“What do you like in your omelets?”
She pulled her gaze to his face, knowing that to do otherwise would only encourage him. “You’re cooking?” Grace didn’t recall her fridge being filled with much more than bottled water, bagged salad, fruit and some chicken breasts. She ate more than half her meals at the office and often didn’t have time to do much more than throw together something simple when she was at home. She kept meaning to join one of the city’s community gardens and take a small plot of land to plant and grow her own veggies. But time always ran away on her. There was always a more pressing need.
“I found some fancy cheese.” Owen displayed the wrapped package, a leftover from a couple of weeks ago when her dinner had been a baguette and cheese. “A couple of tomatoes, green onions and half a pepper.”
“That sounds great.” She sank down on one of the breakfast bar stools, her back to the living room while she watched Owen work. If asked, Grace wouldn’t have said she found the idea attractive, and yet Owen’s cute butt winking away at her as he whipped the eggs, chopped the veggies and put a pat of butter in the pan was hugely appealing. She shifted in her seat. “I thought you understood that the outfit was as unnecessary as calling me mistress.”
“I did.” Owen poured the whipped eggs into the pan. “But you like it.” He cocked his hip. “Even if you pretend otherwise.” Since Grace had no answer to that, she said nothing.
He finished the omelets, slid them onto a pair of plates like an expert, topped up the coffee and then sat down beside her. “What do you feel like doing today?”
Grace put her fork down without taking a bite. “I have to work today.” She waited for him to try to talk her out of it.
Instead, he forked up a bite of his own omelet, swallowed and looked at her plate. “It’s good. I can vouch for it.”
Grace picked up her fork and had a small taste. It was good. Better than the dry chicken breast and plain salad she’d probably eat tonight.
“What about tonight? Dinner?”
She put her fork down again. “Owen, we’re not going out for dinner because we aren’t dating.”
“My outfit would say otherwise, or do you think I show this world-class tush to everyone?” When she continued to stare at him, he exhaled. “Fine. I will argue that two people who are friends who are strictly platonic can go out for dinner and not raise any red flags. But if you’re going to be that way...”
Grace stared some more. “It was my one rule.”
“Then we’ll have dinner in. You need to eat. I need to eat. We’ll eat together. I can cook, but I only know one meal.”
“The omelet?” Which was very good. Certainly better than she could do.
“Okay, I know three meals. One breakfast—this delicious omelet.” He ate another bite as though proving his point. “Lunch—Salad Niçoise on a baguette. And dinner—roasted chicken breasts, potatoes with lemon and rosemary and a spinach salad. Most of which you have here, if you were so inclined to trust my skills in the kitchen again.”
Grace was torn. She’d barely agreed to continue seeing him and already he was pushing her boundaries, wedging his way past them as if they were made of nothing more than air. But chicken and potatoes sounded really good. And she did need to eat. “We aren’t going out after for dessert or to walk off the food or for any reason unless the building is on fire.”
Owen agreed rather quickly. “Of course not. I have other plans for us after dinner.” She didn’t need to see the heated look in his eyes to know exactly what he was referring to.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
OWEN FOUND HIMSELF eating dinner at Grace’s most nights after that. He’d pick up takeout or she would. Sometimes he’d pop in to see Julia at La Petite Bouchée and order a couple of to-go meals. Julia knew who he was buying for, and she’d even tease him about it, but she didn’t say anything to Grace, for which Owen was grateful. He felt as though he and Grace were getting somewhere, but if she thought he was breaking her lone rule, he worried that she might put a stop to things.
For now, it was enough. He wasn’t looking for claims of love or promises that lasted a lifetime. He was simply enjoying what they had and he thought she was, too. She certainly wasn’t kicking him out of her bed. Not even that one time he ate crackers.
The weather had turned cool with the onset of fall, which meant peeling Grace out of many warm layers. He liked seeing them slide away, each successive removal showing off more and more of her body, so that when she finally stood before him in nothing but her lingerie he was so turned on that he could barely hold back. He’d ripped a couple pairs of her underwear in his haste, but since he’d replaced them with other pretty flimsy bits, she hadn’t seemed to mind.
Although she still insisted that they not be seen in public in any way that might indicate a relationship, she had agreed to exchange apartment keys. She said it was only for ease of meeting. Owen wasn’t so sure, but since he wasn’t sure what he wanted it to mean, he was satisfied to leave it alone.
It was easier. Sometimes he wanted to get to her place early, for instance if he was cooking, so that when she got in they could spend their time before he had to leave for his work together rather than trying to chat over the sizzle of a pan. And now, when he got off work, he didn’t have to wake her up to let him in. Because he spent most nights with her.
He used his key now, juggling a cloth bag of food, a bottle of wine and flowers. Grace loved getting fresh flowers, so he bought them regularly. She seemed to prefer the simplicity of white and they did suit the decor of her home, so he usually just bought whatever he thought would look best without actually noting what kind they were. He and the florist were becoming rather close friends and she generally guided him in the right direction.
Owen put the flowers in a silver vase and displayed it on her mantel, then he set about prepping for dinner. Which, since the food he’d brought was premade, meant putting into warming dishes and keeping the wine cool.
Grace appreciated a set table, so he put place mats on the small two-seater in her living room. It was placed under the window, so they could look out at the city and the partial view she had of the North Shore Mountains. Then he dimmed the lights and lit candles.
He liked the routine of it, and knowing how much Grace enjoyed it gave him a physical rush. He liked doing things for her, liked the way she appreciated the simple things, liked how she returned the favor, making sure there was always bottled water and beer in her fridge. How she’d even learned the rules of football so she could watch with him on Sundays. The fact that she often worked on her laptop during the games or that he got called into work half the time didn’t matter. The point was they both did things for each other and enjoyed it. Just like a real couple.
Owen settled on the couch and flicked on the TV, watching the news while he waited for Grace. Just like a real couple who couldn’t be seen together. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t bother him. It did. More than he’d expected. But Grace had her reasons and although he didn’t agree, he could understand them. He knew what it was like to have an employer deem him wanting. He faced it every day when he looked at his brother, although Donovan had been better of late.
Owen blew out a breath. His brother was tough, which was fine. Owen didn’t mind tough, but he often felt as though he was held to a different standard. Yes, he’d earned some of that. When Donovan and Mal had been busy working through high school, university and after, he’d been fooling around. But he was different now. He was a hard worker and while he might not have their education when it came to the food and beverage industry, he brought his own set of skills to the table. He was the best with people. Not just customers and partners, but staff, too.
He wanted to do more. He was ready for more. But Donovan seemed content to keep him at Elephants, permitting him to make small changes, but nothing more. Owen knew he nee
ded to push harder, to demand more. But he’d wait until the wedding was over.
Donovan and Julia were getting married on New Year’s Day. It was one of the few days in the restaurant industry when businesses were closed, which meant all the invitees could attend. And it was coming up fast, less than six weeks away.
Owen could wait six weeks. It wasn’t very long and he had plenty to keep him busy. Including Grace. Six weeks until he could take her out in public and show her off. Six weeks until he could introduce her to the family as his girlfriend, though he knew Mal and Julia already suspected something was going on. Six weeks until...what? Well, he had six weeks to figure that out.
He watched the news without really watching until the sound of a key turning in the lock interrupted his thoughts and he stood to greet Grace at the door.
She smiled when she saw him, her entire body seeming to lift toward him. After she changed out of her heels and slipped off her suit jacket, she met him in the living room, where he had a glass of wine already poured.
“Lilies.” Grace’s entire face lit up when she saw them sitting above her fireplace. “You shouldn’t spoil me.”
“Who else am I going to spoil?” He accepted her kiss as his due. Pointed to his lips again when he thought it didn’t last quite long enough.
“They’re gorgeous.” She accepted the glass of wine, when Owen finally let go of her, and walked over to admire them.
Owen admired the way her body moved in her suit. Unlike some women, who looked boxy and awkward, Grace looked even more womanly. Her jackets nipped in at the waist, her pants draped and her skirts narrowed to a point just above her knee.
“Very holiday friendly. I should consider this look for the office in December.” She glanced back at him. “What do you think?”
“I like it.” But he was looking at her butt.
She swiveled. “I’m not the holiday decoration.”
“You could be.” He strode forward and scooped her against him. “We could cover you in tinsel and lights. I’d supervise to make sure we got the look just right.”
“And would I be wearing anything under this look?”
“I think we’d have to try both ways. In your sexy underwear and out of it. For research purposes, you understand.”
“Of course. We’d have to be thorough.”
“Very thorough.” He ran a finger along the neck of her shirt. “We should probably start now. December is almost upon us.” He flicked open the buttons on her suit jacket and worked it off her shoulders. “And the holidays are always so busy.”
* * *
GRACE LOOKED AT the gorgeous pine tree she and Owen had set up last night. It wasn’t real, but she faked it by spraying pine scent. Her building didn’t allow actual trees, deeming them a fire hazard, but she made do.
She’d brought her ornaments and other holiday decorations up from storage last night, also with Owen’s help, but she hadn’t started decorating. Usually, she didn’t bring up any boxes until the last minute as she disliked the messy clutter in her living room. But Owen had left early for work and somehow it had felt wrong starting without him.
Grace had tried to tell herself that this was both foolish and dangerous. She and Owen hadn’t talked about their future, not really. She told herself that she didn’t actually know what he thought, but she feared she was only lying to herself. Yes, he’d asked her to have dinner in public with him, but he hadn’t even done that lately, seemingly content to live their relationship in the confines of her apartment.
Which meant... Well, she knew what it meant. That he wasn’t thinking about a long-term future, not seriously, and she didn’t need to ask him, to see him stutter over the words, to know, which was why she hadn’t.
She’d made real hot chocolate tonight, melting Callebaut wafers in a pot and adding full-fat milk as a treat, but even that hadn’t been enough to get her stringing, trimming and hanging. Instead, she’d sat on the couch, sipping her hot chocolate and watching the fireplace. She wanted more than what she had with Owen. She deserved more.
She should just tell him. Explain that since this wasn’t going anywhere, they should just end it. And she would. Once the wedding was over. Maybe it was weak or callow, but she thought the event would go more smoothly if she and Owen maintained their status quo. And there was also her burgeoning friendship with Mal to consider.
Grace didn’t think Mal would turn her back because things with Owen didn’t work out, but she wouldn’t know definitively until they were no longer together. Losing both of them in one fell swoop and still having to see them at the wedding, now only four weeks away, bearing down on them at full speed? Well, Grace didn’t know if she had the emotional strength to handle that.
So instead, she sipped her hot chocolate and thought about her tree and the dinner she’d picked up from La Petite Bouchée warming in the oven. She knew the coq au vin blanc was Owen’s favorite. Her stomach flipped. Going out of her way to pick up special meals and including him in her holiday traditions probably wasn’t the best way to act as their relationship’s end date neared, and yet she couldn’t bring herself not to. It was insanity and guaranteed to hurt, but there was still a small bloom of hope, one that blossomed with his smile or the look in his eyes when she was talking, that made her wonder if maybe, just maybe, they could have something more.
Grace had finished her hot chocolate, probably ruining her dinner in the process, and was busy arranging the boxes for decorating when she heard Owen’s key in the lock.
“Hi, honey, I’m home.”
Her pulse leaped even as she told herself not to let it. This wasn’t his home and he was only kidding. Even if he wasn’t, it couldn’t work. She’d written down all the reasons only last week in an attempt to control the yearning of her heart. Just because her heart refused to listen to reason and logic didn’t mean she shouldn’t.
She went to meet him in the hall, where he was hanging his coat in the closet. A bottle of wine dangled from his fingers and his eyes lit up when he saw her. She felt her pulse jump again. “Mr. Ford.”
“You know that makes me think you’re talking to my dad.” He gathered her in his arms, the cold bottle of wine he held pressing into her back.
“Maybe that’s why I do it.” He smelled so good. Smoky clover and cold air. She inhaled, burying her face in his neck.
“Oh, yeah? You have a crush on my dad? Am I going to have to challenge him to a duel for your hand?” His arms tightened around her.
Grace shoved down the pleasure that Owen might want her hand. All she had to do was listen to his tone to know he was joking. He was always joking. “Maybe later. I’ve got plans for you tonight.”
“I do love a woman with a plan.” He nipped the side of her neck.
Grace reminded herself that this was all part of the Owen Show. The lighthearted, nonserious, short-term show that she’d allowed herself to become part of. But she didn’t have to stay there.
The meal was a hit, as were the wine and conversation. Grace almost forgot about the approaching deadline for their relationship. Owen did the dishes while Grace made more hot chocolate and they both returned to the living room to start on decorating the tree.
“Speaking of Christmas.” Owen looped lights over and through the branches. “Are you going home?”
Grace stilled the thump of her heart with a sharp breath. He was only making conversation. “Not this year.” She pulled out another string of lights and handed them to him. She’d determined years earlier that the perfect number of lights was about one hundred per foot of tree. Or that’s what the internet had told her and she’d liked the way it looked. “Don’t drape the strings too far apart—crowd them together to fill the space.” Because it was safer to think about lights than the unspoken feelings inside of her.
“Aye, aye, captain.” Owen accepted the ligh
ts and plugged them into the string he was holding. “If you’re not going away,” he said, shooting her a cheerful smile over his shoulder, “you’re welcome to come to my house.”
Grace held her breath. Go with Owen to his family’s house for Christmas. She didn’t dare to breathe. It was a step. A big one. “You mean like...”
“Strictly as friends and no one will think there’s anything odd. We always invite friends and staff who don’t have family in the area to join us.”
And even though Grace had been the one to push for secrecy, to keep their relationship hidden, she felt disappointed that he was content to invite her as a friend and not even a special one because apparently anyone and everyone was welcome at the Fords’ over the holidays. “I have to work,” she said, which also happened to be the truth.
She had a Christmas Eve wedding this year as well and Julia and Donovan’s on New Year’s Day. With so many vendors and suppliers taking time off over the holidays, she had to make sure she was organized. She couldn’t afford to lose any time, not even for the holidays.
“But not on Christmas Day.” Owen reached for the next set of lights as he worked his way up the tree.
“I probably will.” She shrugged and tried not to think about how sad that was. She’d worked over Christmas last year, too, but it hadn’t bothered her then.
“So come have dinner with my family.”
As friends. As much as Grace tried to tell herself that she was okay with this, with all of this, it was clear from the shaking of her hands that she wasn’t. “I appreciate the invite, but I wouldn’t want to intrude.” She paused, waiting for him to tell her that she wouldn’t be intruding, that he wanted her there.
Instead, he continued stringing lights. “Well, if you change your mind...”
But Grace knew she wouldn’t.
One More Night Page 17