Plus, they were supposed to run together the next morning.
Owen had never particularly enjoyed running, but when the gorgeous woman who’d been the first to make his heart pump faster than normal asked, he’d gone straight to the shoe store and bought a pair of sneakers that should get him through a couple of marathons.
They’d been running together for months now, and Owen still hadn’t found a way to ask Gina to dinner where work wasn’t involved.
“Kissing her probably told her a lot.” He cringed as he got off the elevator and hurried past the check-in counter, Jason who was on security today, and down the hall to his office.
Only then did he delete the never on his phone and type out a much more political and aloof whenever works for you. I’m in my office.
The day passed, like days do, and Gina didn’t show up to talk to him. Fisher did, several times, and Owen signed things, made phone calls, and filled out his calendar with Cooper’s basketball games. He hadn’t missed a single one since his son had made the team last year, and he didn’t plan to this season either. Besides his job, his sons were all he had, and he’d devoted everything he had to Sweet Breeze, Zach, and Cooper.
Sure, he worked more than he probably needed to. But he liked the way it filled the hours, liked that his sons came and hung out at the pools with their friends, liked that they could grab food from one of the restaurants and eat it in his office.
His radio beeped and someone said, “Owen, there’s a disturbance by the museum.”
He stood, knowing he couldn’t make it through one day without something happening. “On my way. Jason?”
“Meet you at the elevator.”
Jason held the door until Owen stepped on, and he nodded at the man. He and Lexie, a long-time Nine-0 Club member had just gotten married, and he’d proved to be an excellent employee.
“What does disturbance mean?” Jason asked as the elevator whisked them up a few floors.
“Probably someone who’s had too much to drink.” That was the cause of almost all the problems at Sweet Breeze. Owen had given up alcohol a couple of months after Linda had left. It had dulled his nerves and mind until the divorce was final, but then he realized his sons needed him. Only eight and five at the time, they deserved a father. So when he’d come out of his bedroom, drunk, to find Zach had made grilled cheese sandwiches for him and Cooper—and burnt them and filled the house with smoke—Owen had given up drinking completely. And without women, he lived a perfectly pure and chaste life—and was pretty happy doing so.
But it wasn’t someone who’d drunk too much causing a problem outside the museum. It was Gina Jackson.
“Gina?” He approached slowly, pausing altogether and holding up his hand for Jason to stop too when she spun toward them.
Her eyes were wild, and she held up a fistful of papers. “This says I can get in the museum for free.”
Owen remained passive, calm. This wasn’t the Gina he knew. She’d definitely hit her head harder than anyone had thought. When she saw him, she quieted, her hand lowering to her side. “Owen?”
“Those coupons expired six months ago, sir,” the museum attendant said. “I tried explaining it to her.” He looked at Gina with wariness. “She didn’t seem to believe me.”
“It’s okay, Santiago. I’ll take her to my office.” He extended his hand to her, almost like he would a child. “Come on, Gina.”
She came toward him, lacing her fingers through his while Jason watched. Owen wished every muscle in his body wouldn’t sigh, but they did. Then his nerves danced with joy that he was holding hands with Gina Jackson.
She’s not well, he thought, but the rest of his body—including his heart, which continued to beat out a rhythm that was entirely too excited—didn’t seem to care.
“Call Doctor Blithe,” he whispered to Jason once they’d returned to the first floor. “She hit her head earlier, and I’m afraid she might have a concussion.”
Jason nodded slightly, and Owen continued with Gina down the hall to his office. Once they were sealed inside, Owen busied himself with ordering her favorite fried cheese from the bistro on the third floor, sending a text to Zach that he had an issue to deal with and would be home later, and then asking Gina for the coupons.
“I didn’t think you liked the museum,” he said. He’d mentioned it to her once, and she’d shot him down pretty fast, citing museums as “boring.”
She watched him with those blue eyes, and Owen chose not to look away. Seconds passed, and he had to believe she felt something between them too. It was simply too strong not to feel it.
“I’m sorry I kissed you,” he said, thinking she probably needed an explanation. “I…something came over me in the moment, and it was wrong.”
Gina reached up and brushed her fingertips against her lips, almost like she could remember the barely-there touch of his mouth. “Like something came over me at the museum.” She blinked, confusion rushing through her eyes. “My head hurts.”
“I know.” He smiled at her, what he hoped was a genuine, caring, kind smile. “Doctor Blithe is on her way.” He opened the top drawer in his desk and took out a bottle of painkillers. “And you should take a few of these.” He slid the bottle toward her and reached under his desk to the mini fridge he kept filled with water bottles.
Tears filled Gina’s eyes as she took the ice cold bottle of water and tapped some pills into her palm. “Owen, you always know what to do and when to do it.”
“Oh, that’s not true.” Or he wouldn’t have kissed her like that earlier.
“I was going to tell you this morning,” she said, pausing with the ibuprofen still in her hand. “We need to redesign the closets. They’re simply too big.” Some of the papers in her hands got smoothed onto his desktop. “I’ve redrawn the blueprints for you.”
Owen loved Gina’s handwriting, the clever way she had with space and design, and how she could make something as simple as a closet come to life in black and white. He smiled fondly at the pages covered in black ink and pulled them toward him. “Let’s see what you’ve come up with this time.”
Chapter Three
Gina’s head pounded like someone was banging on it with a plastic mallet. The way she used to abuse the xylophones in her high school band. She closed her eyes, but that only made a terrible sense of vertigo overtake her.
Owen glanced at her and back at the blueprints. Gina couldn’t get a read on him, and she thought about that microsecond where he’d kissed her earlier that morning.
At least she didn’t have to wonder if he liked her. A tiny smile touched those same lips Owen’s had, and that caused her head to hurt too.
“I don’t think I can drive myself home,” she finally said. “How soon are you heading out? Could you give me a ride?”
“Doctor Blithe is coming,” he said, shifting one paper under the other. She’d drawn the closeting system for the single bedroom apartments a bit different than for the two bedroom units.
She didn’t dare tell him she’d gone into the construction zones on the seventh and eighth floor. He would not be happy about that, even if she was healthy. And they both knew she wasn’t.
“You’re not even arguing,” Owen said.
Gina shrugged, wondering if she could share some of her past with him. “I don’t like doctors,” she said. And she didn’t, but it probably wasn’t for the same reasons as other people.
Owen didn’t return his attention to the blueprints, but kept his eyes on her. “Oh? Why not?”
Gina swallowed, her mouth dry and chalky. She couldn’t remember the last thing she ate, or when she’d last had a drink. She lifted the water bottle to her lips and swallowed the pills. Still Owen hadn’t looked away.
“I had a bad experience as a teenager.” She gazed right back at him, wanting to open the door all the way, beckon him inside, share everything with him.
At the same time, she knew what would happen if she did. And she rather liked this island and was co
nsidering staying.
“I grew up in the foster system,” she blurted. She almost covered her mouth with her hand like she’d just said something awful and embarrassing.
Surprise mixed with compassion in Owen’s expression. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Where?”
“My home state, Texas.”
“You’re from Dallas, right?”
Her company was in Dallas, but it was easier to say, “Yes,” than try to tell him about the tiny town where she bounced from house to house in the middle of Texas Hill Country.
“No good experiences with any of your families?”
Gina didn’t want to talk about her time in the foster system. Thankfully, someone knocked on the door and Owen practically leapt across the desk to answer it.
“Thank you, Ben.” He took the tray, and Gina really hoped it was the fried cheese from that bistro she liked. She couldn’t even think of when he’d ordered that.
“I’ll put your tip on your paycheck.” Owen smiled at the waiter and closed the door. He presented her with the food, and drew off the top of the cloche to reveal the item she wanted most.
Gina smiled and shook her head. “You really are amazing.”
Owen didn’t respond as he moved behind her and retook his place at the desk. “I assume you haven’t eaten in a while.” He flicked a glance toward her and studied his phone. “Probably not since our bagels this morning.”
She liked his use of “our,” but she didn’t want to confirm that he’d spoken true. Then she’d have to say she’d been in the forbidden two-bedroom units, taking measurements and dodging two-by-fours while her head felt like it was cleaving in two.
Another knock and Owen let in the doctor while Gina finished off her first cheese stick.
“Hello, Joyce.” Owen kissed the doctor on the cheek. “Gina here hit her head this morning.”
Gina wanted to say she was fine, but deep down, she knew she wasn’t.
“Did you call someone?” Joyce Blithe had to be close to sixty-five-years-old, but she looked like a no-nonsense kind of woman. She set her medical bag on Owen’s desk next to the plate of fried cheese and pulled out a stethoscope.
Why doctors always started by listening to the heart, Gina didn’t know. She hadn’t hurt her heart. But she let Doctor Blithe listen, ask her questions, and look in her eyes, her ears, her throat, all of it.
“It’s a mild concussion,” she said. “You’ll be fine, as long as you stay down for….” She looked at Owen. “How busy is she?”
“Oh, she’s a ten.”
Gina could’ve sworn she caught a slyness to Owen’s smile, and her blood heated to an almost intolerable level.
“Ten?” Doctor Blithe considered her, those electric blue eyes not missing a single thing. “I can see that. So a week, Gina. You can’t do much more than get up and go to the bathroom for a week.”
“A week?” Gina looked back and forth between Owen and Doctor Blithe. They might as well as sentenced her to life in prison. “But we were going to go running in the morning.”
“No running,” Doctor Blithe said. “For at least a week. Slow walking if you have to do something.” She turned to Owen. “Slow walking. No stairs.”
“She lives here,” Owen said. “So no stairs is just fine.”
“She shouldn’t be alone tonight.” Doctor Blithe put her medical gear back in her bag. “Do you have family or someone you can stay with?”
Gina had no idea how to respond. Not only did she not have family here in Getaway Bay, she didn’t have family anywhere. At least not any family she cared to know about.
And friends?
“I can stay—”
“She can stay with me,” Owen said, the volume of his voice almost causing an echo off the ceiling.
Gina blinked at him. “You?” He’d told her all about his two boys, and she wondered how he’d explain her sudden presence at their house.
“I make killer pancakes.” He smiled and nodded at Doctor Blithe, who lifted her bag and turned toward the door. Owen stepped with her and they had a whispered exchange that Gina wanted to care about, but her head felt too poundy.
She picked up another cheese stick, wondering when she’d last eaten a pancake. It had been a while, probably four years since Ian had cut and run with half of her profits.
But she’d picked herself up then, just like she had before.
The door clicked closed, and Gina looked at Owen. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Oh, of course you don’t. But I don’t cross Joyce Blithe. She was my babysitter growing up, and trust me, it’s better to just do what she says.” He plucked his suit jacket from the peg by the door. “I can get someone to stay with you here, if you’d like. I’m sure Jason Burnes would stay if I asked him.”
The thought of having a near-stranger—even if Jason was one of her best friend’s husbands—stay in her room made Gina’s skin crawl.
“No, thank you.”
“You can’t stay alone tonight, Gina.” He sounded polished and poised, as always. But there was a tenderness to his voice that called to her soul. Or maybe she’d imagined it because she wanted to go home with him.
“Fine.” She picked up another piece of cheese.
He flashed a smile and stuck his hands in his pockets. “When you’re finished, we’ll go. Zach made pizza pockets for dinner.”
“Your sons cook?”
“Yes. Sometimes necessity is a great teacher.” He hadn’t told her a whole lot about his past, but she knew he was divorced, with full custody of his teenagers.
And Gina had never wanted children. She stood slowly, needing to tell him everything about herself right now.
Now.
She blinked, her vision blurring around the edges, and said nothing.
“You don’t look so great,” he said, tucking her hand in his elbow. “Let’s get you home and in bed.”
“Just what every woman wants to hear.” She smiled at him, the action almost making her pass out.
Owen chuckled, the sound rumbling all the way down inside Gina’s body. “Which part? That you don’t look great, or that I’m taking you home?”
Gina couldn’t keep up with the flirting, or the double-meanings, or the sarcasm. But she smiled at Owen and held on tighter so she wouldn’t fall down again.
Seven days in bed sounded heavenly about now, especially if she had the handsome Owen Church as her personal nurse.
The scent of Italian meats met Gina’s nose when Owen opened his front door, and a wave of nausea hit her hard.
“Guys,” Owen called. “We’re here.”
She didn’t dare let go of him, though she didn’t need his kids to see her hanging on him like she couldn’t hold herself up. But she honestly wasn’t sure she could.
A miniature and younger version of Owen stepped around the corner, a black apron tied around his waist. “Hey, Dad.” His eyes moved to Gina, and she lifted her hand in a wave.
“She fell and hit her head,” Owen said. “Joyce said she couldn’t be alone tonight, and she doesn’t have any family on the island.”
If his son thought that was true or not, Gina couldn’t tell.
“Gina, this is Cooper. He’s my fifteen-year-old, and apparently the one in charge of the salad tonight.”
It was at that moment that Gina noticed the tongs in Cooper’s hand. Another, older, boy peeked around the wall.
He had lighter hair and lighter eyes, though his skin had obviously seen a lot of sun. “Hey, Dad. Pockets will be out in four minutes.” He looked at Gina and went back into the kitchen.
“You don’t want to eat, right?” Owen leaned down, his mouth almost brushing her ear.
Gina just needed to lie down. “No, thank you.” Her voice sounded like half of who she was.
“Let me show you where you can stay.” Thankfully, Owen didn’t take her toward the kitchen, but through a doorway and into an obvious guest bedroom.
“Bathroom here, Gina. I’m going to eat
with the boys and come check on you.” He gazed down at her with so many emotions in his expression that Gina couldn’t separate them all.
He cradled her face, almost like he’d kiss her again, and then dropped his hand. “If you tell me what you need, I’ll go get it.”
Gina nodded, not quite sure what he meant. It wasn’t until he closed the door behind him and she collapsed on the comfortable queen bed that she realized she had nothing. No toothbrush. No pajamas. Nothing.
Chapter Four
Owen enjoyed his late dinner with his sons, as Zach had gotten quite good at making pizza pockets, steak and potatoes, and grilled shrimp.
“So,” he said. “Have you heard anything about the University of Hawaii?”
“The deadline was three weeks ago, Dad.” Zach could’ve added an eye roll and it would’ve fit the tone perfectly.
“I know,” Owen said, spearing another forkful of salad and trying not to think about Gina only a couple of walls away. “But they send scholarship letters pretty quickly.”
“If you get one.” Zach took an overly large bite of his pizza pocket, a clear indication that he wanted the conversation to move on to something else.
“You’ll get one,” Owen said, totally not moving on to something else. “Your GPA and test scores were great.”
“He wants to go to UCLA,” Cooper said nonchalantly, but the words caused Owen to choke.
He wiped his face with his napkin, sure some bits of pizza had gotten on his chin. “What? UCLA?”
“Cooper,” Zach growled.
“I didn’t even know you’d applied to UCLA,” Owen said, refusing to raise his voice, lower it, or otherwise act like he cared. But UCLA? That was across the ocean. And Owen couldn’t just jaunt over to see his son during his first year of college if he went to school in California.
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