The House that Love Built
Page 19
“I can’t.” He shook his head. “I’ll wait out here.”
Owen let go of the door handle and walked back to Hunter. “You’re turning your life around, and facing Brooke is part of the process. Have you ever told her you’re sorry?”
Hunter could feel his bottom lip trembling the way it did when he was a nervous sissy baby. “No, and I ain’t going to now. She’ll throw me out if I get two feet inside that door. Or worse yet, Big Daddy will.” He swallowed hard. “I ain’t going in there.”
Owen paced on the sidewalk, rubbing his chin, then stopped in front of Hunter. “You’ve got to let people see the real person you are. The guy I see has parents who probably aren’t the best, but is really trying to be a good member of society. This is a big step, I know, but it’s important.”
Hunter didn’t know what to do. Owen had been so good to him, and he didn’t want to let him down, but he was afraid he might pass smooth out if he had to face Mrs. Holloway. He hesitated, then slowly nodded. His heart raced as he walked in behind Owen, and he jumped when the bell on the door rang behind them. He kept his head down. Mrs. Holloway hated him, and he wasn’t sure why Owen was making him do this.
“Good morning.” Owen walked up to the counter, and Hunter had no choice but to do the same.
“Good morning.” Mrs. Holloway sounded just like he remembered. He finally looked up at her just as she was putting an arm around her son and pulling him close. Hunter looked down again.
“Did my cabinets come in?” Owen stuck his hands into the pockets of his black slacks. He’d dressed real nice for court today. He even had on a white shirt and a tie.
“They did. Big Daddy can deliver them later this morning if that’s okay.” Mrs. Holloway didn’t seem to want to look at Hunter any more than he wanted to look at her.
“Hey, Spencer.” Owen leaned to his left a little until Mrs. Holloway’s son looked up at him. “Whatcha got there?”
Spencer sighed. “It’s a plane that used to be my dad’s. But it doesn’t fly.”
“What’s wrong with it?” Hunter was surprised at the sound of his own voice, but when Mrs. Holloway pulled her son even closer, Hunter wished he’d stayed quiet. All this wasn’t making him feel better like Owen had said. Only worse.
Spencer jerked away from his mother. “Quit, Mom.” He offered the plane to Hunter. “I don’t know. It’s missing some parts.”
“It looks old.” Hunter studied the wingspan, about two feet, then finally found a date stamped inside. “It says 1963.”
“Think it’ll fly?” Spencer stood up from the stool he was sitting on, even though his mother frowned.
Hunter shrugged as he handed the plane back to Spencer. “Don’t know. Maybe.” He was pretty sure that given some time, he could get it to fly. Wasn’t nothing Hunter hadn’t been able to fix before.
“Hey, Spencer.” Owen leaned closer to Spencer. “Why don’t you go check with Big Daddy about my cabinets. I need to talk to your mom for a minute.” He looked up at Mrs. Holloway. She nodded right away and almost pushed her son toward the back.
Hunter wasn’t sure he’d ever felt more ashamed, and he figured the worst part was coming. He looked at Owen, who just nodded. Hunter forced himself to look at Mrs. Holloway.
“Mrs. Holloway, I’m real sorry for what I did to you. You and Mr. Holloway were always real good to me, and . . .” His lip started to tremble, and it took everything he had not to cry. Why am I such a sissy baby? “Anyway, I’m just real sorry.” He took a deep breath. “Especially ’cause I scared you. I’m real sorry.”
It was hard, but he kept his eyes on hers. Wouldn’t it be something if she could forgive him? He’d never gotten away with the money. Big Daddy had seen to that. And the Holloways hadn’t pressed charges. But still.
She raised her chin a little bit. She didn’t smile or anything. “Thank you, Hunter. I appreciate that.”
Owen reached in his pocket and pulled out his keys. “Hunter, why don’t you go get the car and bring it up to the curb here?”
Hunter’s eyes rounded. “Really?”
Owen smiled and nodded. Hunter figured he wanted to be alone with Mrs. Holloway, but he didn’t care. He was gonna get to drive Owen’s fancy car again. Even if it was just down the street.
Brooke could hardly take her eyes off Owen, all dressed up in his slacks, crisp white shirt, and tie. It took everything she had not to tell him how amazing he looked.
“How are you?” Owen’s forehead wrinkled as he spoke, concern etched in his voice.
“I’m fine. You?”
“I’m okay.” He paused. “Listen, I know that was hard for you, but thanks for letting Hunter apologize. I really don’t think he’s a bad person. Just had a bad upbringing.” He grinned. “Can’t believe he tried to hold you up with a water gun.”
Brooke tipped back the rim of her baseball cap. “Yes, but it was just as scary. And not funny.”
“I know. Sorry. I didn’t mean to make light of it.” Owen sighed. “I’d just like to see Hunter turn his life around.”
Brooke was quiet for a few moments. “You’re a good guy, Owen Saunders.”
He chuckled. “I don’t know about that. But I’d like to at least see Hunter have a fair shake. I don’t think he would have if I hadn’t gone to court with him this morning.” He paused. “And all charges were dropped.”
Brooke couldn’t stop staring at his mouth, and her mind was whirling with random ideas about ways she could spend time with him. But she hadn’t even heard from him since he kissed her on Saturday, and she wasn’t sure what to make of that.
Owen put his palms on the counter and leaned closer to Brooke. “I want to kiss you so badly I can’t stand it. Just like I did last time I was here.” He smiled. “What does that mean, Brooke Holloway?”
She bit her bottom lip as the pit of her stomach started to tingle. “What does it mean?” Kiss me now.
Owen slowly brought his face to hers, and his gaze was as soft as if he were touching her with his eyes. His spicy, intoxicating cologne hung in the space around him as his lips met hers. Brooke savored every second. He eased away, leaned in to kiss her once more, then stood tall again.
“Would you and the kids like to have dinner with me tomorrow night?”
Brooke stared into Owen’s amazing blue eyes and realized that any baggage Owen Saunders might have from his first marriage didn’t matter. She had given her heart to only one man.
Until now.
Twenty
Thursday night at Mexico Lindo Brooke felt warmth flow through her as she watched Owen joking around and playing with her children—even though twice she’d had to tell them all to settle down. Something was happening between her and Owen despite their vow to remain only friends. Even Spencer was having a good time. But Brooke knew her son, and she could tell that he still had his guard up, often glancing back and forth between Brooke and Owen with questioning eyes.
“There is something I’ve been meaning to ask you since I first moved here.” Owen wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Why is that huge gingerbread man on display by the Chamber of Commerce office?”
“That’s Smitty!” Meghan licked vanilla ice cream from her lips.
Brooke picked up Meghan’s napkin and wiped ice cream from her daughter’s face as she spoke. “Back in 2006, the town decided to do something special for our annual Festival of Lights celebration, so we baked this gigantic gingerbread man. We even got into the 2009 Guinness Book of World Records for it. Then the cookie sheet used to bake it was converted into a monument to commemorate the record.” She put the napkin down and took a sip of her coffee. “An IKEA store in Norway broke our world record, but we’re pretty sure we still hold the American record.”
“Good grief.” Owen laughed. “Bet that took some serious flour.”
“He weighed more than thirteen hundred pounds and measured twenty feet from head to toe. We used seven hundred and fifty pounds of flour, forty-nine gallons of molasses, and sev
enty-two dozen eggs.” She pointed a finger at him. “Separated eggs!”
Owen chuckled again. “That’s pretty cool. I would have liked to have seen that.”
“There’s a video. I’ll show it to you sometime.” Brooke took a sip of her coffee. “So, your uncle will be here tomorrow, right?”
“Yeah. I had bedroom furniture delivered for the upstairs bedroom that needs the fewest repairs. And I bought a couch. But the place is still a wreck, especially since Hunter and I just ripped out all the cabinets.” He paused, taking a sip of coffee. “Thanks for having Big Daddy deliver the new ones.”
“You’re welcome. We do that for all our customers.” Brooke grinned, wishing this night could go on forever. She wondered if she would see a lot less of Owen now that his uncle would be living with him.
Owen threatened to steal a bite of Meghan’s ice cream, and they were all laughing and cutting up again when Brooke stopped breathing.
“Oh no.” She brought a hand to her chest. Before she could tell Owen what was happening, both Meghan and Spencer jumped up and hurried to the entrance of the restaurant.
Owen twisted in his chair to watch the children. “What is it? Do you know those people?”
“It’s my mother.” She took a deep breath as she watched Mom hugging Meghan and Spencer. “And my father.” She pulled her eyes away. “Oh, Owen. They’re coming over here. What am I going to do?”
Owen stood up when Brooke’s parents came to the table. He extended his hand to Brooke’s mother. “Hello. I’m Owen Saunders.”
Mom’s eyes lit up as she smiled. “Nice to meet you, Owen. I’m Patsy Miller. And this is Brooke’s father, Harold.”
Brooke cringed as her father and Owen shook hands.
“You’re my grandpa?” Meghan’s eyes grew huge.
Brooke almost felt sorry for her father as he nodded, his face beet-red. But she couldn’t bring herself to acknowledge him. Her mother’s eyes begged her to say something, but she couldn’t do it. She just looked down at her coffee.
“Well then, I guess our table’s ready,” Mom finally said, throwing Brooke a pointed glance. “Owen, it’s wonderful to meet you. And I’ll see you children soon, I promise. I miss you.” Then she and Brooke’s dad made their way to a table across the room.
Brooke forced a smile. “Everyone ready to go?” Owen found her hand and squeezed, and the sweet gesture brought tears to her eyes. Things were so messed up. And was there really a happily ever after? She glanced at her parents and their bizarre situation, then she looked up at Owen, this handsome, caring man who’d recently said he was still in love with his wife and would never trust another woman. She gazed at him as he asked for the bill.
Owen quickly threw down cash, then ushered them all to the car. When they got to Brooke’s house, he asked, “Do you want me to come in?”
“Yes, yes!” Meghan shouted from the backseat. “Come in, Mr. Saunders.”
Brooke waited for Spencer to say something, but he didn’t.
Owen leaned over and into the backseat. “I think it’s time for you guys to call me Owen.” He glanced at Brooke. “If that’s okay with your mom.”
“How about Mr. Owen?” Brooke suggested. She chewed on her lip, wanting him to come in, but wondering if the kids were going to have a lot of questions about their grandparents. Plus, she had a knot in her throat as if she might cry at any moment. There was something very vulnerable about her father that she hadn’t expected. Dark circles lined his eyes, and he was more bent over than she remembered. Despite the anger and hurt, she wondered if maybe she should talk to him.
It was still daylight, and Meghan and Spencer exited the car and ran to the porch. “It’s fine with me if you want to come in for a while.”
Owen wasted no time turning off the car. “Great. I don’t relish the idea of going home to that big empty house.”
Once in the house, they went through the same familiar drill as always. Meghan and Spencer argued about going to bed but finally succumbed. Meghan kissed Owen good night again, and this time Owen responded with a warm hug before she ran upstairs. Brooke fielded a few questions about her dad during tuck-in time but was able to get away with a promise to talk more later. Finally she made it downstairs, feeling she had dodged a bullet. For now. But she still had no earthly idea how she would handle the fact that Meghan and Spencer now knew their grandfather was in town.
She sank down on the couch in relief and unbuckled her sandals, tossing them to the side. “Feel free to do the same,” she said, nodding to Owen’s loafers.
“I love this couch.” He kicked off his shoes and frowned. “I don’t like the couch I bought. It’s too . . . stiff or something.” He leaned back and put an arm around her. “This is possibly the most comfortable couch on the planet.”
Brooke laughed. “I bought it on sale at Milton’s probably ten years ago. It’s just worn in.”
“Good to hear you laugh. I could see how upset you were earlier.” Owen stroked her shoulder—just as if they were a couple.
“That was the last thing I was expecting, for them to walk in. Though I guess I should have—” Then she couldn’t stand it anymore. She twisted to face him. “Owen, what are we doing?”
He smiled. “I knew this was coming.”
“This cuddling, the—the kisses.” She paused. “I thought we both agreed to be friends, but . . .”
He touched her cheek. “I have no idea what we’re doing. But I do know I’m happiest these days when I’m with you. And when I’m not, I—I miss you. So I’m choosing to be with you.” He kissed her lightly on the mouth, and Brooke gave in. She ignored the urge to overanalyze and allowed herself this chance to just feel happy in the moment.
He brushed his lips against the top of her nose, cupped her face in his hands, and pressed his mouth to hers again, transporting Brooke to a place she’d forgotten existed. Owen pulled her closer, and Brooke felt like a teenager making out on her parents’ couch. But this was her couch, and she had two impressionable children upstairs. She pulled back.
“Sorry.” He settled back onto the couch and reached for her hand. “I think I could keep kissing you forever.” He kissed her palm. “I hear what you’re saying. We should probably talk about whatever is going on.” He took a deep breath. “But we’ve both been duly warned. You’re not ready for a relationship. I have trust issues.” He flashed a quick grin, then sobered. “But maybe we can just go with it, tread carefully, and see what happens. I love being here.”
Brooke nodded. She loved having him here. But she couldn’t help but wonder if they each just filled a void for each other, if that’s all it was between them. And did Owen just like being in her home because his was big and lonely? But she did take note that while he mentioned the trust issues, he didn’t say anything about still being in love with his ex-wife.
“I think that sounds good.” Brooke smiled, and Owen put his arm around her again. She laid her head on his shoulder. Could this be my second shot at happiness?
Friday morning Owen and Hunter were installing the new cabinets in the kitchen when there was a knock at the door.
“That would be my uncle.” Owen shoved the cabinet a few inches to the left, then wiped his hands on his overalls. He walked down the hallway, through the living room, and to the entryway. He was eager to see Uncle Denny. But when he swung the door wide, Tallie Goodry stood in front of him with a basket in her hands.
“Tallie.” Owen raised an eyebrow. “Hi.”
“These are for you.” She pushed the basket toward him, smiling. Her streaked platinum hair was pulled up into a twist, and her low-cut white blouse and denim capris showed off a tanned, toned body. In her white spike-heel sandals, she was almost as tall as Owen. “I heard that you hired Hunter Lewis to work for you, and I think that’s so nice of you. I wanted to bring you boys a little snack.”
Owen accepted the gift. “Thanks. Hunter’s a good worker.” He lifted a red-checkered napkin and inspected the contents.
Tallie pointed to the basket. “Homemade kolaches, muffins, and chocolate-chip cookies.”
That was one thing that Virginia didn’t do. Bake. Owen eyed the offering. “Thanks again. I know we’ll enjoy this.” He smiled, hoping he wouldn’t have to invite her in. “I’ll go share these with Hunter.”
“Oh, one more thing.” She held up a finger. “A week from tomorrow I’m having a little get-together for some friends at my home. Very casual, just friends from around Smithville. I’d love for you to come. It would be a great chance to meet everyone.”
Everyone? Did that mean Brooke too? Probably. She and Tallie were friends, weren’t they?
Owen thought for a moment. “I better decline, Tallie. My uncle is due here any minute, and he’ll be staying with me for a while.”
She waved a hand at him. “Bring your uncle, of course! He can meet everyone too. Cocktails and appetizers at seven, then dinner around eight. Can I count on you both?” She batted long lashes, and Owen hesitated. He wasn’t big on parties, especially with Tallie types. But Brooke would be there, so it might be fun.
“Sure. We’ll be there. A week from tomorrow.” Owen slid one foot backward. “Thank you again, Tallie. And we’ll see you next weekend.”
She flashed a blinding set of teeth at him and turned to leave, waving back over her shoulder.
Owen plucked a cream-cheese-filled kolache from the basket and took a big bite. Excellent. “Hunter, look what I’ve got,” he said as he made his way back to the kitchen. He set the basket on the only kitchen counter they had installed so far. “Kolaches, muffins, and cookies.”
Hunter peeked inside and chose a blueberry muffin. “Cool. Who brought this?”