Except they were looking at him now with a whole lot of negativity, anger, and disappointment.
Next time he’d order the BLT in his room and be done with it.
“Hi, Brooke,” he murmured and looked over his shoulder to see if the hostess was back so he’d have an excuse to get his thoughts together. But no such luck. Turning back around, he faced Brooke. “What brings you here tonight?”
“Dinner.”
She even sounded negative, angry, and disappointed.
And a little hostile.
Apparently, Howard had told her about not going to Red Rock.
“Me too,” he said quietly. “I didn’t think it would be this crowded.”
“It’s a diner on a Friday night—of course it’s crowded. Every restaurant is crowded on a Friday night in the city. It’s when most people go out.”
He wouldn’t know. He was usually working, which is what he said just to prevent an awkward silence.
Brooke seemed to relax a little. “So why aren’t you working tonight?”
“Um…I was caught up on everything. I don’t have another class until Tuesday—and it’s my last one for this semester.”
Her eyes went a little wide. “And…and then what will you be doing?”
Nervously he looked over his shoulder again. Where the hell was the hostess?
“Owen?” Brooke prompted.
Looking back at her, he quickly stammered, “I’m supposed to leave to tour Red Rock.” And he instantly regretted his words. To her credit, Brooke continued to look at him—not showing any reaction to his words.
“Brooke? Party of one! Brooke, party of one!” the hostess called out.
Brooke looked beyond him to the hostess, waved her hand, and then looked at Owen. “Well, it was…nice to see you. Enjoy your night.”
“Thank you,” he murmured but didn’t look at her.
She hadn’t gone two steps when she stopped beside him. “Would you like to join me? I asked for a small booth, so there’s room for a second person.”
Owen’s head snapped up as he looked at her—completely surprised by her invitation. “Really?”
At first she didn’t answer, but then she nodded.
“I… I’d like that very much. Thank you.” Clearly, the new Owen was a glutton for punishment. Now that he had been the first to mention the trip to Red Rock, it was certain to come up, and he’d have to explain to her—face-to-face—why he didn’t want to hire her. Well, he thought, not the real reason. There was no way he was going to admit how he was attracted to her. That would just be…well, it might be some sort of discrimination issue, and he wasn’t ready to deal with that either.
Brooke stepped past him, walked over to the hostess, and explained that Owen would be joining her, and then the two of them followed the hostess to a small booth in the far corner of the diner. They sat, and Owen thanked Brooke one more time for asking him to join her. She smiled at him, picked up her menu, and began to read it. He did the same.
The menu was like a large book, Owen thought. It was tall and thin, but it had about ten pages worth of options. Did he want breakfast for dinner? A sandwich? A burger? Pasta? Fish? Maybe there was such a thing as too many options because even with everything seemingly under the sun to choose from, he still couldn’t decide.
“What are you thinking of having?” Brooke asked from behind her menu.
“I’m not sure. There’s quite a lot to choose from.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
For another five minutes, Owen looked at his options. The waitress brought them glasses of water and took their drink orders, and Owen knew she’d be back any minute to get their food orders. He was just about to go with the BLT because he was a little overwhelmed and was feeling the pressure to make a decision when one of the specials caught his eye—the brisket. His mother used to make one of the best briskets he had ever eaten, but maybe he’d give this one a try.
Satisfied, he closed the menu and put it down. A minute later, Brooke did the same. He was just about to ask what she was going to have when the waitress reappeared and put down their drinks. “You ready to order?” she asked.
Brooke and Owen looked at each other and nodded. He motioned for Brooke to order first.
“I am going to have…” She paused, picked up the menu again, and glanced at one of the pages. “The brisket.”
“You got it,” the waitress said with a smile. “Would you like a salad with that?”
“Um…yes, please. With ranch dressing.”
“Okay.” Writing down Brooke’s order, she paused and then looked to Owen, still smiling. “And what can I get for you?”
He was a little dumbfounded for a moment. What were the odds of two people ordering the same thing out of a ten-page menu?
“Sir?”
Oh, right. His order. “I believe I’ll have the same.”
“And would you like the salad too?”
He nodded.
“Okay, great. Thanks!” Taking their menus, the waitress turned and walked away.
Owen gave Brooke a weak smile and immediately picked up his glass and took a long drink. It took all of five seconds before they were back to staring at one another. “So…”
“So…” she mimicked, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
Which were pink. And glossy. Owen almost groaned after noticing that.
Brooke was dressed similarly to the way she was the first time he’d met her—long, flowing skirt and lots of bracelets, but tonight, instead of a tank top, she had on a fitted white T-shirt and her hair was loose. And, as usual, she was carrying her sweater rather than wearing it.
And she smelled amazing.
Yeah, definitely had to stifle a groan.
“Where is Howard tonight?” he asked, searching for a somewhat safe topic.
“He’s home. I’m going to a gallery tonight to look at a new artist’s work. I would have taken him along, but he had a faculty meeting, and I know he tends to turn in early. I wanted to have some time to sort of walk around and experience a little of the night life in the city.”
“By yourself?” Owen asked incredulously. “That’s not particularly safe.”
She chuckled. “Have you been speaking to my parents?”
He looked at her curiously. “I… I’ve never met your parents. How could I have talked to them?”
She shook her head, still laughing. “It was a joke, Owen. I was implying you sounded a lot like them. They’re always very vocal about how I need to go out in groups rather than by myself. I get it. They’re concerned. But I’m twenty-eight years old. Sometimes I enjoy going out and doing things on my own.”
He nodded, looking down. “I can understand that.” He paused and then looked back at her. “Doesn’t it intimidate you at all?”
“What?” she asked curiously.
“The crowds? The city? I just wanted to grab something to eat and go back to the hotel, but I feel like I got picked up by the crowd, and the next thing I knew, I was here. It was a little bit unnerving. I only intended to go a block or two and ended up a mile away.”
She smiled sympathetically at him. “To be fair, a city block is very long. I don’t think it’s very hard to walk a mile here.”
“Maybe.”
Sitting there, Owen kept waiting for the other shoe to drop—for Brooke to call him out on not hiring her and using her uncle to tell her.
But she didn’t.
Instead, she started talking about some of the shops she’d seen while walking around and how she ended up here at the diner—she was craving something that reminded her of her home on Long Island, and that meant going to a diner. By that time their food had arrived, and they ate in companionable silence.
Owen couldn’t help the pleasurable sound he made at the first taste of his dinner. It may
had been more than twenty years since he’d tasted his mother’s cooking, but the brisket he was having felt as if Lillian Shaughnessy had made it herself.
“It’s quite good, isn’t it?” Brooke commented.
He nodded. “My mother used to make the best brisket, and this reminded me of hers.”
“You better not tell her that,” Brooke teased and then looked crestfallen at the look on his face. “What? What did I say?”
Slowly Owen put his fork down and used his napkin to carefully wipe around his mouth. “My mother passed away when I was ten,” he said quietly. “I ordered this for dinner tonight because when I saw it on the menu, it reminded me of her.”
Brooke reached across the table and placed her hand on top of his. “Owen, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I never would have—”
“I know,” he quickly interrupted. “Sometimes something or someplace will just remind me of her. I try not to let it make me sad, but sometimes…like now…I can’t help it.”
“I know what you mean,” she replied softly. Squeezing his hand one more time, she pulled away and went back to eating. They ate the remainder of their meal in silence.
After the waitress cleared away their plates and left the check, Brooke tilted her head and looked at him. “So what are you plans for the rest of the evening?”
“I had planned on just doing some reading. I downloaded a mystery I’ve been wanting to read. Nothing exciting.”
She nodded and reached for her purse.
“Dinner’s on me,” he said and stopped her before she could say anything. “You were very gracious to invite me to join you. From the looks of that line, I would have been waiting for a while, so…thank you.”
“I didn’t ask you to join me so you would pay for my dinner, Owen.”
“I know. I just…please let me do this.” Please let me clear my conscience a little.
A slow smile crossed her face. “Okay. Thank you.”
Together they stood, and Brooke led the way across the restaurant and out the door. Out on the sidewalk, they faced one another. “So this book you downloaded,” she began, “have you started it yet?”
He shook his head.
“No. How come?”
“Well, I know once I start a book, I tend to want to get back to it quickly. Especially if it’s a good one.”
“I’m the same way.” But he still wasn’t quite sure why she had asked.
Brooke was studying her feet—or the ground, he couldn’t be sure—and he could tell she had something else to say. Maybe she was trying to get the courage up to finally confront him. It was agony waiting for her to do it, and as much as he was dreading the confrontation, he was also hopeful she’d just yell at him and put him out of his misery.
But she was quiet.
Still.
Maybe he was going to have to be the one to just own up to what he had done and apologize. He tucked his hands in his pocket, and just as he was about to say her name, she looked up at him.
“Would you like to go to the gallery with me?”
Chapter 5
There were a lot of things Brooke wanted to say to Owen.
Inviting him to join her on her night out wasn’t one of them.
And yet it had been the first thing to fly out of her mouth.
“I’d like that,” he said, smiling. “A lot. Thank you.”
She couldn’t help but smile at the look of relief on his face. Together they turned and began walking away from the diner, and Owen asked her about the artist they were going to see.
“I have to admit, I didn’t do a lot of research on him. He’s new to me, and really, I just wanted to go because I always enjoy going to galleries and experiencing new artists. It’s kind of fun to see what other people are creating and then meet them and find out what inspires them.”
“I can understand that. I would imagine you have a lot more opportunities to do that then someone in my field does. Most of the people I interact with have studied the same things I have and believe the same things I do, but it’s always refreshing when I meet someone who has an opposing view or some new insight into what is going on in space and why.”
They walked several blocks while making observations about the things they were seeing—like a running commentary on people-watching—and Brooke was enjoying it. She liked this side of Owen—when he was relaxed and out of his work environment. She had to wonder if he was even aware of how differently he behaved when no one was directly watching him.
“I don’t understand the whole sandals-and-black-socks look,” he was saying. Brooke followed the direction of his gaze and saw an older gentleman dressed in tan shorts, a red T-shirt, black socks, and sandals. “We broke my dad of that habit. I wonder if that guy has anyone willing to do the same for him.”
And then she laughed. Out loud. To the point that Owen stopped and looked at her. “Are you all right?” he asked.
Brooke stopped walking and tried to contain her laughter. “I’m sorry, but…that was just funny!”
He looked confused. “What was?”
Shaking her head, she laughed a bit more. “Just the way you commented on that. For a second, all I could picture was you walking up to that man and explaining why his outfit didn’t work!”
Owen started to chuckle. “I suppose that would be funny—and probably a little embarrassing for him to have a complete stranger walk up to him and critique his clothing choices.”
“Definitely.” Brooke was about to start walking again when she looked around and frowned.
“What’s the matter?”
“When I left the house earlier, I parked by Navy Pier and just started walking from there. I ended up south of there, and the gallery is north of there. I suspect we’re in for a long walk.” She paused and looked around again. “Should we stop and get my car?”
Owen seemed to consider their options and then shrugged. “The weather tonight is pleasant, and I don’t mind the walk if you don’t.”
She couldn’t help the smile that crossed her face. Secretly, she had been hoping he’d want to walk. There was something to be said for exploring the city on foot, and the thought of doing it with Owen—even though she was still pissed at him—just felt right.
“I don’t mind the walk either,” she said and felt herself blush. “I have a sweater for later when it’s cooler out.”
“Well, then…shall we?” he asked, smiling at her.
And off they went through the crowds of people.
* * *
“That was…interesting.”
“I never thought I’d see those two mediums used together.”
“I may have to stab my own eyes out to make sure I never see it again,” Brooke said and then shuddered. They had just left the art gallery, and she waited until they were at the corner before looking at Owen. “I am so sorry.”
He looked taken aback by her apology. “Why?”
“That was horrible! Everything in there was offensive and tasteless and just…wrong! I can’t believe an art professor would recommend that to anyone!”
“Maybe he didn’t know exactly what kind of art was being displayed.”
Brooke shook her head. “He had to know. He raved about the whole thing—like he was familiar with the kind of work this guy did!”
“Maybe he’s into that kind of thing. There were a lot of people there who were praising pretty much everything they saw.”
Even though she knew Owen was right, she was still horrified. All of the pictures featured nudes in cages—and then there was wire caging coming out of the picture to give it a 3-D effect. Splashes of color looked as if they were just thrown onto the canvas, and all in all the exhibit had been fairly horrific to her. Brooke didn’t consider herself a prude, but these images were definitely not something she would have chosen to see.
Ever.
And now she was mortified because she had invited Owen along. To his credit, he didn’t seem the least bit fazed by the whole thing. It was possible he was trying to be polite and didn’t want to offend her in case she found the work interesting. But after the first five minutes of being there, Brooke had wanted to escape. Somehow, however, Owen had drawn her into conversation as they walked around the gallery and made several observations that had her wondering if he really didn’t see what was so…bizarre about the entire thing.
And that had been eye-opening for her. They stayed much longer than she’d imagined they would—especially after seeing the art—but they had talked the entire time, and after a while, she didn’t even notice their surroundings. She simply enjoyed the conversation, which turned to the architecture of the building rather than the show.
“So that was an art showing,” Owen said conversationally.
She nodded. “I really wish it had been a better experience.”
“Is this the sort of thing you want to do? Have your paintings displayed in one particular gallery?”
“I think so. That was one of the reasons I went to talk to Dr. Kennedy. I really wanted his input on ways to get my name out there to some of the local galleries. I was hoping he’d give me some insight into how to get started.”
Without commenting, Owen simply nodded.
“I don’t know about you,” she began, “but the thought of walking back to the pier is just a little exhausting. Would you mind if we grabbed a cab?”
“Not at all.” Walking to the curb, he quickly hailed one, and once they were inside, he instructed the driver where to take them.
“Thank you,” Brooke said, resting her head back on the seat. “I know I could have made the walk, but I’m just worn out.”
“It was a lot of walking,” he agreed. “I’ll have the driver drop you at your car and take me back to my hotel.”
“Oh.”
Turning his head toward her, he looked at her until she met his gaze. “What’s wrong?”
She shrugged. It was silly to be disappointed. Looking at the clock on the dashboard, she knew it was late—almost midnight—but she wasn’t ready for the night to end.
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