My Little Gypsy (Bishop Family Book 5)

by Brooke St. James

  He went inside to talk to my parents, and I walked to my house, feeling flustered and overwhelmed about being late for dinner. I knew Owen was planning on taking me somewhere, and I hated the thought of leaving him hanging. I couldn't wait to see him, and I felt agitated about being on a wild goose chase for the last three hours.

  I quickly went inside and freshened up, checking myself in the mirror, and wishing I had more time to do something with my hair and makeup. I put on a little powder and lip-gloss and decided that would have to be good enough. I tried to call Owen again, but I got no answer.

  He only lived about ten minutes from my house, so I threw my phone in my purse and jogged to my car. I had just seen him the night before, but I had been apart from him all day, and it might as well have been a year. I absolutely couldn’t wait to be near him again. I had bought Henry a treat when I was at the grocery store that morning, and I was anxious to give that to him as well.

  I got in my car and started the engine—only the engine wouldn't start. I tried again and again, but it wouldn't even turn over. It was a brand new car and I had never had problems with it before, so I couldn't understand what was going on. I began to sweat. I was so anxious to get to Owen, and I hated that stupid things like this kept happening. I tried again and again to start it, but it was no use.

  I felt desperate and so incredibly frustrated. I knew nothing about cars. I dug in my purse, found my phone, and called Owen again.

  "Please pick up, please pick up," I whispered as the phone rang.

  "Hello," he said on the other end.

  A feeling of relief washed over me when I heard his voice.

  "Hey," I said. "I've been trying to call you."

  "I'm sorry."

  "Are you okay?"

  "Yeah, I'm fine. Are you?"

  "Yeah, but I'm stuck at my house. My car won't start."

  Owen let out a sigh. It was exaggerated enough that I could hear it over the phone.

  "You sure you're okay?" I asked.

  "Yeah."

  "Do you think there's any way you could come pick me up?" I asked.

  "At your house?" he asked.

  "Yeah," I said. "I hate to ask, but I have no idea what's wrong with my car. It won't even make a sound when I try to start it."

  "I have to be at work early in the morning, anyway," Owen said.

  He was letting me off the hook from going to dinner, and an instant wave of nausea hit me. My stomach clenched, forcing me to hunch over and rest my head on the steering wheel as I held the phone to my ear. It broke my heart to think that he wasn't as excited to see me as I was to see him. There was absolutely no way I would let something so insignificant as having to be at work early stop me from going to his house. I felt like I wanted to cry.

  "So you just don't want to see me tonight?" I asked, barely getting the words out.

  "I do, I just, I thought since you were already held up you might want to see about getting your car fixed. Your dad probably knows what's wrong with it."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  Owen was quiet for the next few seconds. He took a breath like he was just about to say something but then hesitated and was quiet again.

  "You know what? Never mind," he said finally. "Get your stuff together. I'll be there in ten minutes."

  I smiled. "Thank you," I said.

  It was exactly ten minutes later when I saw Owen pull into my driveway. I had expected him to be driving his truck, so it was a surprise when he arrived riding his motorcycle. It was nearly sunset, so he had the headlight on, and I grinned uncontrollably as I watched him approach.

  I had seen Owen Bishop riding a motorcycle before, but not since I had been back, and I still marveled at what a man he was. It was a vintage looking bike—black and chrome. It was a larger model with exaggerated handlebars—not the super big ones that caused him to hold his arms way up in the air, but a little exaggerated. I should've known he would look perfect on it because he could build it any way he wanted. The closer he came to me, the more I smiled.

  Finally, he pulled right up next to my car and waved me over. He didn't even bother cutting the engine. I ran over instantly, smiling at him and putting a kiss on his cheek because I couldn't resist. I put my hand on his forearm for balance as I leaned in to kiss him, and a shocking sensation went through my hand as a result of touching him.

  "I didn't know you were picking me up on this," I said, speaking loudly over the sound of the engine.

  "Me neither," he said, smiling. "Get on."

  I strapped my purse over my head and one shoulder and adjusted it before coming to stand behind Owen tentatively. He warned me about touching certain parts of the bike and told me my only job was to hold on to him tightly. I did as he said, squeezing him around the waist and feeling like there was nowhere else in the world I would rather be.

  He was thick and muscular around his core, and all he had on was a T-shirt, so I could feel every little intention of his midsection as my arms pressed against him. Owen carefully turned around and headed out of my driveway, but instead of continuing up the road like I thought he would do, he turned into my parents' driveway. He drove all the way up to the front and parked on the path near the door. He killed the engine and put down the kickstand, stepping off of the motorcycle and helping me off in the process. He smiled at me and reached out for my hand as we headed for the door.

  "What are we doing?" I asked even though I didn't care. All I cared about was that I was next to him. I'd been missing him all day. I stared up at him as we walked, holding onto his arm and waiting to hear if he'd answer my question about why we came to my parents'. I didn't see my father standing in the open doorway until he cleared his throat.

  "What's this?" my dad said, regarding us with a serious expression.

  We were only a few steps from the door when Owen stopped, standing in front of my dad. "We just wanted to come by and tell you something was wrong with Darcy's car," Owen said. He paused and pointed at the motorcycle. "We have a ride, so it's no big deal, but I thought we'd come over here and let you know something was wrong with her car. She can't seem to get it started. I'm sure it's an easy fix and you'll be able to take care of it, but I can take a look at it tomorrow if you can't figure it out."

  My dad stood there and looked at us with a serious but unreadable expression.

  "It wouldn't even make a sound when I tried to start it," I said.

  "Who's this?" my dad asked, gesturing at Owen but looking at me.

  "Owen," I said. "Remember? We went to high school together. I told you I've been talking to him."

  "I don't want you on that thing," my dad said referring to the motorcycle. "They're dangerous."

  "Oh, yes sir, I know they are," Owen said nodding casually as he began pulling me to the bike. "I have the utmost respect for them, and I'm extremely careful. I promise I won't let Darcy get hurt."

  Chapter 14

  Owen

  It had been over a month since Stephen Meyers threatened Owen, but Owen made the conscious choice to go on with his life like it had never happened. He continued seeing Darcy, introducing her to his family and spending time with her every chance he got. He remembered what Mr. Meyers said about the consequences not coming tomorrow or the next day, but it had been weeks and weeks, and still nothing had come of his threats.

  He couldn't imagine his life without Darcy. It was like he couldn’t even recall a time when she wasn't his girl. Being with Darcy was natural for Owen, and he couldn't be happier with his choice to ignore the warnings of her family and his own.

  He was thinking about her as he walked into his house. It had been almost a week since he'd seen her, and he couldn't wait until later that evening when she came over. He had just come back from London. He went with Daniel and Daniel's girlfriend, Courtney, and they had been gone for the last five days.

  It was a spur of the moment trip. Daniel and Courtney decided to go to England on a whim, and they bought tickets for both Owen and
Ivy so that the siblings could reunite with their brother, Wes, who was in college there. Daniel and Courtney ended up staying ten days, but Owen and Ivy flew back together and had just gotten back to Memphis.

  Owen thought he would leave Henry at his parents' house, but Darcy asked if she could keep him. He would reunite with both of them later that evening, and he smiled as he opened the door wishing they were there now, and imagining a time when they would share a house and he would come home to Darcy.

  His house was dark and quiet. It was mid-afternoon, but the shades were drawn, and Owen came inside, taking off his sunglasses and squinting into the living room as his eyes adjusted. There was a man in black sitting in his recliner, and Owen's heart jumped, but he stayed outwardly calm, setting his bags down at his feet.

  The man was someone Owen didn't recognize. He was sitting casually in the recliner, and he had a pistol it is hand, which was resting on the armrest.

  "Is there a reason you're in my house?" Owen asked.

  "Mr. Meyers said you'd know what this is about," the man said.

  Owen took a deep breath, feeling a bit like he was looking death straight in the eyes. He tossed his keys onto the nearby catchall. He glanced to the side just a little when he went to do it, and he noticed out of the corner of his eye that there was a second man who had been hidden behind him. It was too late by the time Owen saw him. Before he had time to react, everything turned black.

  ***

  Owen was in the same spot near his front door when he came to his senses a little while later. His head was throbbing, and it took a little while for him to regain his full vision and remember what had happened and what was going on. He touched the top of his head and realized there was a huge bump where he had been hit. It was painful, and he winced before looking at his hand. Indeed, there was blood, and he looked around where he was sitting to make sure it wasn't a dangerous amount.

  His neighbor across the street was a nurse, and she was the first person that came to his mind. He had her phone number programed into his phone, and he started to call her, but he decided it would be better to get up and make sure the house was secure first.

  Owen had more trouble getting to his feet than he anticipated. He was dazed and his head was pounding. There was nobody in the house, but the men had left a note on the coffee table.

  Enjoyed the visit.

  Next time, we'll stay longer.

  That was all it said.

  Owen stared at it, turning it over to make sure he hadn't missed anything. He read it three or four times before deciding to toss it in the trash.

  He considered getting the police involved, but he knew that would only bring pain to Darcy, so he made the decision to get rid of the note. He knew he would have to take measures to protect himself in the future, but he really couldn't think about that right now because he was still dazed and confused from the blow.

  He called his neighbor and was relieved when she picked up her phone. Her name was Tessa. She was a nurse and single mother. Since Owen had moved into the house, he had helped her with a few household chores she couldn't handle on her own, so she came running when he called.

  Tessa told Owen he needed stitches and should go to a clinic, but he said he would prefer to take care of it at home if possible, and she reluctantly agreed. She was an ER nurse with several years experience, so she had definitely seen worse, but she hated to see Owen with a head injury—especially one he wouldn't explain. When she asked, Owen vaguely stated that 'he hit his head', but Tessa knew this wasn't a type of injury someone would self-inflict.

  Wanting to do her best work, Tessa went to the hospital to get some supplies. First, she had to drop her little boy off at her mother's house, but she went as quickly as possible, and within a half-hour, she was back at Owen's house.

  She had to shave a little spot near the wound to see what she was doing, and she explained everything step-by-step as she went along. In no time, Tessa had completed the procedure. She gave Owen a long speech about taking care of it and watching out for certain warning signs that meant he needed to get to the hospital immediately.

  They were standing in the kitchen when Darcy came over with Henry. Darcy knocked on the front door, and Owen knew who it was, so he yelled for her to come in. His head throbbed when he yelled, and he made a mental note to keep his voice down until he felt better.

  Henry came bounding into the house before Darcy. He was so excited that it only took him about two seconds to cross the living room and kitchen and make it to Owen. He was going back and forth from Owen to Tessa, sniffing everything like crazy and wiggling around.

  Tessa and Owen had already stooped down to give Henry love before Darcy made her way inside. "Hey!" Darcy said to Owen. "Hey," she said to Tessa in a surprised but still friendly tone when she noticed the other woman. Darcy had met Tessa before, but it was obvious by her confused expression that she had no idea why she would be standing in Owen's living room. Tessa was a sweet, attractive woman in her late twenties, and Owen picked up on Darcy's concern immediately.

  "I hit my head, and Tessa came over to help me out," Owen said.

  "Yeah, he hit his head," Tessa said. She seemed to be in agreement with Owen, based on the words she was saying, but she delivered them with some skepticism that made Darcy tilt her head at Owen.

  "What happened?" Darcy asked.

  "Nothing," Owen said. "I'm fine. I just had to get a couple of stitches. Tessa came over and helped me out."

  He gave Darcy a reassuring smile and stepped forward to greet her. He could tell she was taken aback by the whole situation, but he missed her so much that he couldn't resist kissing her cheek. She leaned into him, thankful for the greeting but wearing a worried expression as if she was concerned with his wellbeing. She accepted his kiss, but peered upward, trying to get a look at his head. Tessa saw that they were trying to greet each other, so she busied herself with Henry, cooing at him and rubbing him behind the ears.

  "You hit your head since you got home from the airport?" Darcy asked. "What happened?" She was speaking quietly and looking directly at Owen.

  "I just hit it, that's all," Owen assured her. "It happened right when I came home, so I called Tessa over here to help me out. I'm glad she was home."

  Darcy was worried about him; Owen could see that by the look on her face. She stood on her tiptoes leaning upward and trying to see the top of his head. Owen leaned over and let her get a look at it.

  She gasped when she saw it. "Oh my gosh, that's bad, Owen. What happened?"

  "Well, I guess I'll go since she's here to keep an eye on you," Tessa said, standing up. She smiled at Owen. "Don't hesitate to call if you need anything," she added.

  "I won't," Owen said. "Thank you so much. I know I owe you for doing this."

  "Don't be silly," she said. "After all you've done for me and Silas… you don't owe me a thing."

  "I really appreciate it," Owen said.

  She smiled and waved at him and Darcy before letting herself out.

  "Hi," Owen said, grinning at Darcy once Tessa closed the door.

  "What happened, Owen?" Darcy whispered, staring at him like she was truly upset. "You're bleeding." She reached up and touched the side of his neck and the collar of his shirt. "How'd you do this?"

  Owen gave her a reassuring smile has he reached out to take her by the waist. He leaned against the kitchen counter, pulling her close to him and feeling like all was right with the world now that she was next to him.

  "I missed you so much," he said.

  "I missed you too, but you're not answering my question." Her apprehension showed as she stared up at him. Henry was still sniffing around at top speed, but neither of them paid attention to him. Darcy held Owen around his waist, hugging him securely and letting her face rest on his chest. "What happened?" she repeated without looking at him.

  "I told you," he said. "I just hit my head on the cabinet. It looks worse than it is."

  Owen really hated lying to her,
but he knew that if he didn't add that detail about the cabinet, she would continue questioning him, and he just couldn't let that happen. Stephen Meyers might be a terrible person, but he truly loved his daughter and she truly loved him. Owen had gotten to know Darcy well enough during the last weeks to know these facts to be true, and he just couldn't bring himself to destroy her opinion of her dad—not when he was the only family she had. Owen knew if it came to it, and the truth had to come out, Darcy would pick him over her dad, but he loved her too much to put her in that position any sooner than necessary.

  "How'd you do it?" she asked, pulling back to look up at him. "Did you just stand up and hit your head on the corner of it or something?"

  "Yeah," Owen said nodding.

  "I'm so sorry," she said.

  She scanned his face and then grimaced at the blood on his neck and collar before making eye contact with him again. Owen was so relieved to have her in his arms. It was the longest they had been apart since they started seeing each other. It had only been a few days, but it felt like an eternity. He had fun in England and was happy that he got to see his brother, but he missed Darcy every second he was away. She was his delicate desert flower—his beautiful gypsy—and he stared at her, knowing she was worth whatever he had to put up with from her dad.

  "What are you thinking about?" she asked, smiling shyly at him.

  "You."

  "Did you miss me?" she asked wiggling gently in his arms.

  "Something terrible," Owen said.

  "Good," she said. "I'm glad you had fun with your brother, but I don't think I ever want you to go to England again… unless I'm with you."

  "Why, because you missed me?" Owen asked.

  Darcy didn't answer—she didn't have to. She made her answer obvious. She buried her face in his chest and held onto him, hugging him tightly and breathing a long sigh of relief.