A Sky Full of Stars

by Samantha Chase

  “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 nightlife 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 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’d 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 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 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 than 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. “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 one picture to give it a 3-D effect. Splashes of color looked as if they were 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.

  “I just thought I’d drive you back there, and maybe we could have a drink or something before we called it a night.”

  He studied her for a moment, and she was afraid she had been too forward and he was going to turn her down.

  “I’d like that,” he said, surprising her yet again.

  “Good,” she said, smiling.

  The ride to her car took only a few minutes, and Owen paid the driver and thanked him as they climbed out. Silently they walked to her car, and for the first time that night, she truly felt nervous. There wasn’t anything she could put her finger on, but for some reason Brooke knew it was a big deal that they were out together tonight and they were both unwilling to let the night come to an end.

  Or perhaps she was seeing only what she wanted to see.

  They stopped next to her car, and she turned to him. “I don’t think I know what hotel you’re staying at.”

  “It would probably be easier for me to drive. That is…if you don’t mind.”

  Brooke willingly handed him the keys, and they were on the move minutes later. Traffic was a bit lighter than it had been earlier in the evening but still heavier than she would have expected for this time of night. Everything was lit up, and the sidewalks were still crowded, and she loved the energy of it all. They turned off the main road, and Owen pulled into an underground garage and parked.

  “I was so busy people-watching I didn’t even notice where we are.” There was a possibility that was the wrong thing to admit to, but…

  “That’s okay,” he said, taking the keys out and handing them to her. Neither made a move to get out of the car though.

  She watched him for a moment—noticed how he was staring at the steering wheel and how he seemed to be thinking about something, but she had no idea what. Turning in her seat, she faced him. “Owen—”

  “I’d like to kiss you,” he blurted out.

  Her eyes went wide, and her heart beat madly in her chest. “You…you would?”

  Owen looked at her, his dark eyes so full of emotion. He shook his head. “I’m sure there was a more eloquent way to say that, but…I’m not very eloquent,” he added quietly.

  Reach
ing out, Brooke took one of his hands in hers—relishing the warmth she found there—and marveled at how large it was. And there was strength there. He didn’t have the hands of a man who sat behind a desk pushing papers around, and the skin-on-skin contact was far more arousing than she thought possible. “You’re more eloquent than you think you are,” she said softly.

  The look he gave her said he didn’t quite believe her. “I had a wonderful time with you tonight, Brooke, and I know we’re going to go inside and have a drink, and we’ll talk some more and…well…the longer we talk and the later it gets, it’s going to make me want to kiss you even more. It’s wrong for me to want to, but—”

  “Why is it wrong?” she interrupted.

  And there were those eyes that had her more than ready to crawl across the seat and into his lap. There was a vulnerability in his eyes that was almost her undoing.

  “I hurt you. I know you didn’t say anything about it, but I know Howard probably talked to you and told you about Red Rock.” He looked away and shook his head. “It was wrong of me to do it like that. I should have talked to you myself. I’m sorry.”

  “Owen, I’m not going to lie to you. I was hurt, and yes, I was pretty angry with you earlier. I know we haven’t known each other very long, but I thought we were at least becoming friends. I hated hearing about your decision from my uncle, but…I kind of understand why you did it that way. I’m sure it wasn’t an easy decision for you to make.”

  “None of this is easy,” he murmured and then looked up at her again. “I’m not good at this sort of thing—playing it cool and pretending I’m not interested in you when in fact I am. So…I’d completely understand if you didn’t want to stay and have that drink or talk like we’d planned. You’re probably sitting there trying to figure out a nice way to tell me to get out of the car.”

  Brooke was about to correct him, but Owen kept talking.

  “I thought about hiring you, but I couldn’t. Not because I don’t want you on the trip, but because I knew I couldn’t handle working with you every day and having you close by while I’m attracted to you. And knowing you were only there because you wanted to paint and that you weren’t interested in me.”