Chapter Twenty

Charlie

Owen’s arm is still around me when I wake up. The first light of dawn is shining through the window. I can tell it’s going to be a sunny day already, vastly different from last night. The power is back on, and the air conditioner is pumping the room full of cool air. The ceiling fan is on above me now too, chilling my skin. I was hot last night and only covered up with a thin quilt. Owen stayed outside the blankets and didn’t cover up at all.

Inhaling deep, I feel Owen’s fingers press against my body. My eyes flutter shut again, and I want nothing more than to roll over and slip my arms around him. How easy it would be to fall back into his arms and ask him to never let me go.

But I can’t, because I know better. Besides, I’m not at a good point in my life to start something new…even when what we had isn’t new at all. Owen’s embrace used to be my favorite place to be. It didn’t matter where we were or what was going on around us. As long as we had each other, everything felt okay.

Carefully twisting so I can see him, I move my hand and my fingers brush over his shoulder. His skin is cold from being under the fan and not having any blankets. He’s just wearing boxers, and his messy hair and innocent face as he sleeps is making me all sorts of conflicted.

I want this.

But I shouldn’t.

It feels good when it should feel wrong.

Being here with Owen makes me feel like the years apart were just a blur and we can go back to the day we broke up and pretend it never happened.

But we can’t.

So much life happened between breaking up and where we are right now. I’ve grown and changed and messed up and made more mistakes than I can count. I’m sure Owen’s tale is no different.

Moving carefully so I don’t wake him, I reach down and pull up the thick comforter I’d discarded at the foot of the bed and pull it up, covering us both up. In his sleep, Owen slips his arm farther around me, spooning his body against mine. My heart leaps into my throat, and for some reason, tears fill my eyes.

Why the hell am I getting emotional?

Is it because Owen was sweet and kind and thoughtful and it’s making me realize how much I miss this? How I’m fairly certain I’ll never find someone else who gets me like he does? Or how he didn’t mind at all that I came over here like a crazy cat lady and set up a litter box in his pretty spotless house?

Nope. Definitely not any of those.

I nestle my head back into the pillow and rest my hand on top of Owen’s. I don’t have to get up for another few hours, and I’m going to enjoy every minute of this. Because I’m not getting into bed with Owen again.

“You awake?” Owen whispers.

I almost say yes but don’t want to ruin the moment. So instead, I respond to his voice by pretending to be asleep and snuggling a little closer. Owen exhales and slides his other arm under me, pulling me close to his chest. He rests his head against my face, lips brushing over the flesh on my cheek.

In the back of my mind, logic and reason are screaming at me. I’m in bed, all snuggled up with Owen. What. The. Hell. Am. I. Doing?

We didn’t have sex. We didn’t even kiss. He came in here to comfort me, not try to get in my pants. I’m all caught up in my emotions right now because I’m still in bed, tired and comfy, not wanting to move. But once I’m up, dressed, and dealing with some of the county’s pressing legal issues, I’ll come to my senses.

But until then…I turn and bring one leg up, hooking it over Owen’s.

Motherfucker. This is bad. Really bad. But holy shit does it feel good.

*

My alarm wakes us both, and I sit up, untangling myself from Owen’s arms to silence it. Groaning, Owen rolls back over and kicks the blankets off his body.

“Do you have to get up already?”

“Yeah, I do.” I run my hands through my messy hair. The sun is up now, and the room is full of bright light. I swallow hard and fight my urge to admire every ridge of muscle and every pound of flesh that makes up Owen’s body. I set my phone down on the nightstand. “Thank you, Owen, for last night.”

“I didn’t even do anything.” He rolls over, propping his head up with his arm. “But if you have a few minutes, I can do something you’ll thank me for.”

I know he can.

“I’ll pass.”

“Your loss.”

Dammit, he’s right.

“Really, though,” I start and get out of bed. I’m wearing a tank top and sleeper shorts. It’s comfy, a little revealing I suppose, and might be sexy if it wasn’t covered in smiling avocados with little stick arms and legs. These might have been marketed for teen girls, but I thought they were way too cute to pass up. “Thanks. For letting me bring Tulip and then for, uh, holding me like a child during the storm.”

Owen smiles. “You’re welcome. And you can leave the cat here. She’s quiet and can’t really get into anything with that cast on. It won’t bother me at all, and she won’t be tormented by the dogs over here.”

“You really don’t mind?”

He shakes his head. “Does she need medication or anything?”

“Yeah, but I’ll give it to her before I leave and then again when I get off work. You sure you don’t mind?”

Owen’s smile widens. “Not at all. And it gives you a reason to come back over, so I see it as a win for me. Now only if it’ll storm again,” he laughs.

Laughing too, I shake my head. “Dinner was nice. Playing a game was nice.”

“Nice enough to do again?”

I should say no. I know I’m weak right now and fighting temptation. An alcoholic shouldn’t go to a bar. A gambler should stay out of a casino.

And I should stay far, far away from Owen Dawson.

“We’ll see,” I tell him and let out a breath as I turn, grabbing my bag and going into the bathroom to shower and get dressed. Forgoing washing my hair, I twist it into a bun on the top of my head and get in the shower.

I wash up quickly and then get out, wrapping myself in the towel. Pausing by the door, I listen to see if Owen is still in the bedroom. I don’t hear anything, but that doesn’t mean he’s not in bed sleeping again. I get dressed, pull my hair into a sleek bun, and put on just enough makeup to look put together.

Owen isn’t in the bed when I step out of the bathroom. The bed has been made, which surprises me for some reason. I set my bag on the foot of the bed and look around for Tulip. The bedroom door is open, and while she can hobble around just fine, I do worry about her on the stairs.

Going into the hall, the smell of coffee and bacon hits me, making my stomach grumble. I find Owen in the kitchen, still only wearing boxers and making breakfast. Tulip is sitting on a folded blanket on the floor by him, eating little crumbled pieces of bacon.

“You still like creamer with a splash of coffee, right?” Owen asks, opening a cabinet to get a coffee mug.

“I need two splashes now. I’m old and need the caffeine.”

Smiling, I take the mug from Owen and go to the coffee pot. “What about you? You used to not even like the taste of coffee before.”

“I still don’t. I guess I’m old too. I need caffeine just as much as you do.”

I fill my mug halfway and then go to the fridge to get the creamer. Owen has caramel-flavored creamer, which will do just fine. I go to the table and sit, sipping my coffee.

“Hungry?” he asks, turning around with a plate filled with toast, eggs, and bacon.

“I usually don’t eat breakfast, but I’m not turning that down.”

“How do you not eat breakfast?” He sets the plate down and goes back to the stove, dishing up his own breakfast. “It’s the most important meal of the day. I’m starving when I wake up.”

“Mornings used to be busy for me. I’d get up, run, and then barely have time to shower and get ready for work. I used to put more effort into my appearance,” I admit. “Appearances meant a lot to the people at my old firm.”

“You always look good.”

“To you.”

“To anyone with eyes.” He sits across from me at the breakfast table. “Why would you want to work somewhere like that? Doesn’t sound like the Charlie I knew.”

My stomach starts to feel a little unsettled, because it’s true. “It was a good job,” I start.

“You mean good-paying job.”

“Well, yeah. I made a lot of money at that firm, even as a new lawyer. But honestly…” I let out a breath and look out through the sliding glass doors that lead to a screened-in back porch. “Honestly I’d take a pay cut and less stress any day.”

“What was stressful? The job or the people you worked with?”

“The people. I loved my job and the thrill of a good case.”

“Did you represent mobsters or something?”

I laugh. “You’ve watched too many cheesy TV shows. I did real estate law, which can be just as cutthroat as anything you see on TV, actually.”

“You won’t be bored here?”

“That’s to be determined, I guess. Though there’s more going on here than you’d expect. There’s no shortage of divorces happening, as you can guess since you’ve seen the infidelity firsthand.”

He laughs. “Very true. For a small town, we have no shortage on the drama either. You’d be surprised at what a few shots of tequila can bring out in some people.”

“I’m not that surprised, actually.”

“So you’re staying here in Eastwood.”

“Yeah,” I say, and relief floods through me as soon as I say the words. I hadn’t decided for sure what I was going to do. “Though I’m not entirely sure how working with my dad for a few years will be.”

Owen chuckles. “I love my family but couldn’t work with them. Though Dean and our dad get along fine, so it’s possible.”

“I’ll have my own office too so it’s not like we’ll be stuck in the same room.”

“That should help.”

“Oh, it will.”

“I bet you look hot sitting behind that big executive desk. At least that’s how I imagine you.” He gives me a smirk and then lets his eyes fall shut. I always thought it was unfair how long and thick his eyelashes were. “I see you now sitting there, with your hair twisted up in a bun. The top buttons on your blouse undone…and that tight skirt. You’re going to see a huge influx of guys needing legal counseling, you know.”

“Owen, stop.”

“Buzzkill.” He opens his eyes and looks at me. “And come on, it’s not like you don’t know how good you look.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.”

“So you admit you know you’re hot.”

 Shaking my head, I pick up a piece of bacon. “Impossible,” I mutter under my breath.

“What’s impossible?”

“You.”

He holds my gaze for a beat, smirking. “You always liked a challenge.”

Dammit, Owen. I do like a challenge. But right now the challenge is resisting you.