“I hope you don’t mind me asking . . .”
Lindsey shifted from foot to foot when he dropped off her bag in the guest room. He was pretty sure he was going to mind her questions very much.
“What do your parents really charge to rent that place? It’s way too nice to charge what they do. They could easily get three times that amount, I’m sure.”
“They don’t get anything for it most summers,” he said, “because they’re fair enough to give students a nine-month lease instead of charging them for a full year. So they’re actually making extra money off you.”
She rolled her eyes. “What a bunch of crooks.”
“New shirt?” Owen asked, nodding at her soft blue tunic. It made her enlarged belly very noticeable.
“And pants. I kept all the receipts so I can pay you back.”
That again. “Look, Lindsey, you don’t have to pay me back for anything. It’s a gift.”
“I don’t feel comfortable accepting gifts from people I hardly know.”
“Would you feel comfortable if we were married and having a baby together?”
She released a soft gasp, and Owen mentally kicked himself for putting that image in her head.
“Go ahead and keep your receipts if it makes you feel better,” he said.
She nodded, still looking at him like he was her personal savior.
“Whoever fathered the kid will pay me back.”
“I’ll pay you back,” she insisted.
Damn, the woman was stubborn, but then maybe he was making her feel incapable of paying her own debts.
“Don’t forget to ask that doctor to do one of those early DNA tests.” There. Now she wouldn’t think he was such a nice guy.
“You expect me to ask for a paternity test in front of your mother?”
“She won’t be there through the entire appointment.” As soon as he said it, he knew he was wrong. His mom would totally be there for the entire appointment. She’d probably take notes and write dates on her calendar in whatever color she chose to represent Lindsey’s schedule—Owen’s was orange, Chad’s was red, Dad’s was blue, and Mom’s was purple. She’d even kept track of Kelly’s high school schedule in green. Owen supposed Lindsey’s schedule would be written in pink.
With a heavy sigh—he’d done this to himself by trying to pawn off his responsibility for Lindsey on his mom—he dropped his bag in his room and checked his phone. Nothing from Caitlyn. Nothing from Kelly.
“Have you eaten?” Lindsey asked. “I can make you something.”
“You already made me cookies.”
“Why are you home early?” she asked in a rush, as if she’d lose the courage to ask if she spoke at a normal pace.
He glanced up from his phone and found it too dark to read her expression in the dim pink-tinged light filtering in through the windows. That light reminded him that he was supposed to be picnicking on the beach with Caitlyn right now. He was supposed to be making love to her in his Jeep while they watched the sun set over the Gulf.
“Something came up,” he said vaguely. “I’m really tired. I think I’ll go to bed early.”
“It’s not even nine o’clock,” she said.
“Make yourself at home.” He closed his bedroom door.
“What time do we need to be at the airstrip in the morning?” she called through the door.
“Not until noon.” Which meant he’d have to spend even more time in her company. He felt like a prisoner in his own house.
“Okay. Good night.”
He waited until he heard her move away from the door before he flopped back on his bed and rubbed his face with both hands. He checked his phone again, in case he’d somehow missed a message or call, and after staring at the darkening ceiling for several long minutes, he chanced texting Kelly. Maybe he wasn’t having the time of his life with Dawn. Maybe he was as miserable as Owen felt at the moment.
Caitlyn says she needs time to find herself and wanted me to leave. What exactly does that mean?
He was surprised when Kelly responded almost immediately.
It means she’s too nice to dump you outright.
So it’s over? If that was the case, he should have just stayed for the sex. At least that was something. This waiting for her to figure shit out was nothing.
Sounds like it. Sorry.
Fuck. How’s Dawn?
Amazing. I gotta go.
Owen knew he should be happy for Kelly, but Owen was miserable and alone. He’d very much like some company in that feeling, though he doubted anyone was half as miserable as he was. Well, with the exception of Lindsey. Her life was even shittier than his. Lying across his bed, staring at the ceiling wasn’t making him feel even slightly better, but he knew something that would take his mind off his troubles for a couple of hours.
He pulled himself to his feet and opened his bedroom door. He could see Lindsey in her room, unpacking her overnight bag and tucking her belongings into the dresser he kept empty for visitors.
“You want to go out?” he asked.
She sucked in a startled breath and spun in his direction.
“To a movie,” he added.
“Like on a date?”
There he went giving her the wrong idea again. “Friend outing.”
“I can’t affor—”
“Yes, a date. And where I’m from, the guy pays and the gal doesn’t make him feel like an ass about it.” Anything to get her off her running-a-tab mantra.
Her pretty blue eyes brightened with her smile. “I’d love to go to the movies with you. Just let me pee first.”
They were halfway to the movie theater when he asked, “When a woman asks you to wait for her while she finds herself, does that mean she’s dumped you?”
“Did Caitlyn dump you?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you.”
“She’s an idiot. Doesn’t she realize how great you are? You’re perfect, and she doesn’t deserve you.”
“I think she does realize how great I am.” He smirked and tried to find a good parking spot so Lindsey didn’t have too far to waddle. “Her ex-husband showed up, and they got into a huge fight.”
“That’s not good. If they’re still passionate enough about each other to fight, they still mean something to each other.”
Owen hadn’t thought about it that way. “She said she doesn’t want to get back together with him.”
“But she doesn’t want you either.”
“I’m not sure.” He pulled into a parking spot and shut off the engine. “Should I call her?”
“You’ll seem desperate.”
He nodded at her wisdom. “So I’ll just obsessively check my cell all night.”
Lindsey laughed. “The modern version of waiting by the phone.”
“Yep. Except now you can go out to a movie while you wait.”
They chose a slapstick comedy, which was good. They both needed a laugh. In the concession line, Lindsey had insisted she didn’t want popcorn, but her hand kept dipping into Owen’s giant tub of buttery kernels the entire movie. At least she’d let him buy her a Sprite without mentioning she owed him. Sharing a straw would have been far more intimate than he was willing to go.
As they were leaving after the show, an older woman smiled at them and said, “Such a lovely young couple. When is your baby due?”
Lindsey glanced sidelong at Owen, her mouth opening and closing as she struggled to answer.
Owen smiled at the curious woman, placed a hand on Lindsey’s distended belly, and said, “Mid-September.”
The woman giggled. “I know what someone was doing around Christmas time last year.”
Uh, probably not exactly what they’d been doing, but an exchange of genetic material had been involved.
“Congratulations,” the woman said. “Any baby of yours will be a blue-eyed little cutie pie.”
“Thanks,” Owen said.
The woman patted Lindsey’s belly without permission before
she wandered off through the theater lobby.
“Thanks for handling that,” Lindsey said to Owen. “I never know what to say.”
“When you’re with me, we’ll just let everyone assume the baby is mine. It will make situations like those a lot less awkward.”
Lindsey turned toward the exit. He was pretty sure she muttered something like, “That woman is a fucking idiot,” as she waddled off. Maybe Lindsey was referring to the nosy stranger, but he figured she was actually referring to Caitlyn. Which reminded him to turn on his phone.
She still hadn’t contacted him.
Just how many hours did it take a woman to find herself, anyway?
Chapter Fifteen
Caitlyn paced back and forth as she spoke to Jenna on the phone. Thank God she had someone to talk to about what she’d done. She’d been flipping out by herself for a couple hours by the time she thought to call her best friend. In Caitlyn’s jumbled head, Owen was already out with some other woman, and she’d been forgotten. “I should call him, right? Reassure him that we’re not over.”
“When did you suggest he leave?”
Caitlyn checked the digital clock on her oven. “A few hours ago.”
“He’s going to think you’re indecisive if you call him this soon.”
“I am indecisive,” Caitlyn said. “I thought I wanted time to find myself, and yet within ten minutes of him walking out the door, I’d already decided that I’m an idiot. I can figure myself out some other time. Not now. Now is not the time to find myself. Tomorrow would have made more sense.”
“This is like Charles all over again,” Jenna said in her voice of reason. Caitlyn hadn’t listened to it in college, so what made Jenna think she’d listen to it now?
“He’s nothing like Charles,” Caitlyn said. “Owen is kind and considerate. He’s always lifting people up instead of bringing them down. He’s cool and funny and ridiculously attractive.”
“And great in bed.”
“Yeah, whatever,” she said, though his sexual expertise was an undeniable fact. “That’s not what I miss about him. I miss his smile and his laugh. The way he says my name.”
“Oh my God, Caitlyn.” Jenna’s voice burst through Caitlyn’s daydreams of Owen. “You’re in love with him.” It was an accusation, one that made Caitlyn’s breath catch. “How could you let this happen? You just got divorced.”
“I know. That’s what I’ve been telling myself all weekend. I shouldn’t let myself have feelings for him yet; it’s too soon. I know it’s too soon.” And yet she definitely felt something for Owen. A lot of something. And it wasn’t just lust.
“At least you have a bit of sense. It was smart of you to put on the brakes when you did.”
“I don’t feel smart, I feel lonely.” She traced the edge of the kitchen counter with one fingertip, staring down at the swirled marble surface but not really seeing it. “What if he forgets about me?”
“He won’t; how could he? You’re fabulous. And if he cares about you, he’ll wait a little while. You don’t need to see him again right away.”
“Even if I don’t see him, I should call him, right? Let him know I’m still interested.” Like she had when Lindsey had shown up and Caitlyn had run from him. She hadn’t lasted fifteen minutes before she’d called to make amends. Did that make her a pathetic loser? “I just need an hour or two to figure myself out, decide what I want to do with my life.”
Jenna laughed. “An hour or two? I’ve been trying to figure myself out for thirty-two years, and it still hasn’t happened. I have no idea what I want to do with my life.”
“I’m afraid if I don’t call him, he’ll think I dumped him. I don’t want him to think I dumped him. I didn’t mean to dump him.”
“Is he really going to go off and date some other woman right away? He won’t do that if you mean anything to him. He’s probably as torn up about this as you are.”
Or more so. And she knew enough about him to realize he healed his ego with women and his heart with food. She didn’t know which she’d damaged more—his pride or his sentimentality.
“He definitely has his choice of women,” Caitlyn said. “And he loves going to sex clubs.” The collection of her kitchen-fantasy implements still resting on the kitchen island caught her attention. Had it really been only yesterday that he’d taken her over that stool and spanked her while he fucked her?
“Caitlyn? You still there?”
“Yeah.”
“Promise you’ll listen to my advice.”
“I’m listening.”
“You have to wait at least forty-eight hours before you call him.”
Caitlyn cringed. “What? No, I can’t wait that long.” Why had she sent him away in the first place? She could have waited and sorted herself out while he was on tour. Granted, the man was an expert at mixing her emotions and lust into a frenzied slurry, but she wouldn’t have spontaneously combusted in the twelve hours they had remaining together that weekend. “How about two more hours.”
“Two days, Caitlyn, not two hours. Why did you send him away if you’re only going to beg him to come back?”
“I don’t know—that’s why I called you. You’re supposed to help me figure this mess out.”
Jenna sighed. “I’m trying, but you aren’t listening. Take a deep breath.”
Caitlyn gulped air and leaned against the kitchen sink, gazing out the window. She stared at the glass roof of the gazebo, her thoughts instantly replaying making love with Owen beneath the stars. That was when she’d started to care about him. She’d been brimming with emotions the entire time and had woken the next morning still feeling tenderness for him. Wasn’t the morning after supposed to be awkward? Wasn’t she supposed to have come to her senses after a good night’s sleep rather than losing them altogether?
“Repeat after me,” Jenna said. “I, Caitlyn Marie Mattock.”
“Hanson,” Caitlyn corrected. She’d decided to go back to her maiden name in the divorce.
“Even better. Say it.”
“I, Caitlyn Marie Hanson.”
“Do solemnly swear.”
Caitlyn repeated the words.
“Not to call Owen for forty-eight hours.”
“Not to call Owen for . . .” Caitlyn hesitated.
“Caitlyn?”
“Twenty-four hours,” she said. “That’s more than long enough.”
Jenna released another sigh, but apparently decided not to press the issue. “Okay, now set an alarm on your phone and under no circumstances are you to call him until it goes off.”
Caitlyn figured that for the next day she’d be staring at her phone alarm like it was the countdown on a doomsday device. “Okay.”
“Stop thinking about him,” Jenna said, and Caitlyn snorted. “And use this time to think about what you want. You don’t have to give up everything to be with him.”
“I wasn’t planning on giving up everything.”
“But you were considering it.”
Her friend knew her too well. Caitlyn couldn’t deny she’d been wondering if it was time to retire and sell her house and follow a rock band around the country. And that might make her happy for a little while, yet she needed more in her life than a man to love. But she did want a man to be a part of her life, and that was something she hadn’t anticipated wanting ever again after her marriage had fallen apart.
She chatted with Jenna for a few more minutes, fighting the urge to wax poetic about the time she’d spent with Owen—she really was pathetic when she was newly in love. As soon as they said their goodbyes, she followed Jenna’s advice and set the alarm on her phone. She was glad she had to work the next day. That might keep her mind off Owen for a few hours. But then, there were plenty of memories of him in her office, the elevator, and her car. There would be no escaping him.
The most terrifying part of that realization was that she didn’t want to escape.
Chapter Sixteen
When Owen’s eyes opened the next morni
ng, the first thing he did was reach for his phone. The last time he’d checked it—for the thousandth time—it had been four a.m. It was now six, and Caitlyn still hadn’t called. Still hadn’t texted. It really was over between them. With two hours of sleep under his belt, he tossed on his workout clothes, yanked on his cross-trainers, and rushed to the bathroom. He had a few hours before he had to leave to meet the chartered plane that would take him back to New Orleans. He planned to spend them all at the gym working out his frustration. He also needed to work off all that popcorn and those oatmeal cookies he’d eaten the night before. The bathroom door was closed, and he didn’t think to knock when he barged right in.
Lindsey gasped, one bare foot still in the tub, the other on the floor as she reached for a towel.
“Sorry!” Owen slammed the door.
He’d never seen a pregnant woman naked before. Seeing Lindsey’s body—so lush and full of life—stirred a mix of strange feelings in him. It wasn’t lust—not in the general sense—but longing and wonder and admiration.
“Weird,” he said aloud as he turned from the door. “I’m going to the gym,” he yelled over his shoulder and waited for her muffled okay before he raced down the steps and used the half bathroom downstairs. He grabbed his keys with the gym membership fob and jogged—more like sprinted—the four blocks to the gym.
Working out did relieve his stress, but it gave him a lot of time to think. No matter how hard he tried to concentrate on his form and no matter how many repetitions he counted, he couldn’t stop thinking about Caitlyn. He would call her when he got home, he decided, wiping the sweat from his face with a towel. He should probably respect her wish for space, but what about his wishes? He didn’t want space, he wanted her.
He’d fallen into the same trap before. He’d move too fast, then the woman would ask to slow down and for him to give her space. He’d stubbornly refuse to do either, and she’d wind up pushing him away for good. Maybe Owen was insane for thinking that repeating the same action would get him different results this time, but he had to believe that someone out there was willing to take a chance on someone like him, a guy who could easily center his entire universe around one special person. And he convinced himself while doing hundreds of angry sit-ups that his one special person was Caitlyn.
Thrill Me (One Night with Sole Regret Book 9) Page 16
