Before I can get the words out, he’s looking at the screen, a strange and far-away look on his face. Without an ounce of the care and concern he had earlier, he looks at me, his eyebrows pulled together in an angry scowl, his lips in a firm, mean line. “Find anything interesting?” he sneers.
“Owen, I can explain.” My attempts to explain anything are lost on his retreating back.
Chapter 7
Owen
“Aren’t you going to work today, honey?” Mom asks as she peeks her head into my bedroom.
A low groan from under my pillow is the only response she’s getting, but I should know it would take more than that to keep her from prodding. The bed dips, barely, under the weight of her sitting next to me. My calves are sticking out from under the sheet; I never could sleep with them covered up. She pats them, forcing me to roll over and at least face her. “You didn’t go in yesterday either. Anything you want to talk about?”
The words “not with you” hang on my tongue, but I think better of speaking them, knowing that she’ll just smack me upside the head for my rude remark. “I’m fine, Mom.”
“By chance, does this two-day-I’m-not-getting-out-of-bed funk have anything to do with that pretty girl waiting for you downstairs?”
What pretty girl? The only one I can think of is Elle, but why would she be here?
Mom’s eyebrow lifts with accusation and playfulness. “Uh huh. That’s what I thought.” Her laughter fills the room. “Now get your ass outta this bed and get down there.”
“All right, all right.” I sit up in bed; thoughts of facing Elle force my drowsiness away quickly.
Grabbing a T-shirt from the desk chair in my room, I walk into the bathroom. After brushing my teeth and running a hand through my hair, I walk down the stairs and find Elle sitting at my dining room table, quietly chatting with my mom. They share a small smile before realizing I’m in the room. Mom squeezes Elle’s hand before rising from her seat. She shoots me a you-better-be-nice look, her eyes stern and her lips set in a firm line.
What the hell did I do wrong?
“Can we go outside?” Elle asks, looking over at me. My gut churns in anger when my eyes land on the pink welt on her cheek. She holds out her small hand, extending it to the back door.
Nodding, I stride over to it and hold it open for her. There’s a small creek running through the backyard. Lazily, we stroll down to its bank and sit on a log bench. We sit in awkward silence for a few minutes before I finally speak. “Why did you need to look me up?”
She shoots me an odd look. “Owen, it’s 2014. Everyone googles everyone. You’re not the first person who’s been found online. Besides, it’s not like I uncovered some undercover drug smuggling operation or anything.” Her eyebrows rise in jest.
“Nah, I keep that shit very well-hidden,” I deadpan, loving the fact that she can’t tell if I’m joking or not right away.
“Ha, ha, ha,” she mocks with sarcasm. “But really,” she twists in her seat, angling her body toward me. “Why didn’t you tell me about all of that?”
Shrugging, I toss a rock into the water, watching the waves spread out around it. “You saw me for what you wanted to see me as; besides, it’s not too far from the truth.”
“You have an MBA from Boston College,” she exclaims. “That’s a far cry from a simple farmer.” I nod and we sit in silence for a moment before she continues speaking. “So when you were talking about all those documents, you weren’t just making stuff up, were you?” she asks, already knowing the answer.
I nod in response, tossing another rock into the water. “Look, Elle. I don’t know what to tell you. I got into BC on a full academic scholarship, promised myself and my mother that I’d learn how to make enough money that we’d never have to live like this again.” Angling my head back to the house, she knows what I mean. “The man you praise as being your mentor, left before I was even born, didn’t even want me around.” My intent is not to hurt her by cutting my father down, but rather to tell her the truth about him for once. “He never even bothered to know me.”
Her long fingers fall to my forearm. “Owen, I think you’re wrong.” After pulling a few sheets of paper out of her back pocket, she hands them over to me.
Unfolding and reading through them opens me up to a world I ever knew existed. “What is this?” I ask, my tone quiet and unsure.
“He did care,” Elle’s words and her eyes exude care and concern.
“But this can’t be– no, I don’t– he didn’t…” Pausing, I find myself fumbling over my own words, completely incapable of dealing with this revelation.
“Well, he cared enough to set you up with a college fund to pay for all four years. It’s possible that he loved you, but just didn’t know how to show it in the right way. Maybe you should talk to your mom about it. She might be able to tell you more, but that’s what we were talking about before you came downstairs. She knew you’d be mad. Are you?”
Another blip of silence falls around us as I take stock of my emotions. Am I mad? The reality is I’ve spent my entire teenage and young adult existence being pissed off at a man I never knew. It’s not all over and done with. I don’t think I can ever fully forgive him, but knowing that he at least felt like he owed me and Mom something helps to make up for it a little.
“No, I don’t think I am. I’ll have to get to the bottom of the whole thing, but that’s between me and my mom.” As I finish my words, I realize her hand is still on my arm, which brings me around to my line of questioning.
“So what was going on with you and Robertson?” Just saying his name makes my blood boil. My fist clenches at my side, relaxing only when Elle places her small hand on top of it.
“Well– uh…” she stammers, chewing on her tongue rather than spitting out an explanation.
“Let me guess. You only have a thing for clean-cut, prim and proper businessmen. And now that you know who I really am, you’re here to make nice, right?” Cynicism and sarcasm drip from my words.
“What?” she gasps a high-pitched defense. “No! Not at all.” Her eyes beg me to believe her, and even though I might not want to, I have to. There’s an unparalleled honesty brewing in those mocha irises that I can’t deny.
“Then please explain it to me, because when I saw him pick you up, you two looked chummy. Then we were out dancing and we looked pretty chummy. The next thing I know, he’s slapping you around. I don’t get it, Elle.”
“I was trying to pull one over on you,” she confesses, surprising the shit out of me. When the look on my face morphs into the I-don’t-quite-understand one, she continues, “Vincent had plans for the estate. He wanted to turn it into a wedding venue. I knew that there was bad blood between the two of you, so I went ahead and pitched the idea to Mr. Robertson and his partners in the hopes they’d invest. I wanted to do it all without you. There’s this part of me that needs to prove I’m good at what I do.” She pauses, letting out a puff of a laugh. “So much for that I guess. He was only interested in taking advantage of me.” Hanging her head in her hands, she won’t even look at me.
“Hey,” I angle my head so that she can see me in her periphery, “listen to me.” I tip her chin so she faces me. Our eyes lock, which is just what I need for her not only to hear, but feel the next thing I have to say. “You did nothing wrong. He was an asshole for even thinking he had a right to touch you.”
Silently, she nods, turning her head away so I can’t see the tear streaking down her cheek. “Come here.” Pulling her into my arms, I inhale the sweet, lingering smell of her shampoo. “I think we both need to just start over. How does that sound?”
She peeks up at me, uncertainty in her eyes. “I was terrible to you and you saved me, and now you’re offering me a do-over?”
“If you’ll take it.” I look down at her, hoping for the best. The guilt over feeling like I could seduce her out of the company rest heavily on my conscience.
A cheery smile graces her beautiful face. Extendi
ng her hand, she shakes mine in a firm grip. “Deal,” she confirms as I chuckle at her exuberance.
Standing from the log, I hold my hand out and help her up. “Your leg seems to be doing okay.”
She looks down at it as if she’s seeing it for the first time. “Oh, yeah. It was better yesterday. Thanks for carrying me, though.” A heated pink blush colors her cheeks.
Stepping closer to her, I brush her hair from her face. “It was my pleasure.” While keeping my eyes on hers, I lean in and press a sweet and hopefully sensual kiss to her round and still-heated cheek. “It would also be my pleasure to take you out to dinner tonight,” I say as we make our way back toward my house.
She opens and closes her mouth a few times, unable to answer. She does that a lot and I’ve come to think it’s the most adorable thing ever. “Part of this let’s-start-over plan, please?”
“Okay,” she whispers, barely nodding her head.
“Good,” I say, a smile whispering across my face. “Here we are,” I announce before softly pushing her back up against the door of her car.
“I’m still going into work today, unlike some people.” She eyes me playfully, winking at my more-than-casual attire. Noticing how her eyes linger on my T-shirt-covered chest, I know she really can’t mind all that much. Pressing my body into hers even more makes her whimper before mumbling, “What time?” Her words are breathless, her eyes wide, her lips wet.
She leans against my fingers as they graze her cheek. “I’ll pick you up at five, okay?” Her eyes close as my fingers travel down her upper arm.
“Hmmm…” she moans before I call her back to the here and now.
“Elle, look at me.” Her eyes flutter open and immediately fall to my lips. “Tonight,” I add quietly, running my thumb along her pink lower lip. “I’ll kiss you tonight, when my mom isn’t watching from the front window.”
At the mention of my mom, Elle’s body stiffens, automatically making me think about what her body would do when it’s under mine, shattering apart, repeatedly. Mom offers us a quick wave before letting the curtains block us from her view once again.
With a quick kiss to the cheek, I send Elle on her way.
“Mom,” I call out when I walk back through the door. When I make my way into the living room, I sit next to her and turn off the television. “Very funny.” I shoot her a pointed look.
“What?” she asks, playing dumb like a fool.
“You were just at the window and now you’re going to play it off like you’re busy watching The Price is Right?” My question forces a harrumph from her mouth as she crosses her frail arms over her chest.
“Why didn’t you tell me about my father?” There’s no point in beating around the bush. She knows I know; I know she knows. Now, it’s time for us both to just come clean with it.
“You hated him, honey. And honestly, so did I for a while.” She twists in her seat. Facing me, I can see the tears building in her eyes. “When you were a senior in high school, he had a change of heart and he wanted to be a part of your life, but I knew you wouldn’t have it. You can be mad at me for making that decision for you, but like I already told you, there was part of me that was so fearful you’d choose him over me. I couldn’t deal with that.”
“Mom,” I pull her small hands into mine, “it’s okay.”
“Well, when I told him he wasn’t allowed to see you, he understood, but still wanted to give you the college fund he’d set up for you.”
“Did I earn any of that scholarship?”
“Of course you did, Owen. You are an intelligent and hardworking young man. He just helped close the gap. It was the one thing I couldn’t give you. Without his money, the scholarship wouldn’t have been enough and you wouldn’t be who you are.”
Letting the weight of her words sink in, some of the hatred and anger I’ve felt over the years evaporates. When I received that call from the lawyer just a few short weeks ago, I thought my life had been turned upside down for the worse. Being thrown into a partnership with a woman I couldn’t stand, at a place that belonged to the man I’d spent my life not knowing, but hating all the same, seemed like the perfect hell.
But now, with pieces of my past laid out before me, and the possibilities of a budding relationship with Elle on the horizon, I realize it was all the perfect opportunity.
Mom and I spend the next hour or so talking about nothing and everything. After she makes plans to go out with a friend, I call Peter to check in. He lets me know that everything is fine and that Elle just showed up. Apparently, when both of us didn’t show up this morning, it caused quite a bit of gossip.
Well, they’re all going to be in for an even bigger shock when they see me pick Elle up for our date later.
***
“Oh, my goodness!” Rosie exclaims, clamping a hand over her mouth. “You look like one of those GQ models, Owen.” Standing in front of me, she runs her hands over the sleeve of my leather jacket. “One of those bad-boy GQ models,” she adds dreamily.
“Thanks, Rosie.” Tipping my head at the door, I ask, “Elle in?”
“Of course. Go ahead.” Rosie smiles and I have to think she’s more than okay with our date. Not that we need her approval, but I’ve seen the relationship between her and Elle.
“Hey,” I announce as I walk in the room. With a pen sticking out of her messy bun, Elle is scouring through papers, a frantic energy filling the room. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh, nothing, it’s nothing.” Her attempt at deflection pisses me off something awful. Standing in front of her desk, I lean forward and place my palms on the cool, dark wood.
“Cut the ‘it’s nothing’ shit, Elle. Something is clearly wrong and this is my company, too. So tell me what the problem is so we can both fix it.” My voice is calm and controlled, demanding but not mean.
She flops back in her seat. When she looks up at me, her eyes lazily rove over my body. Now, that’s the reaction I was going for – eyes wide, mouth open, rendered speechless. When she regains her sense of composure, she swallows hard, allowing herself one last lust-filled glance.
Whatever she’s been working on is clearly exhausting her. It’s clear as day in her warm brown eyes. “I lined up another investor. They want to meet with me, I mean us, tomorrow.”
“That’s good, though. Right?” Pulling the chair up, I sit back, trying to figure out why this would be such a bad thing.
“They want plans for the venue that I just don’t have. Numbers and figures I didn’t even think of. They want a blueprint – not a finalized one, but one that would give them enough of an idea of the vision. Staffing, food costs, things like that; things I hadn’t thought of.” Her words come out in a rush, but the disappointment in her own lacking forethought is there nonetheless.
“It’ll be okay, Elle. You put this together on your own, and from what I can tell, it was your first solo project. You’re allowed to make mistakes.” My words do nothing to make her relax.
“No. I’m not. Mistakes are for the weak. I need to make this project work, not just for Vincent but for myself, for the future of this vineyard. I can’t tell you how important this is to me.”
“Can you try? I’m going to help you one way or the other, but I’d like to know why this is so important.” Reaching across the desk, I pull her hand into mine. Our eyes meet and she nods, letting some of the weight lift from her shoulders.
“It could take all night,” she adds, sarcasm hanging on her words.
“I’d love to spend all night with you, but let me make one call first,” I add with a wink. Making her laugh and smile helps to lighten the mood. Because it feels like whatever she has to tell me is going to be anything but light.
Chapter 8
Elle
“My dad beat my mom, a lot.” Those words used to be so difficult to say, but they aren’t anymore. They’re the truth, after all. With years of therapy behind me, I now realize it’s not my fault.
Looking over at Owen, his reaction t
o my confession is anything but calm. “Did he ever beat you?” Owen seethes. Visions of what happened yesterday flash in my mind, and through his I’m sure.
“No,” I assure him. “Mom kicked him out before he ever got the chance. That might have been her one shining moment.” My shoulders sag thinking about what my childhood could have been like.
“What is she like?” Owen asks, quiet concern lacing through his words.
Shrugging, I search for the words to put her in the best, but still honest light. “She was a good mother. She tried her best, really she did, but she was a drunk and we were poor. So I was on my own a lot. She never sobered up enough to take Dad to court or ask for child support, so when I was old enough to get a job, I did. When my high school opened up its intern program, there was a spot here and I saw the possibility that I could make something of myself. I wanted to run a company and never have to go without. So now, instead of worrying about Mom taking care of me, I take care of her. Her drinking is under control, but she’ll never be able to stop.” Steadying my voice, I add, “At least now, she doesn’t have to worry about paying for rent.”
“You and I aren’t all that different,” Owen’s words break me out of my state of self-pity. When I look up, he finishes his thoughts, “I spent my whole life trying to prove that I wasn’t a product of my environment, that I could be more than people thought I could. That’s why you pissed me off so much,” he adds with a soft chuckle.
“I’m–” he cuts my apology in half.
“I know you’re sorry. It’s okay, really. We were both thrown into this situation blindly, but the more I think about it, the more I realize my father probably had a larger plan in mind.” As Owen scans my face, his eyes take on a bit more of a seductive look.
“Oh, yeah and how’s that?” I walk around the desk and prop myself on the edge, crossing my legs. This cat and mouse game of the last few weeks has worn me down. Seeing Owen’s compassionate side warms me to him in ways I wasn’t initially ready for.
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