“Or I can do that now.”
“That’s nice, thanks, but actually, I would like to see your place.”
My hands began to shake as I said it. Me. Owen. Alone at his place.
Why did that scare me so much?
Because I didn’t trust myself.
It’s fine. Nothing is going to happen. I’m not even really falling for him. Not hardcore.
It was true. Owen was cute and sweet. He was one of the easiest people I knew to be around. But none of those circumstances hit the fast forward button on my “healing” as my therapist, Tracey, referred to it.
Although I was probably jumping ahead a bit… and making assumptions. Maybe there was nothing to be worried about. Owen had, after all, been at the bar with a girl. A pretty girl at that.
Owen stood up. “I walked down here. Is that all right? After we walk back to my place, I’ll give you a ride home.”
“Okay.” I stood as well and followed him as he headed across the courtyard.
The way he took was familiar, thanks to my having spent the majority of my childhood running up and down the neighborhood streets. Glendale was well known for boasting historical houses mostly built in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. The tally of historical houses was arguably Crystal Brook’s claim to, mild, fame.
The streets grew quieter as we got closer to Glendale and soon the only other souls on the sidewalks were dogs and the humans walking them.
The girl in the red dress was still on my mind. I’d managed to go quite a while after leaving the bar without thinking about her, but now that she’d popped into my mind, I couldn’t get her out. I counted my steps to try to stop from asking or bringing the topic up.
By the time we’d hit Glendale, though, I could no longer resist.
“So what were you doing at the cocktail bar?” I asked as casually as I could. “Were you meeting a friend?”
“No. I was just taking a break and getting a drink. I spent the whole afternoon putting up drywall.”
“Oh.”
So he was lying. He didn’t want me to know he’d been with a girl because that would hurt his chances of getting with me. Right?
But then where was the girl? Why had she left after such a short amount of time? Maybe Owen had seen me and Gwen sitting by the window and had told the girl to beat it.
The theory was starting to get long and twisted… and quite possibly slightly insane.
“Hm.” I gazed in front of me while we walked, way too awkward to look directly at Owen. “Gwen said she thought she saw you sitting with someone.”
There. Put all responsibility on my sister, make it seem like she was the one who cared about what Owen did and who he did it with.
I could feel his eyes on me. “When did Gwen say that?”
“Um… before you said hi to her. I mean, she didn’t think it was you at first.”
“What do you mean?”
I put my mind’s gears into warp speed. “We were sitting there, and she said she thought she saw someone who looked like you sitting with a girl in a red dress.” I took a deep breath. “Then she thought she’d made a mistake, and it wasn’t you. Your back was turned to us,” I quickly added. “So that’s what made her question herself.”
“Ah… that’s funny that she thought it wasn’t me.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, still partially holding my breath. Had he bought the story?
“I don’t know who that girl was.”
I looked at him for the first time in two blocks. “What?”
Owen shrugged. “Yeah, she came in and sat down next to me. We chatted a bit.”
“So she was just some girl.” I realized how cold that sounded and bit my tongue. “I mean, you’d never met her before?”
“No.”
I couldn’t resist asking the only thing on my mind — I no longer cared how much the question exposed me.
“Was she hitting on you?”
Owen chuckled. “Uh, I don’t know…”
“So that means yes.”
Even in the dark, I could see Owen trying not to smile but failing. “Sure… I guess so.”
The amount of relief that washed over me probably should have made me feel bad. It wasn’t as if I had plans to seduce and keep Owen all to myself, so there was no reason to be jealous of other women. I couldn’t help it though. I hated the mere thought of a girl on a bar stool cozying up to him. To even think of some random person putting her hands on him…
Stop it, I commanded myself. No more of this nonsense.
I cleared my throat. “I’m sure you get that a lot.”
I wanted to slap myself. Since when had I grown a second brain — one that was in direct conflict with the first one?
Owen laughed. “No, I don’t think so. There aren’t a lot of young people in Crystal Brook.”
“So it’s mostly the old ones that hit on you?”
He laughed again. “My house is right up here.”
“I’m going to take that as a yes.”
“I’m not answering that.”
The first noticeable thing about Owen’s property was its front yard. It was massive, with two old oak trees near the road, but behind them enough space to host the entire Lawrence family reunion. A light had been left on in the front of the house, but the upstairs was completely dark. Now that I stood in front of the property, I recognized it. The main exterior part of the house was covered in boards with peeling yellow paint, but the west wing was made from wooden logs. We ambled up the gravel driveway and to the front of the wraparound porch. The boards creaked underneath my feet, and I nervously looked down.
“This won’t give out, will it?”
Keys jingled in Owen’s pocket. “Who knows?”
“Hey,” I said, trying to sound serious despite the real nerves I felt. “Don’t joke about that.”
Owen unlocked the door then held it open for me. I slowly walked into the living room, which probably felt more massive than it actually was on account of the only furniture being a couple of folding chairs. The light that had been left on was the overhead one, and it was turned to dim, but illuminated enough of the room that I could quickly take everything in. A massive white brick fireplace sat on the far wall, and to the right was a row of windows looking out onto the porch. Three more doorways opened in various directions, and a staircase sat to my left.
“Wow,” I breathed. “This room is huge.”
“Yeah.” His voice came from only inches behind me, and I jumped. “Sorry,” he murmured, closing the door and walking around me and into the room. “This is the biggest part. All of the other rooms are pretty small.”
“Are you living here?”
“Some nights.” He grabbed the staircase’s banister and swung around to look at me. “I have a bed set up, but other than a coffee pot and some towels, that’s about it. I stay at my parents’ most nights, but if I end up working late, then I just crash here.”
“Cool,” I said for lack of anything else to say. “It’s like camping out.”
Dumb, Claire. Real dumb.
“Yeah,” he agreed. “Want to see the place?”
“Sure.”
“You can set your bag down anywhere if you like.”
Tentatively, I slid my purse off my shoulder and set it on one of the folding chairs. Doing so meant I was committing to staying for a while, and I still wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
Owen led me down a hallway, flipping on switches as he showed off the different rooms. He hadn’t been lying about their sizes. They were all considerably small compared to the living room, but the quantity of them more than made up for their sizes. Downstairs alone there were two bathrooms, a second living room, a dining room, a kitchen, and two bedrooms. They were all in various states of distress, most with tape along the bottom of the walls and cans of paint waiting to be used.
Owen took me across the living room and into another room, which he’d set up as his temporary bedroom. The iron-wrought b
ed held a thick quilt with several plush pillows. There was a floor lamp in the corner and underneath that a few books in a stack. Other than that, the room was empty. A second door opened outside into the backyard.
“That’s it for downstairs,” Owen said. “Other than the kitchen, which is next to the living room.”
“What’s out back?”
“Let’s go see,” he grinned, as if he didn’t know.
He walked across the room, and I followed, trying not to look at the bed again.
The door opened onto a little patio with a couple of chairs and some solar lights on it. Beyond that sat a backyard ringed with trees. A bit of light was visible from a house on the next street, but for the most part, the yard had been sequestered by greenery. The most noticeable thing, though, was the pool. Lights on its walls lit up its sparkling depths.
Slowly I walked forward to take a peek. “I see this is all set up,” I commented.
“Yeah,” Owen replied from somewhere behind me. He sounded a little bashful. “It was the first thing I got going.”
I laughed. “I don’t blame you. Trust me. August in North Carolina is no joke.”
I turned around and looked up at the second roof of the house. Even in the dark, the big patch missing tiles was noticeable. Outside the kitchen windows, the gutter hung down, scraping the ground. And those were just cosmetic details. I didn’t know shit about houses, but I knew that if it looked bad on the outside, there were probably more problems inside.
“What’s upstairs?”
“More bedrooms. There are some window panes up there from when the house was first built. You can tell how old they are because the glass is wavy.”
“Hm. Cool.”
I looked down from the house and over at him standing on the patio between the solar lights. “Can you tell me again… why did you buy this house? I mean, it’s great, but it seems like it needs so much work. And it’s so big.”
Owen turned and looked up at the building himself. “I think it’s just because it needs so much work. It’s something to be done. It makes me feel good just to see progress being made. At the end of the day, I can look at the place and see what my hands did. It’s good, you know?”
“Yeah. I do.”
“I’ve always felt that way about working on houses.”
I studied what bit of him I could see. Combined with the poor lighting and the lengthy conversation we’d already had, my nerves were starting to die. Looking straight at him actually felt doable.
“You’re happier,” I said. “Happier than you were two months ago.”
Owen looked down. “I guess.”
The way he said those two words, he didn’t sound very happy. Afraid I’d just put my foot in my mouth big time, I turned and started walking around the edge of the pool.
“It’s so flat out here,” I commented, studying the lawn. “You could play croquette.”
My back turned to him, I made a face. Croquette? Had I honestly just casually mentioned croquette?
Owen laughed. “I guess so. I’d need someone to teach me. Have you ever played?”
“No, sorry, but I can hold a parasol like it’s my job, and I’m pretty sure it’s a requirement to get that down before you even pick up a mallet.”
“Is that what they’re called?”
I shrugged. “Damn, I don’t know.”
I got to the far edge of the pool, where there was less lighting. A breeze picked up, ruffling the trees. I gazed up and over at them as I walked.
One of my feet hit something in the dark, and I looked down while trying to step out of the way. For half a second, I thought it was a snake, but then I realized it was a coiled up garden hose. I stepped back, my other foot getting tangled in another part of it. Next thing I knew and I was falling over sideways.
My hip and right shoulder hit the water at the same time, and I went crashing into the pool’s depths. Instinctively, I kicked my legs. One of my shoes made impact with the side of the pool, and I shot up to the surface. I gasped and shook my face to get the water out of it. At the same time, a splash sounded somewhere nearby. I looked but couldn’t see Owen anywhere.
Something bobbed in the water next to me, and Owen popped up.
“Are you all right?” he gasped.
I laughed. “Yeah.”
“The hose…”
“I tripped.”
He laughed as well. “I thought it was wrapped around your leg.”
“I’m fine.”
I kicked harder. It was hard to stay buoyant in jeans. “I need to get out before I sink.”
“Right,” he agreed.
Kicking for the side of the pool, I hauled myself out. Owen did the same next to me. Water cascaded from our clothes in heavy drops, crashing onto the pavement and the offending garden hose, still coiled up and waiting for its next victim.
“I thought it was a snake.”
Owen laughed again. “A water snake?”
“No.” I grinned at him. “Thanks for jumping in after me… even though you didn’t have to.”
“Let me get you a towel.”
Hesitantly, I followed him to the back door we’d come out of. He went inside, dripping water the whole way, but I stayed at the threshold.
A minute later and he was back, two large towels in his hands. He handed me one and kept one for himself.
“I’m sorry,” I said, rubbing the towel up and down my legs first.
“It’s all right. No harm done.”
“There’s water all in your house now,” I pointed out.
“That’s the least of this house’s problems.” He wrapped the towel around his torso and rubbed it up and down. I tried not to stare.
“Still… sorry. And thank you.”
“If you wanted to change your clothes, I can loan you some. I’m sure I have something here that will fit you.”
I literally gulped… and then prayed he hadn’t heard it. “Okay.”
He dried himself off some more and kicked off his shoes before going to the doorway again. After a little bit, he returned with a shirt and some gym shorts.
“You can use the bathroom,” he said, handing the clothes to me. “Don’t worry about the water. I’ll get it later.”
“Okay,” I mumbled. “Thanks.”
I pulled my shoes off to lessen the amount of water I’d be taking inside and hurried past him. He’d turned more lights on inside, and I found my way easily to the closest bathroom. It was barren, with a tool case sitting in the bathtub. The door creaked as I shut it.
After changing, I hung my dripping clothes up on the shower curtain, then dried myself off again with the towel. To finish off the job, I mopped up the water on the floor with the towel then hung that over the rack as well. The clothes Owen had given me were big, and I had to roll the waistband of the shorts twice to get them to stay on. As I pulled the shirt over my head, I caught a whiff of laundry detergent. My heart swelled, and my stomach flipped.
No, I reminded myself. You can’t do this.
I couldn’t have a crush. I wasn’t ready to have a crush. Even if things went well, even if having feelings for a man didn’t lead to heartbreak. No. I still couldn’t handle it.
Because things going well would end up hurting just as much as things going poorly.
Finally dry, I stood there in the middle of the bathroom, way too aware of the fact that I wore no underwear.
Home. I needed him to take me home. Like, right away. That’s what I would do.
I went to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge. I tried again, and it still wouldn’t move. Panic fluttered in my chest. I hated being in small spaces and the bathroom had no window.
Taking a deep breath, I tried turning the doorknob in the other direction. Still, it didn’t move. I inspected all around it. Had I accidentally locked it?
The knob was pretty old, but there didn’t even appear to be a lock. Maybe some of the wood had swelled, and it was just jammed. I pulled on it, then remembered i
t was an old house, and the door went out into the hall.
I leaned against the door. “Owen!”
A second later and his footsteps came down the hall.
“I’m locked in,” I told him through the door.
The floorboards outside the door creaked. “Shit. I’m sorry. I forgot that happens with this one. Here, let me try.”
The knob jiggled slightly, but the door didn’t open.
“I don’t want to live in here,” I joked, mostly to calm myself down.
“Don’t worry. I’ll save you.”
The knob jiggled some more.
“Here,” he said. “I’m going to turn and pull and you turn and push. All right? Turn the knob to your right.”
“Okay.”
I did as instructed. At first, nothing happened, but then the wood started to groan. I felt the force through the knob as Owen pulled harder. Suddenly, something popped, and the latch slid open.
And the door fell right off its hinges, clattering into the hallway.
I screamed and covered my mouth with my hands. Owen jumped out of the way, the door falling down where he’d been standing half a second ago. Dust rose into the air, swirling around us.
“Oh my God,” I whispered through my fingers.
“Yeah,” Owen agreed.
We stared at the door lying flat on the floor.
And then Owen laughed.
I stared at him. He’d changed into a pair of cargo shorts, but he’d failed to put a shirt on. Or maybe he’d been about to do that when I’d called for help. Either way, there he stood, one fine package of rippling muscles.
Realizing I was staring, I looked away and back at the fallen door.
Owen kept chuckling. “I had a feeling that would happen sooner or later. I’m sorry. I’ve been meaning to replace that. I just haven’t gotten around to it.”
“I’m sorry,” I gasped.
“Here.” He extended his hands to help me over the door. I took a wide step so I could clear it and ended up pressed right against his bare chest.
We both froze. My hands remained in his, held up at our sides. My face swayed only inches away from his throat. If only I tilted my face up… and he tilted his face down…
Our lips would be aligned.
Crushed (Crystal Brook Billionaires) Page 14