Falling for Owen

by Jennifer Ryan

  “I like being with you,” she admitted.

  “Come up to the house and be with me.”

  “I’d like that,” she said simply, knowing he meant for dinner, for company, for whatever else this night held for them.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  * * *

  OWEN WALKED UP the porch steps and stopped at the front door. Claire waited beside him, sneaking a peak at his ass while he leaned over and pried off his boots. He hid the smile, but enjoyed the thrill in his gut, the anticipation coursing through him that maybe tonight they’d take that next step. He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted any other woman. Kissing her made his head spin and his body hum. He could only imagine what making love to her would be like. Nothing compared to touching her. He needed to touch her and feel her body against his. This thing between them was different. Because it was so unique and new, it made it all the more fun to wait, because he wasn’t looking to get it over with, scratch the itch and move on. No, this time making love to a woman, this woman, would make him want even more.

  He craved her.

  Everything about her appealed to him, right down to her sweet smile and delightful laugh. With kittens crawling over her legs and one on her shoulder, she’d looked so happy and content. Just about weaned from their mother, he’d find homes for all of them, except the little redhead Claire so obviously adored.

  He opened the door and let it swing wide, allowing Claire to go in ahead of him. He walked in behind her and stopped short when she paused in the wide entry. The empty living room to their left. Family room to the right. She looked from one to the other and glanced over her shoulder, one eyebrow raised in question.

  “I’ve made all the needed repairs to the inside and outside of the house and barn, but I haven’t had time to furnish and decorate all the rooms.”

  “Empty living room because you don’t entertain here. Leather sofa, big-screen TV, wood tables in the family room. Guy comfort.”

  “Brody comes by to watch a game sometimes, but otherwise, I’m mostly alone out here. Why? You don’t like it?”

  “Actually, it looks rather comfortable. I like the simplicity of it. You need a rug to cover the hardwood floors and anchor everything. Maybe some colorful pillows to brighten things a bit, but I love the black wrought iron lamps with the amber glass shades.”

  “I saw them in a shop downtown. I wanted something that didn’t seem so bright.”

  “I imagine after reading legal briefs and law books all day, the muted light helps with your tired eyes and helps you relax after a long day.”

  She paid attention. He liked her insight. The one thing he liked about living out here was the peace and quiet. His days were hectic and filled with meetings and court appearances. Here, he could relax.

  Right about the rug, maybe some pillows, some kind of art on the walls in soft colors to brighten things but still keep it relaxed would round out the room. Maybe she’d help him out with those things.

  Did he want her to help him decorate his house? He’d never really cared what anyone thought about his place. Yeah, he wanted her to like it here. He wanted her to want to be here with him.

  “What’s your favorite color?” he asked.

  “Green. Blue. Purple.”

  He thought of the grassy fields outside. The blue sky he loved to sit on the porch and stare at for hours. The purple sunsets in spring. He liked her way of thinking. Or at least the way she made him think.

  Yeah, those colors would work really well in here.

  “Come on back to the kitchen. I’ll get you set up before I take a quick shower.”

  Owen led the way down the short hall that opened into the wide kitchen with the windows off the back of the house. He loved this room and the way the light streamed in at dawn.

  “Owen, this is beautiful. I love the white cabinets with the light sand-granite countertops. The pale green walls are bright and warm. I love the hardwood floors throughout. This place is really great.”

  “I’m glad you like it.” He pulled the bottle of pinot grigio from the fridge and grabbed the corkscrew from a drawer.

  “Don’t pour that for me.”

  He turned to her with a wine glass in his hand. “No?”

  “White wine gives me a migraine.”

  “Really? But you drank the red the other night.”

  “Red doesn’t have the same effect on me.”

  “I’ll be darned. Okay, I have a bottle of the red. Would you like that instead?”

  “Sounds great. So, what’s for dinner?”

  “I’ve got a couple of steaks in the fridge. I’ll grill them up after I shower. I still need to make the salad and potatoes.”

  “I’ll do that while you get cleaned up.”

  “Sit down. Relax. I won’t be but a few minutes, and I’ll take care of it.”

  “Don’t be silly. I’ll do it. Unless you don’t want me rummaging through your cupboards.”

  “The house is yours. If you want to see the rest of the place, be my guest. Of course, the only room upstairs that’s furnished is mine.”

  “You really did only do the rooms you needed.”

  “It’s just me, rambling around this big house. Didn’t seem necessary. There’s a half bath past the stairs. The salad stuff is in the fridge. You’ll find some bowls in the cabinet to the right of the stove. Potatoes are in the pantry. Whatever else you need or want is probably around here somewhere.”

  “Go. Clean up. I’ve got this. The kitchen is my domain.”

  He liked seeing her here, drinking wine, making herself at home in his kitchen. She pulled out the tub of mixed greens, carrots, tomato, cucumber, and red onion from the fridge and set them on the counter. Her head came up and she stared at him.

  “Really, I’ve got it.”

  “I see you do. It’s just I wanted to do it for you, then the horse . . .”

  “Owen, it’s very sweet you wanted to make me dinner, but I don’t mind. You got caught up taking care of your chores. No big deal.”

  “Claire.”

  She looked up from opening the bag of carrots.

  “Thanks for making this easy.”

  “It is easy. No reason to make it hard because things didn’t go exactly as you planned. How do you like your potatoes?”

  “Cooked,” he answered to make things easy for her.

  “That I can do, no problem.”

  “If I wasn’t a total mess, I’d hug you.”

  “Then you owe me when you come back.”

  “Deal.”

  CLAIRE WAITED FOR Owen to leave the kitchen before she poked through his cabinets and pantry for what she needed. She fell in love with the kitchen. He may have gone bachelor bare in the living room, but he’d spared no expense in the kitchen, adding dividers in the drawers for utensils. They slid in and out and closed by themselves. She loved the huge refrigerator. He may not have very much in the way of actual food—beer took up one whole shelf—but the sheer size and newness of it made her jealous.

  Her fridge didn’t work nearly as well. The vegetable drawer froze her lettuce and anything on the door was barely above room temperature.

  The contents of Owen’s fridge implied he’d shopped for their meal, but not for much more. Maybe breakfast, judging by the two cartons of eggs.

  The thought of staying and making Owen breakfast in the morning brought out another smile and made her belly glow warm. She couldn’t remember ever smiling this much when thinking about a man. Oh, her ex had made her smile in the beginning, but they dimmed with suspicions of his ulterior motives. Owen wanted her in his bed, but that isn’t all he wanted. He wanted to get to know her, to please her with this dinner date, and to protect her from any more trouble.

  Settled into the kitchen and Owen’s home, she went out the back door to the patio and smiled at the huge stainless steel grill. Such a guy thing. She liked the black wrought iron round table with chairs. The small puddles on the deck told her he’d spent some time washing
things down before going to the barn to take care of other chores. A potted red geranium stood alone by the deck rail. The other pots were filled with dirt, but no plants. The backyard was nothing more than hacked-down weeds. The beauty of the yard came from the two towering trees on both sides of the patchy grass. Their thick branches sprawled high over the yard, deck, and house, shading everything. Dappled light filtered through the bright green leaves. She loved the peaceful cocoon they made over this lovely backyard spot.

  She opened the lid of the grill, thinking to give it a clean and heat it for the potatoes, but didn’t need to. The man kept a clean grill. She turned the knob and lit the burners. Lid closed, she turned to the pile of cushions by the back door. They still had the tags on them. He’d bought them for their date tonight. She tore off the tags and set the cushions on the chairs. Pleased with the dark green color against the black metal and the yard, she smiled.

  In the house, she found a cylindrical clear glass vase and a tall pitcher. She went back into the pantry and grabbed a fat pillar candle and three thin taper candles. She put the pillar in the pitcher. She found a lighter in a drawer and lit one of the tapers and dripped wax into the base of the vase and placed each taper in the hot wax to keep them standing. She blew out the candle for now and took her makeshift candle holders out to the table along with the lighter. They’d dine by candlelight.

  She went back into the house, pulled foil from another drawer and tore off a long sheet. Back in the pantry, she grabbed the bag of potatoes and an unopened jar of minced garlic. At the sink, she washed the potatoes and set them on the cutting board. She cubed them and dumped them into a bowl along with a tablespoon of the minced garlic. She sprinkled them with salt and pepper and a drizzle of olive oil. She mixed the whole lot and dumped the concoction onto the tin foil she’d laid out. She tore off another sheet of foil and covered the potatoes, sealing the edges into a packet. She cleaned up the mess, wiping down the cutting board, and slid her potato packet onto the board to take out to the grill. She lifted the lid and slid the packet onto the rack and closed the lid.

  Nearly done, she went back into the kitchen, chopped the mixed greens and put them in the large bowl. She added chopped carrots, tomato, cucumber, and red onion. She found a jar of sunflower nuts in the pantry and sprinkled them over the salad, along with the shredded cheddar cheese she pulled from the meat drawer in the fridge. She covered the pretty salad with plastic wrap and put it in the fridge to keep chilled.

  Finished with those portions of the meal, she topped off her glass of wine, poured another for Owen, and took them both out to the table to wait for him.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  * * *

  OWEN STEPPED OUT of the lukewarm shower still mentally berating himself for botching his date with Claire so badly.

  “You invited her here to impress her with dinner and be alone with her, and here you are, late for the date, smelling like horse shit when she arrives, and she’s downstairs making dinner for you,” he said to his wet mug in the mirror above the sink. “Just great.”

  In a hurry, he toweled himself off, swiped the towel back and forth over his dripping hair before dropping it to the floor and grabbing his brush. He ran it through his hair a couple of times to get it in order. He rubbed his hand over his scruffy face and thought about shaving, but didn’t want to take the time.

  “She’s waiting for you. Hurry the hell up.”

  When did he start talking to himself? The woman was making him crazy, because all he wanted to do was rush downstairs to be with her.

  Finished in the bathroom, he walked naked into his bedroom and swore at the unmade bed. His back to it, he grabbed a pair of boxer briefs from the dresser drawer and pulled them on. Going with Claire’s casual style, he grabbed a dark blue long-sleeve Henley from the closet, put it on, and dragged on a clean pair of jeans. He dismissed socks and shoes and grabbed a pair of sheets from the linen closet in the hall to make the bed.

  Wishful thinking? Maybe. But better to be prepared for anything. Especially when a woman like Claire was involved. She’d had this look about her earlier when she commented on the many ways he dressed. She wanted him. He didn’t know if she’d give in to that need tonight or not, but God, he wanted to seduce her into his arms and into his bed. She’d already worked her way under his skin and into his head. He’d handed her the reins to that part of their relationship, and he wouldn’t push her. He wanted to push and had to restrain himself from dragging her to his bed, but for the first time, it seemed important to take his time and allow her to do the same. They were building something here, something he wanted to last.

  He threw the off-white quilt over the matching sheets and straightened it. He stuffed the pillows into their cases and tossed them on the top of the bed, pulling the cover over them. Finished, he scanned the room and swore. He picked up the dirty clothes from the floor and chair by the window, walking into the bathroom to toss them into the hamper along with his soggy towel. He pulled out two clean towels and hung them on the bars by the shower. He didn’t know if he’d need both come morning.

  Relatively at ease that everything was in order here, he left his room and pounded down the stairs, rushing into the kitchen to help her with the rest of the preparations. He stopped short in the clean, empty room. Unwarranted panic rushed through his system that she’d given up on him and tonight’s date. He rushed to the back door and sighed his relief when he spotted her sitting at the table, her glass of wine in hand, her head resting on the seat as she stared up at the trees.

  Beautifully relaxed, she drew him to her even with her back to him. Tempted beyond reason, he leaned over the back of her chair, registered her surprise in her wide eyes before they went soft with her smile, and kissed her. Spiderman had nothing on him and the upside-down kiss. He took his time and she relaxed into the cushion and him. Her hands came up and latched on to his biceps, sliding up to his shoulders and back down again. He took the kiss deeper, sliding his tongue past her sweet lips to tangle with hers. Those lovely hands of hers slid back up to his shoulders. He wanted to release the arms of the chair and cup her full breasts and mold them in his hands, but refrained, keeping to his promise to keep things light. Still, the woman tempted him into sin. He’d go willingly and with a smile.

  Before things got out of hand, he kissed a trail from her lips, along her jaw, and down her neck. Since her head angled back, he had the perfect angle to nuzzle the soft skin under her chin. Her hands swept over his body to his neck and her fingers raked through his hair and she gripped on and held him tight.

  “You smell so good.”

  “I think that’s my line,” he said against the spot where her neck met her collarbone. She smelled of sunshine and flowers. Sweet and heady. “You’re just glad I don’t smell like horseshit anymore.”

  She giggled and the vibration in her throat tickled his lips, drawing him in to press harder to the thundering pulse point. Her fingers glided through his damp hair, and she held on and pulled his face away so she could look at him.

  “I put the potatoes on the barbeque. You need to get the steaks.”

  He needed to get her naked and underneath him. Too bad the good guy in him reminded him again to take things slow. The bad boy made him lean down and kiss the top of her rounded breast above her pretty pink sweater. He wondered if her nipples were the same pale pink, or a darker dusky color. He desperately wanted to find out.

  He stood and walked around the chair to face her and give her some space. She reached out and took his hand and gave it a squeeze.

  “You look great.”

  “Again, I think that’s my line,” he teased. “I’m clean and don’t smell like a horse. A definite improvement. And now I can touch you without mucking you up. I’ll get the steaks.”

  This time he gave her hand a squeeze and left her sipping her wine, a pretty blush on her cheeks after the kisses they’d shared. He pulled the platter of steaks from the fridge and unwrapped them. He snagged th
e steak rub from the counter by the stove and headed back outside. Claire stood in front of the barbeque, moving the foil packet over with a pair of tongs to the side to make room for the steaks. He set the steaks on the shelf at the side of the grill and leaned down and kissed her shoulder just above the sweater. Her long hair draped over her other shoulder and cascaded over her breast and down to her waist. He loved her golden hair. So bright and pretty in the dimming light.

  “Sweetheart, sit down. Let me do this. You’ve done enough after I blew the setup of this date.”

  “Nonsense. I don’t mind helping.”

  “You certainly did a better job with the salad. I wouldn’t have thought to add the sunflower seeds and cheese. It looks really good.”

  “You’re welcome. The potatoes are going to be even better.”

  “See, I would have just tossed them on to bake. What did you do?”

  “Diced them, added some garlic, salt, and pepper, a little olive oil. They’re going to be amazing.”

  “You’re amazing.” He gave her a quick kiss on the side of the head, stepped beside her, and grabbed the tongs to put the steaks on the grill. They sizzled when they hit the hot metal rack, and he closed the lid to let them cook.

  “I love it back here,” Claire said, a touch of nervousness in her voice he hoped to erase tonight. He wanted her to be comfortable with him all the time.

  “While the house and barn are in good shape, despite the lack of furnishings in all the rooms, the yard still needs some work. I haven’t had the time. Maybe you can help me out with that. I liked the planters and garden space you did at your shop.”

  “You could use some color back here. The trees provide a lot of shade and will help cut down on the amount of water you’ll need. You could do some taller bushes along the back by the fence line and other pretty flowers along the sides and in front of the deck. They’d outline this space from the rest of the pastures.”