Falling for Owen

by Jennifer Ryan

  “I’ll send an officer right away. We’ve got a problem with your name on it at the Walsh place down the road from you. Miss Walsh confronted a trespasser. Your guy is up for a hit and run charge and some other misdemeanors. Can you come down and answer some questions?”

  “Is Claire all right?”

  “Banged up, but nothing major.”

  Owen swore and raked his hand through his hair again. The thought of someone hurting the quiet, beautiful woman whose property adjoined his pissed him off. His stomach tied in knots. His mind conjured one terrible image after another. He hated to think of her hurt and frightened.

  He’d never formally met his long-distance neighbor, but he’d seen her several times in her yard when he stopped near her place to get his mail. He took his nieces into her store in town once in a while. They loved it. He liked looking at her. He might have asked her out, but she’d always had this off-limits vibe about her, even if she did stare at him sometimes with this odd look about her.

  Looks like he’d at least get an introduction tonight, though he didn’t think she’d be happy to meet him if his client’s ex caused her trouble and hurt her. Damn the drunk asshole.

  “On my way.” Owen put action to words and grabbed his jeans. “Send a deputy over to 214 Walnut Road. I’ll let my client know they’ll be there soon.”

  He switched lines and slid his legs into the jeans. He grabbed a long-sleeve shirt out of the dresser.

  “Shannon, I’ve asked the police to come and check on you. Dale harassed a woman and hit her with his car. If he comes back before they get there, do not open the door.”

  “Oh my God. Is the woman okay?”

  “I don’t know. I have to go see. Do not open the door to anyone but the cops. I’ll speak to you later.”

  He hung up and tossed the phone on his rumpled bed. Socks on, he grabbed his boots and stuffed his feet inside and ran down the stairs, grabbing his keys as he headed out the door to his truck. He jumped inside, started it up, and punched the gas, nervous and anxious to get to his neighbor’s place.

  Owen’s truck slid to a stop in the driveway behind two sheriff cars and the ambulance. The paramedics’ presence sent an ominous chill up his back. He had no idea how badly the woman had been hurt, but the thought of even one mark on her sent a shaft of guilt through his system. He should have done more to keep Dale behind bars longer.

  The headlights and porch lights lit his way around the ambulance to the walkway where the paramedics kneeled next to a blonde, her head bent to her chest as they worked on her feet. Propped on a gurney, her feet bled from multiple cuts. Owen ignored the looks from the deputy and his cousin, Dylan, and went directly to the woman. Kneeling beside her, he cupped her cheek in his palm and asked, “Are you okay?”

  Like slow motion, her face rose up and her eyes met his and he fell into the green depths and felt something shift inside his chest. The taut band that took hold of him with the call pulled tighter and stopped his breath. Her eyes filled with unshed tears. She shook and trembled under his hand, but she didn’t speak.

  “Hey now, you’re okay. It’s going to be fine. Don’t you worry. I’ll take care of everything.”

  “We need to talk,” Dylan said.

  Owen smiled at Claire, despite the circumstances.

  “Wish you could slap the cuffs on me this time?” he asked his cousin.

  “It’d be fun. For me. Why, feeling nostalgic?”

  “No. What happened?” Reluctantly, he stood and faced Dylan and this mess head on. He stayed right beside the woman. Drawn to her, the urge to protect her kept him rooted to his spot beside her. He wanted to touch her again, offer up some kind of comfort, but refrained, willing himself to be calm and act rationally and not touch a stranger like she was his best friend. And more.

  “Claire—”

  Pretty name.

  “—heard a noise outside and came down to investigate. A man, five-eleven with dark hair, appeared at the back door, where he’d broken several flower pots and fell over drunk. She went out to investigate. They exchanged words, and he threw a chair through the glass doors.” Dylan indicated he look through the open front door, straight back to the chair lying on its side on the dining table.

  “The description fits Dale, but how did you know this has to do with me?”

  “The guy, Dale, threatened to hurt her to make you pay for sleeping with his wife.”

  “I am not, nor have I ever slept with his wife. She’s a client. Let’s get that straight right now. I represented her in the divorce and helped put him behind bars for hurting her.”

  He didn’t know why he felt the need to defend himself so vehemently. He didn’t want Dylan thinking he slept with his clients. On second thought, he didn’t give a shit what Dylan thought. He didn’t want Claire thinking he would do something like that, or that he was dating anyone.

  Why did it matter so much? He knew her name, but didn’t know her. Still, something compelled him to make the clarification.

  Which is probably why he looked her right in the eye when he made the statement. He shot Dylan a cold glare. His cousin hid a smirk that set off Owen’s temper even more.

  “How long have you known Claire?” Dylan asked, a note of suspicion in the simple question.

  “I don’t. Not really. I’ve seen her in passing from the road when I grab my mail and at her shop in town.”

  “He brings the girls in sometimes,” Claire said from beside him. Hearing her voice, so soft and timid, made his gut tighten.

  “How is Rain?” Dylan asked.

  “She’s great.”

  “And happy Brody is back in town. I haven’t seen them since that shit went down with Roxy. I’ll have to stop by and catch up. He’s another reformed troublemaker.”

  Dylan had the luxury of growing up with a father who loved him and did right by him. Owen and Brody’s uncle wasn’t a drunk. No, he lived a good life with his wife and son and worked hard. They were well off, while Owen and Brody scraped by all their lives with their alcoholic father.

  Where Dylan grew up the high school all star, he and Brody had been the outcast troublemakers. Well, things changed.

  “We’re not cocky punks anymore. Aside from growing up, we took our lumps and learned our lessons. It’s been a long time since I trespassed on Ms. Firths’s property to fish in her pond.” One of his many smaller transgressions. “Now, tell me why Dale attacked Claire for no good reason.”

  “He thinks you’re having an affair with his wife,” Claire explained, drawing his attention once again.

  He bent next to her and gave her his full attention. “What did he say to you?”

  “He wanted to know where my husband is. I told him my ex doesn’t live here, and he said he saw him drive by in his truck. I knew at that point he didn’t mean my ex, but you. I tried to tell him he had the wrong person, but he swore he’d get back at you and he’d hurt me to do it.”

  She drifted off for a moment, so he brushed his fingers up and down her arm to draw her attention.

  “My head hurts,” she whispered, her eyes going soft and distant again.

  “She hit her head on the pavement after he hit her with the car,” Dylan explained. “Knocked her out for at least a couple of minutes.”

  “Honey, you need to go to the hospital. You probably have a concussion.”

  “We’re taking her for stitches and to get her head examined in a few minutes,” the paramedics confirmed.

  “I’ll come with you.”

  “Why?” Claire asked.

  “I’ll drive you home. You’re in no condition to be left on your own.”

  “I don’t need your help.”

  “You’ve got it all the same. In some roundabout way, this is partially my fault. The least I can do is make sure you’re tended to at the hospital and you’re safe when you return.”

  Claire considered the shambles of her dining room and patio. The glass scattered on the floor and the giant hole in the sliding gl
ass door. Her mind spun out with all she needed to do to put things right: Call the insurance company and a glass repair service. Clean the floor and board up the window. There went her kitchen budget. The trip to the hospital would probably wipe it out.

  “No new refrigerator, I guess.”

  “Dinosaurs aren’t as old as that thing you’ve got in your kitchen,” Dylan teased.

  Owen’s laugh and smile were sure to pull any woman in the vicinity under his enigmatic spell.

  She couldn’t help herself; she laughed with them. If it held a note of hysteria, oh well. She hurt everywhere, her muscles ached, and she felt like crying, but the tears didn’t come.

  “The man who did this really hates you,” she said.

  “I can handle him. He’s not a nice guy. He beat and mistreated his wife for years. She finally had enough and pressed charges. I convinced her to leave him for good.”

  The frustration in his voice spoke of a lot more to the story. “You don’t think she’ll stay away from him?”

  “I know he won’t stay away from her. We’ll find him and make sure he pays for hurting you.”

  “You think he’ll come back.”

  “If he thinks you’re tied to me, he might.”

  She appreciated his honesty and ran her shaking hand through her hair and brought it back down to her lap. He took it into his warm, rough hands and held it. Their eyes met again and she fell into the blue depths and his earnest gaze.

  “You’ll be okay. I promise.”

  Unable to answer, she gave him a nod. She wanted to believe him, but she’d learned over the past few years not to rely on anyone but herself for everything. She’d worked hard to rebuild her life and find a direction that made her feel self-assured and accomplished. She thought she’d put fear behind her and embraced this new life and living alone.

  She’d find her center again, once the initial terror wore off and she had her home back to rights. She’d take on a project in the house, maybe finish the master bath. She’d already bought all the supplies. She imagined how it would look once complete and sighed. God, how she’d like to sink into a warm bath, close her eyes, and forget this day ever happened.

  “Time to go,” the paramedic said.

  Owen stood and backed away, giving her space, but she wanted to call him back. The reassuring feeling she’d had when he held her hand disappeared under the rush of pain and fear she couldn’t escape.

  Her head spun and she reached up and put her hand to her aching head and the lemon-size knot at the back. The paramedics had cleaned off the blood. Right guy gave her an ice pack and she leaned back on it, closing her eyes.

  “I’ll be right behind you, Claire. I’ll catch up to you once the doctor sees you,” Owen promised.

  “You’re very kind, Mr. McBride, but it’s not necessary. I’m sure I can find my own way home.”

  “My name is Owen. Use it,” he pressed gently. “Get used to me hanging around. Until they find and lock up Dale, I’m not taking any chances he comes back and hurts you again. Besides, someone needs to help you clean up this place.”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  “You don’t have to do it alone. Get her in the ambulance,” he ordered the paramedics, not giving her a chance to argue further. Funny, she didn’t want to argue with him. She liked the idea of him hanging around. Who wouldn’t want a gorgeous man to help her out and protect her from the bad guy? Besides, she just liked looking at him. Tall, blond, eyes the color of a summer sky that went soft when his gaze fell on her. Every flex of his muscles revealed beneath the shirt that fit tight across his chest and over his well-defined arms. All that strength muted when he touched her softly. Her skin still tingled where he’d brushed his hand up and down her arm. She wondered if he’d make the rest of her feel that good if he kept touching her. Everywhere.

  Maybe she really did need her head examined.

  Chapter Five

  * * *

  HOURS LATER, TIRED and hurting, Claire sat on the bed behind the curtain in the ER. She’d been poked and prodded, had her head and cognitive and motor skills evaluated and her feet stitched in three different places. Luckily, none of the cuts on the bottom of her feet were too bad. She’d be able to walk, once the swelling went down. The sides of her feet hadn’t fared as well. Some of those cuts went deep.

  She had a new, not-so-cute pair of flip-flops. Still, they looked better than her bloodstained shirt. The blue fabric had faded long ago. Tight across her breasts, the fabric dropped to mid-thigh. She plucked at the unraveling thread at the hem. Time to throw it out.

  With her head bent, she stared at the pair of dark brown cowboy boots that appeared on the floor just past her feet. She looked up and nearly laughed when Owen made a point to look her right in the eye, instead of dipping his gaze to the deep V in her shirt and her nearly completely exposed breasts, thanks to the paramedic cutting it open to check her bruised and scraped shoulder. She appreciated his good manners, and the way he seemed to ignore her state of undress for her benefit. Mostly. He shifted from one foot to the other, signaling his discomfort. The intensity of his stare made her feel like she held his complete attention. She liked it. It filled her with a warmth she’d never felt and wanted to keep, but she’d fallen for a handsome man once before and found nothing but heartache and anger when his need for every female’s attention overshadowed every promise he’d made to her. Never again. Still, it didn’t hurt to look. And dream.

  “Ready to go? The doctor signed you out.”

  She could get used to that deep, husky voice. “Sure.”

  He didn’t make a move to leave, so she stared at him and tried to lighten the mood and his intense study of her. “I don’t think pink’s your color.”

  “Huh?”

  “Is that my robe you’re holding on to?”

  He’d walked in with it over his shoulder. He held it in his hand and brushed his fingers over the soft material. She bought it for the same reason. She’d never felt anything so soft against her skin. A tactile person, she loved to buy soft, luxurious-feeling things because sometimes all you had to hug was a blanket.

  Judging by the muscles stretching the cotton shirt Owen wore, there wasn’t much soft about him. She liked that, too. Sometimes wrapping yourself in strength gave another kind of comfort. One she hadn’t allowed herself in a long time. Tonight, after the ordeal she’d been through, she wouldn’t mind having those strong arms wrapped around her and pressing her cheek to his hard chest.

  Maybe the doctor could give her a pill to counteract the stupidity part of her brain. This man had children with a beautiful woman she didn’t know. Their relationship seemed more like friends, and she’d put him and the kids’ mother in the divorced or never married and separated category. Either way, he wasn’t for her.

  Owen pulled the robe off his shoulder and draped it over her back. She stuffed her right arm in with ease, but her left shoulder hurt like hell where she landed and skidded on the driveway. The nurse had placed an ice pack over it and wrapped her shoulder with an elastic bandage to hold it in place. Cold, her nipples stood out against the T-shirt’s thin fabric. The nurse left ten minutes ago to get her a blanket, but must have gotten sidetracked with a more important task.

  “Let me help you. That shoulder doesn’t look so good.”

  “It’s not so bad.”

  “Now that it’s numb, right?”

  She giggled. “Right.”

  “Nice shoes.”

  She stared down at her bandaged feet in the flip-flops. “Yeah. Want to go dancing?” she teased.

  “Any time you want.” His voice didn’t hold a teasing tone, but she let it go, remembering him with his girls and the woman he may or may not be together with now, but still had a commitment to because of those beautiful little ones. She thought fleetingly again about what she’d wanted out of her marriage and how all her dreams crashed and burned along with the vows her ex made to her.

  The nurse walked in with a wheel
chair, saving her from having to comment. Owen took her arm to help her off the bed. That same zing of heat and awareness rippled through her at his touch. His smoldering blue gaze met hers, but she settled into the chair, avoiding the look and what it told her. He may be interested, but she refused to be the other woman in his life.

  Owen took over for the nurse and wheeled Claire out the double doors of the ER and straight to his truck parked at the curb. He set the brake and took her hand to help her up. He liked touching her. Something strange came over him that he liked so much he felt compelled to do it again and again.

  Her condition made climbing into the truck difficult, so he put his hands on her tiny waist and lifted her up and into the seat. Her hands grabbed hold of his shoulders and for a second he stared at her with his hands on her and her hands on him, a wonderful electricity circling through him to her and back. Connected. He’d never felt this way about any other woman he’d touched.

  Again, she broke free of the spell first and scooted further onto the seat. He let her go. She’d been through a lot tonight. Tired, she let out a yawn and settled back in the seat. He took both her feet, knocking off the flip-flops, and placed both her feet on the dashboard. He brushed his fingers over her pretty pink painted nails, smiling because she had really cute toes.

  “All set?”

  “Uh, yeah, I’m fine.”

  He grabbed the seat belt and wrapped it around her, leaning in close. She didn’t move. Held her breath. He hid a smile, knowing he affected her as much as she stirred him.

  Yeah, he’d dance to any tune she played. An unsettling thought for a man who’d spent his life enjoying women, never really taking the time to get to know them. Not really. He had a million questions he wanted to ask Claire. Well after three in the morning, he’d have to wait. A perfect excuse to see her again. Not that he needed a reason.