by Mia Madison
“You mean the basement?” I teased. “I don’t know—that place was kind of homey.”
“It smelled like mildew.”
I scrunched up my nose as the memory returned. “I guess it did. I never really paid much attention.”
“Well, I can assure you—the new place is mildew-free,” he leaned to the side, giving me a sly look as he whispered, “I checked every room before I bought it.”
“Is there a basement?” I whispered back.
“You’ll see.”
The vague promise was followed by a wink. I tried to convince myself that it was only wishful thinking on my part, but it felt an awful lot like he was… flirting with me. Which was just ridiculous.
But in the back of my mind, I swore I heard Layla’s voice whispering, ‘Damn. This lunch just got so much more interesting.’
“Wow,” I said in awe as I entered the door and looked around the foyer. “You weren’t kidding when you said it was a step up. More like five steps.”
“It’s nice, yeah? Come on—I’ll give you a tour.”
I slipped my shoes off and left them beside his at the doorway, barely managing to hold back my gasp of surprise when he suddenly reached for my hand and led me further into his home. I tried to pay attention to the rooms as he showed me around, but all I could really focus on was the warmth of his palm against my own.
“What do you think?” he asked at some point during the tour, interrupting my thoughts.
“It’s lovely, Owen. It’s very… big.”
It wasn’t a lie. Owen’s new house seemed to be twice the size of ours and it seemed a little excessive to me for one person.
Seemingly able to see where my thoughts had gone, Owen shrugged and said, “I know it’s a little much for just me, but it was within my price range. Why not, right?” He waited until I nodded in agreement before he softly added, “Besides—I imagine it won’t always be just me.”
The hopeful fantasies in my head began to crumble and I gently pulled my hand out of his grip. He looked me over with curious blue eyes, an expectant look on his face.
“Have you—I mean… Are you seeing someone?” I asked, my cheeks red. “I-I haven’t heard anything since… since you and Amber broke up.”
Owen’s spine straightened, the look in his eyes hardening. “Yeah. That wasn’t… Well, it wasn’t the most pleasant time of my life. No, I’m not seeing anyone. But you never know what’ll come up unexpectedly.”
There it was again. That weird look that made my heart flutter in my chest and Layla’s chuckling voice tease me in my head much like she had done with Jeremy the day before.
I shoved the inappropriate thoughts away, forcing a smile as I asked, “Is it almost time for lunch? I’m getting hungry.”
“Of course,” he said, shaking his head to himself like he had momentarily forgotten about lunch. My stomach twisted as he reached for my hand again. “Can’t have you going hungry on my watch, now can I?”
I laughed nervously as we walked into the kitchen hand-in-hand and he finally released me to make a gesture at the bar stools that were positioned at the island counter.
“I can help,” I protested, rolling my eyes when he clucked his tongue at me.
“No cooking on your birthday,” he argued as he placed his hands on my shoulders and steered me toward the chair. “Sit.”
“Yes, sir,” I dryly said with a small smile.
The way his body tensed beside me drew my attention and I felt the sarcasm drain as I took in the very serious look in his eyes as he stared me down. I swallowed hard just as he did and my eyes were instinctively drawn to the almost seductive way his throat bobbed.
“What would you like?”
His husky voice didn’t help ease the strange warmth that had started taking over my body. It actually had the opposite effect and I soon felt like every inch of my skin was on fire. I shifted in my seat, drawing in a shaky breath as I shrugged.
“I-It doesn’t matter. Anything.”
Owen hummed and abruptly turned away and I used the opportunity to slam my eyes shut and take a few deep, sobering breaths. What the hell was happening? It felt so very far-fetched to even consider that he might have been similarly affected by me as I was by him.
But the nagging voice in my head said it was true. It was the only thing I could come up with that would explain the weird tension between us.
If only I had any idea what to do about it.
As Owen buzzed around the kitchen, ignoring my presence for the most part, I tried to consider other possible reasons for the weirdness when it struck me like a lightning bolt.
We hadn’t seen each other in a long time—not to mention I hadn’t been alone with him since I was fairly young—so it was understandable that he’d be a little uncomfortable now that I was grown up. If I were in his shoes, I imagined I’d be acting pretty strangely as well.
Satisfied that I had a logical explanation, I frowned when I realized that I wasn’t happy about it. I supposed I was grateful to have figured it out, but I couldn’t be thrilled about the fact that my deepest desire would remain unsatisfied.
“What’s wrong?”
I jerked my head up from the spot on the counter I’d been staring at, looking through wide eyes at Owen’s frozen form on the other side of the island. I slowly shook my head which only made his frown deepen.
“You look sad,” he said as he shook his own head. “You shouldn’t be sad on your birthday—or ever. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Charlie.” It was a warning.
“I’m fine, I promise. Just hungry.”
The look on his face made it clear that he wasn’t buying it, but he seemed to understand that I wasn’t going to give up the truth. With a huff of frustration, he turned back around and resumed making lunch for the two of us.
“You still like rosemary chicken?” he asked, the lingering irritation obvious in his clipped voice.
“Of course.”
I shifted around uncomfortably, saddened by the fact that my stupid wandering brain had soured our reunion. I thought Owen’s return was going to be the best birthday present ever, but it was starting to feel like I was going to single-handedly destroy what little remained of our already strained relationship.
“Are you thinking about that boy?” he abruptly asked, breaking the silence.
“What boy?”
“The boy who was flirting with you yesterday,” he dryly elaborated. “Did you have plans with him or something?”
I laughed—a full-blown belly laugh. Through the thin film of tears, I noticed Owen smiling at me like I was a nutcase, but I couldn’t help myself. After I calmed down, I slowly shook my head.
“I’m-I’m so sorry. That’s just—it’s funny. You did hear my father yesterday, didn’t you?”
“About you not being able to date?” he asked with a scoff. “I always thought he’d eventually let go of that, but I guess some things never change. But I bet you’ve found some ways around it.”
“Maybe Finley did,” I mumbled and I clasped my hands together on the bar. “But I haven’t.”
“Never?” he asked, his eyebrows raising high with shock. “You’ve never been on a single date?”
“No,” I forcefully said, glaring at him. “And thanks for making me feel like even more of a loser than I already did. It’s not like I chose to be one.”
Owen rushed around the bar, startling me with his quick movements. He had an apologetic look on his face as he shook his head and whispered, “That’s not what I was saying. You’re not a loser, Charlie.”
And there they were. The typical tears that welled up for various reasons every year on my birthday. Would I ever get through one damn year without blubbering over something ridiculous?
“Aren’t I?” I asked pitifully as I wiped them away before they had a chance to fall. “I’m twenty-one years old and I never—I haven’t even—I am a loser.”
“Come
here, princess,” he said as he tugged me off the chair.
In a daze, I recognized the feeling of his chest pressed against my face as his arms snaked around my back. God, it felt so right to be engulfed in his presence that any thoughts of my tears or the reason behind them evaporated in an instant.
He didn’t seem to know what to say and I didn’t care—I was too busy enjoying the sensation of being so close to him. I sighed as I turned my head to press my cheek firmly against him, feeling my stomach flip when I heard his rapid heartbeat.
“Just because you haven’t been on a date doesn’t mean you’re a loser,” he murmured into my hair. “I’m sure you’ve had plenty of offers.”
If it hadn’t been so unladylike, I might have snorted. Instead, I shrugged as much as his embrace allowed.
“Not really.”
“What about that boy?”
“He asked me on a date and I was too freaked out to even say anything,” I admitted, feeling emboldened by the fact that I wasn’t forced to meet his eyes. “He gave me his phone number.”
“Brazen little shit,” Owen muttered lowly. Before I could reply to that, he asked, “Are you going to call him?”
“I threw it away.”
He hummed in approval and I felt his head turn before a light kiss was pressed to my temple.
“Good girl.”
I sucked in a breath just as he was pulling away and my body immediately ached from the loss. He turned his back to me and darted into the kitchen, turning off the stove so the food wouldn’t burn.
I’d been so lost in the moment that I completely forgot about lunch. I’d gladly go the rest of the day without eating if it meant I could spend more time standing in Owen’s arms.
“The dining room’s through there,” Owen said as he jerked his head toward the doorway. “Have a seat. I’ll just be a few minutes.”
I opened my mouth to offer to stay, but he sternly shook his head and pointed to the door. One eyebrow raised in a silent dare for me to argue and I felt my cheeks warm as I followed his order.
Owen was a kind man, but he had a kind of quiet dominant presence that was impossible to argue with. Or at least it was impossible for me. Whenever he used that tone, I only wanted to obey his every command.
As I sat at the table to wait, I thought about the way he called me a good girl as well as the way he had reacted when I called him sir. I may not have had any experience with guys myself, but I did know how to listen.
And for God’s sake—I was friends with Layla. Who needed firsthand experience when I had her to bluntly describe things I never even considered?
My consideration of what Owen might prefer in a more intimate setting based on what I had heard over the years was cut short when the man himself entered the room. He sat the skillet that contained the chicken and rice on the table and silently dished us both servings before popping out of the room again.
“Wine?” I asked with raised eyebrows when he returned with an unopened bottle and two glasses. “Aren’t you worried about what Dad would say?”
“You’re twenty-one now. It’s legal.” He froze with his hand on the cork and raised an eyebrow. “And I wasn’t planning to tell Landon. Were you?”
“Well, no… but I—”
“Wait. Let me clarify one thing before you say anything else.” He sat the bottle on the table and leaned over, staring me down as he slowly said, “Your father is my best friend, I know this. But when it’s just you and me—you can tell me anything and you don’t have to worry about me repeating it.” Owen paused, considering something before he dryly added, “Unless you tell me you’re dating some punk ass kid or dealing drugs or something. But I don’t think I’ll have to worry about you getting into that kind of trouble, will I?”
His fingers dipped below my chin and turned my head up to face him while I slowly shook my head. A smile stretched across his lips and he nodded.
“Of course I won’t,” he said quietly, his eyes darting down as he flicked his tongue over his lips. “Because you’re a good girl, aren’t you?”
“Y-Yes.”
Was it suddenly ten degrees hotter or was I just blushing that hard? It was hard to tell anymore.
The trance was broken when he broke the contact between us and turned his eyes back to the bottle. I waited until he poured us both a glass and sat down before I started eating, thankful for the lull in conversation that gave me a chance to process the turn of events.
Honestly, I had never thought much about whether or not Owen repeated what I said to my father. I supposed it was because I had never said anything to Owen that I wouldn’t have said in front of Dad—but it was nice to know that I could say those things if I wanted to.
If I had the guts to.
Which—like Layla had readily pointed out—I did not.
If my intuition was at all correct and there really was something lingering between us—Owen would have to be the one to instigate it. I couldn’t bear it if I was rejected after finally working up the nerve.
“Do you like the wine, princess?”
I took a small sip, grimacing a little at the bitter taste. Owen chuckled fondly and shook his head.
“Guess not.”
“I’m sorry. I’m not—It’s not the wine. I’m just not a big drinker.” A moment after the words left my lips, I froze and slowly said, “Not that I would know.”
“Your secret’s safe with me, princess. It’s nice to hear that you’ve had at least a little fun as a teenager.”
“Only what Layla forced me into,” I mumbled, though the fondness was evident in my voice. I really did appreciate having her as my friend. Otherwise I’d be completely sheltered.
I tried another sip of the wine before Owen silently took it away from me and ducked into the kitchen to get me a Sprite. After giving him a smile, we slipped into a comfortable silence as we ate lunch together.
It was easily my best birthday ever.
4
As the two of us finished the meal and went back into the kitchen to drop off the empty plates, I was considering how to broach the topic of the birthday present he had gotten me when his serious tone interrupted my train of thought.
“I need to ask you something important, Charlie,” Owen said, turning his back toward me as he put the plates in the sink. “I know it isn’t my place, but I need to be sure. So I won’t worry about you.”
“You can ask me anything,” I said, though I could feel myself frowning. He still hadn’t looked at me and paired with his solemn tone, I was getting worried myself.
“I know your parents pretty well and you yourself said you’ve never been on a date,” he started, pausing as he looked up at the wall and considered his next words. “Have either of them had… the talk with you?”
Of course that was when he chose to turn around and face me—right as my cheeks flamed. God, I wished I wasn’t so pale. There was no way to hide my body’s reactions.
“I… I know about it,” I whispered.
“About it?”
“About… sex. I know about sex.”
Just saying the word in front of him was enough to make my stomach knot up with a strange combination of nerves and desire.
“So they have given you the talk.”
“Not really. But I mean… I have friends. I don’t have many friends, but—”
“No, no, no,” Owen interrupted, holding up his hand. “That isn’t acceptable. Teenagers teaching teenagers about sex is a surefire way for things to go wrong. What about school? Did you have sex ed in school?”
Saying the word ‘sex’ in front of Owen made me fill with desire, but hearing him say it made it so much worse. I clenched my legs together and swallowed hard as I nodded.
“Health class covered the basic stuff. Like… Like protection and risks and… stuff.”
“And stuff,” he whispered with a short laugh of disbelief. “Charlie… have you ever…” He trailed off, his eyebrows furrowing together as he looked at me lik
e he was in pain. A moment later, he let out a long sigh and simply said, “If you have any questions, just know that you can come to me.”
That was quite an offer. I furrowed my brow and thought about all the random sex-related questions I had asked Layla or Ava over the years. They didn’t always have the answer—Ava especially since she was barely more experienced than I was—but I felt like I had gotten a satisfactory education between the two of them and health class.
I guess my biggest question at the moment was—
“What were you going to ask?”
“Pardon?”
“You started to ask me if I ever… something. Then you stopped.”
For the first time I could ever recall, Owen was at a loss for words. His mouth opened, but no sound came out before it snapped back shut. I watched with fascination as his jaw clenched, the flex of the muscle making his cheekbones look even more prominent than usual.
“It wasn’t important,” he finally replied with a shrug. “I forgot.”
I blinked a number of times, staring at his back as he turned back to the sink again.
“You’re lying.”
Oh shit. Why had I said that aloud? Owen bristled, his shoulders straightening as his head turned just enough to look at me over his shoulder.
“Just let it go, Charlie.”
“But—”
Owen groaned low in his throat before whipping around, his eyes wild as they scanned my face.
“It was an inappropriate question to ask. I don’t know why I even thought of it. Like I said—it isn’t important.”
“Are you sure?” I asked, watching his eyes narrow into slits and elaborating before he could chide me again. “I just—I meant it when I said you could ask me anything. I don’t mind.”
The air was thick as Owen studied me. His eyes scanned my face numerous times and I struggled to hold his eyes, but I felt my heart thud wildly when they dipped down to the top of my sundress.
“I was going to ask if you’ve ever...” he trailed off for a moment, his eyes snapping back to my face. “If you’ve ever kissed someone.”