here before,” I said.
“Good. I want to take you lots of places for the first time.”
I could think of one significant first time that he could help me with, but tried to put that out of my mind. The rain stopped, giving us just enough time to get the camera equipment safely inside before it began dripping again.
“Perfect timing,” Owen laughed. “Let’s go.”
The little lounge was amazing, and the creative angles he was finding for the video clips were incredible. They had a wall decorated with records – both 78s and 45s. I was assisting as much as possible, but felt both weak and energized every time I looked at Owen’s shoulders.
I’d never stared at a man like this before, and finally decided that I was going to find a way to ask him in for a drink tonight. It was time for an act of bravery.
I felt less daring as time went on, and we both became absolutely obsessed about getting one perfect shot. The more we worked so well together, the more my nerves kicked in, reminding me that we were coworkers. Maybe I shouldn’t rock the boat.
A beautiful old-fashioned record player was spinning right next to the album-covered wall, but Owen wasn’t happy with the overhead shot. Standing on one of the low chairs didn’t quite give him the height he wanted, due to the shadows.
“What about this table?” I asked, pointing to a small but sturdy-looking cocktail table.
Owen smiled widely. “Great idea, but that won’t hold my weight.”
“What about mine?” I asked.
“No,” he said firmly, then quickly added, “I mean, it would absolutely take your weight, but I’m not letting you stand up on that.”
Strangely, I loved that he was so protective of me. Nobody had ever cared so much that they’d refused to allow me to try something.
“What if I knelt on the table and stretched the camera up over my head?”
He stood back, considering the distances and making mental calculations. “It might work. Are you sure you’re okay with that?”
“Of course.” I’ve never had a problem with heights, and my balance was reasonably steady.
Owen positioned the table, with a chair beside it, helping me kneel carefully. Because it only had one leg that flared into the base, it was a bit shaky, but he held the table firmly.
Taking his camera, he hit record and then handed it to me, and I stretched up to get the spinning vinyl shot against the wall.
“That’s likely perfect,” he said.
Now that I was in position, I could see the angle he really wanted. Carefully stretching up, I managed to reach another inch or so, staying as still as possible.
The overhead lights flickered, making me jump slightly.
In a flash, I was in Owen’s arms as he pulled me off the table to set me on my feet, his camera swinging dangerously from the strap wrapped around my wrist.
“Careful – the camera,” I squealed.
But Owen just held me against his chest. “Screw the camera. I’m not having you crack your skull open.”
The lights flickered again, even harder.
“The storm must be getting worse,” he said, stroking my hair as he held me still for another few moments. “I think we have enough shots. Let me take you home.”
It was amazing how efficient Owen was as he packed up the equipment, and we put the room back in order. As we went out to the parking lot, the sky was nearly black as the rain came down in sheets.
“Wait here,” he said. Balancing the umbrella over the equipment, he stashed everything in the backseat. He returned to escort me to the passenger seat, somehow barely letting a drop of rain hit me.
I appreciated that he drove us quite slowly as he headed to my apartment, but as the streets became slick, I suddenly grabbed his arm. “Please don’t take the bridge,” I blurted, surprised at how hard I was trembling.
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“There was an accident on the bridge last year. I can’t…”
Owen pulled into a parking lot, stopped the car, and wrapped an arm around me. “Talk to me, Brynn. What can I do?”
I shook my head. “I’m sorry, I just…I’ve never seen it rain this hard, and storms always upset me a little at the best of times. I’m sure it’s fine. Just ignore me.”
“No, sweetheart,” he murmured, taking my hand. “I’ll never ignore you. But the only other way to your house is driving south, all the way down to the highway. Do you want me to do that?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. The highway would be even worse with all the transports and large trucks.
“My house is about three minutes north of where we are right now. Do you want to come to my place for the night?”
I knew that I should try to be brave, and get over my slight phobia of that old bridge. But I would much rather be indoors as quickly as possible.
A bolt of lightning slashed across the sky, followed five seconds later by a rumble of thunder so deep it made the back of my neck prickle in fear.
“I’m going to decide for you,” Owen said softly, running his thumb along the edge of my cheek. “Let’s take you to my house and get you indoors as fast as possible. All right?”
I nodded as another bolt of lightning nearly burned out my retinas. He gave my hand a squeeze, then leaned back into his seat, smoothly pulling out of the parking lot and heading north.
Even through my fear, I felt my body become aroused by how he was taking care of me.
The rain came in waves, bouncing so hard off the car it was getting uncomfortably loud. We drove into a nice neighborhood filled with large houses, but all I could see were dark silhouettes and a few porch lights through the falling water.
“I may have lied,” he said, trying to make me smile, “It’s usually a three-minute drive from here, but I’m going slowly, so it might take four or five.”
My laughter shook a bit of the tension out of me, and by the time we pulled up to a stylish red brick house surrounded by a tall cedar hedge fence, I felt a bit better.
We raced inside, and as I kicked off my shoes, I noticed that the entire first floor had large black and white photographs on every available wall.
“Wow, those are beautiful,” I said.
“Thanks.” He stashed the camera gear in a massive closet in the foyer, then came over to stand near me as I studied the photos in the open living and dining room.
“You took all of these?” I asked, walking around and observing every detail carefully. This space suited him perfectly – bold and thoughtful, yet completely fascinating.
“Yes. I did still photography before I moved on to video.”
“Absolutely amazing.”
His cocky grin made me feel that deep spark of heat in my belly again. It suddenly occurred to me that I hadn’t asked anything about the sleeping arrangements.
“Come on upstairs,” Owen said. “I’ll find you something to sleep in, and you can stay in my bed. I’ll
take the guest room.”
Following him up the stairs, he went into the master bedroom and turned on the bedside lamp. “You should be cozy in here,” he said, smiling at me in the soft amber light.
Setting my purse on the dresser, a strange feeling of inevitability washed over me.
Owen really was absolutely fine with us staying in separate rooms. He hadn’t even touched me since we walked in the door. Somehow, the way he was so careful to make me comfortable made me trust him completely.