Meant for You

by Michelle Major

  “You could be,” Sam said with a wink. “And Owen can be your fairy-tale prince.”

  “Shut. Up.” Jenny looked between Sam and the saleswoman. “Both of you. Before I come over there and—”

  “Okay,” the young woman answered nervously. “I’ll just leave these shoes with you.” She shoved several boxes into Sam’s arms. “Let me know if you need anything.”

  Sam pulled the first set of shoes out of the box. “You have a bad habit of threatening physical violence.”

  Jenny shrugged. “People have a bad habit of pissing me off.”

  “I bet you’ve never even been in a real fight.”

  “Maybe not, but I’m scrappy. I could kick some ass.”

  “You’re all bark and no bite,” Sam said, handing over the strappy heels.

  “I can’t wear those. I’ll fall on my face.”

  “Practice this week,” Sam told her. “You need some badass shoes to go with that dress.” She shimmied her hips. “We’re gonna make Owen want some make-up lovin’.”

  Jenny slipped her feet into the heels and turned to the three-way mirror at the far end of the fitting room. She had to admit they were fantastic. She took a hesitant step forward and her ankle wobbled only a tiny bit. Maybe heels were doable.

  “We would have to have had some lovin’ to start with in order to try the make-up variety,” she answered, continuing to move forward, slightly mesmerized by the woman she saw before her.

  “You’ve never had sex with Owen?” Sam asked, stalking up behind her.

  Jenny cursed as her ankle rolled and she tumbled into the fitting room wall. She pulled off the heels and handed them to Sam.

  Sam continued to stare at her, clearly waiting for an answer. “You dated for like three months.”

  “We were just friends for most of that time before it turned romantic,” Jenny said, embarrassed at how old-fashioned her relationship with Owen had been. At the time, his willingness to wait had seemed chivalrous. But she realized it was just one more way she’d manipulated the situation, too scared to move forward with a physical commitment. Not that she’d admit that to Sam. “I wanted to take it slow because of Cooper and—”

  “And?” Sam prompted.

  “Because I liked him,” Jenny admitted. “Really liked him. So much that I screwed it up. We’ve been through this. Old news.”

  “This dress is going to kill him.”

  Jenny took another look at herself. “If spending an evening with him as my fake fiancé doesn’t kill me first.”

  “Are you getting married?”

  Owen massaged two fingers against his forehead at the note of accusation in his sister’s voice.

  “No.”

  Gabrielle breathed out a labored sigh over the phone. “Then why did someone I know from the ski team text that her older sister saw your engagement announcement on Facebook?”

  “I hate Facebook,” he muttered.

  His baby sister, who wasn’t such a baby, laughed. “You just wish you’d thought of it.”

  “Maybe,” he admitted. “I’m pretending to be engaged as a favor for a friend. Don’t mention it to Mom and Dad.”

  “An engagement is a pretty big favor,” she murmured.

  “Or Jack,” he added, ignoring her comment as he thought of his younger brother, the consummate middle child. “I definitely don’t want Jack to know.”

  “Jack and Kristin are way too busy planning their wedding,” Gabby answered. “You know they’re the first couple in the history of the world to get married? Or at least in Kristin’s mind they are. Honestly, Owen, I know Kristin broke your heart, but you dodged a bullet with that one. I hope you’re not that big an idiot with all women.”

  He let out a small laugh. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” He wasn’t about to admit that he’d allowed another woman to make a fool of him. In some ways, Jenny reminded him of his boisterous sister—both of them willing to say whatever came to mind with little thought for the consequences.

  “Tell me about your fiancée,” Gabby prompted. “Are you sure I can’t mention it to Kristin? She’s having a bridal shower this weekend, and there’s already another scheduled for when the out-of-town guests arrive. That one is a lingerie shower, which . . . blech.” She made another noise of disgust. “I swear, Owen, it would kill her to know you’re engaged if only because it would take some of the attention off her and Jack.”

  “I’m not engaged, Gabby.”

  “Whatever,” she shot back. “She could think you are, and that would be enough. Plus Mom is online all the time. Just last week she had me help her set up an Instagram account. You can’t keep this a secret forever.”

  “It will be a non-issue when I arrive for the weekend alone.”

  Gabby let out a cackle. “Bring along your friend. Come on, Owen. When was the last time we had some fun with Jack?”

  “I doubt Jack would consider this fun.”

  “Every party needs a pooper . . .”

  Owen smiled despite himself. Even though he and his younger brother were only separated by eighteen months, he’d always been closer to Gabby, who’d come along as a surprise five years later. Jack was the favorite, Gabby was the baby of the family, and Owen was . . . the son who’d never fit in.

  So the fact that his little sister had adored him from the moment their parents brought her home from the hospital had been a beacon of light in Owen’s otherwise shadowy childhood. It also meant he’d been wrapped around her little finger for just as long.

  “Please,” she pleaded in her sweetest tone. “I’ve been stuck listening to this for a month and—”

  “How’s your leg?”

  There was an abrupt silence on the other end of the line. “Fine.”

  “Liar.”

  When she didn’t respond, he said quietly, “It’s going to get better, Gabby. My offer still stands to fly you to the Steadman Clinic in Vail. It’s one of the best orthopedic centers in—”

  “I said it’s fine,” she snapped. “I’m not a kid with a skinned knee. You don’t have to fix me.”

  “I understand that.” He sighed, knowing it was useless to have the conversation over the phone. He could barely manage his own life. He had no right to insert himself into Gabby’s. But he hated hearing the underlying twinge of melancholy in her tone. “Are Jack and Kristin really that annoying?”

  “The worst.” There was a pause before she added, “I can’t wait for you to get here, Owen.”

  He heard in his sister’s voice all the things she wasn’t saying out loud. Every last one was like a score across his heart. “I’ll be there a few days before the wedding, kiddo.”

  “Maybe the week before?” she asked, her voice pleading.

  “I’ll try,” he promised, and heard her deep release of breath.

  They disconnected and Owen tossed the phone onto his coffee table and stood. He walked to the bank of windows that looked over both Union Station in Lower Downtown Denver and farther toward the Front Range to the west beyond the city.

  When he’d bought the penthouse loft five years ago, he’d had walls torn out and opened up the space. Windows were installed across one full wall, similar to the ones he’d had designed for his office building. Growing up in West Virginia, Owen had only seen the gentle sloping Appalachian Mountains before venturing west to Colorado.

  The rugged peaks of the Rockies were massive in scale, and Owen took inspiration from them every day. His childhood had been a series of disappointments—or more accurately, he’d continually disappointed his parents because he wasn’t the son they wanted or expected him to be. Even with all of his professional success, his mom and dad still seemed baffled by why he was so interested in technology. It had always been that way. There was no room for who he was in his family.

  He watched the sun dip below the highest peak as streaks of pink and purple moved across the sky. He’d felt stifled as a boy, constantly having a ball of one sort or the other shoved into his hands. He w
as fairly certain he was the only kid in history who had been punished by being forced to stop reading. He’d loved the science of taking things apart and putting them back together. Old radios, broken computers, whatever little pieces of machinery he could find.

  Still, his father had insisted that he sign up for every sport his elementary school offered. By junior high, it had become clear that Owen had little athletic ability and even less inclination. His father had stopped trying with him. Stopped . . . everything. At least that’s how it had felt to Owen. None of his academic accomplishments had mattered compared to the athletic prowess of the other two Dalton children.

  Jack had been the quarterback for the high school football team, pitcher for the baseball team, and star center for the basketball team. Then he followed in their father’s footsteps as a marine.

  His sister had taken a different, if equally bright, path. From the time she’d first been on skis as a toddler, Gabby had loved speed. She’d mountain biked in the summer and skied all winter, eventually being the youngest girl to qualify for the US Olympic alpine ski team in the downhill event.

  Fast-forward to now and both of his siblings were back in Hastings, Jack on leave from the marines and Gabby sidelined with a fractured knee from a crash at the World Cup.

  Owen had recently been named one of Time magazine’s top one hundred most influential people in the world as part of their Person of the Year issue, for the seventh year in a row. But none of it mattered. Owen might be rich and powerful, but back in his childhood home, he was simply the geeky son who hadn’t fit the Dalton mold.

  He’d planned to spend as little time as possible in Hastings for the wedding. But Gabby needed him, and he had a difficult time denying his sister anything.

  He walked to the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge, popping the top and taking a long pull. Before he could even think about his brother’s impending nuptials, he had to get through a night with Jenny on his arm.

  Just like with Gabby, he couldn’t seem to deny Jenny Castelli, and he wondered how much of a thrashing both his willpower and ego were going to take.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The doorbell gave a second, more insistent ring as Jenny stood in the entry of her cozy house the following Saturday night. She was frozen in place, unable to move forward to answer it, her heart pounding double time against her ribs, and her whole body stiff with panic.

  What the hell had she been thinking?

  A million answers raced through her mind, none of them helpful. Most included the words fool, idiot, reckless, rash, stupid. And those were the ones she could include without owing money to Cooper’s swear jar.

  Cooper.

  He was at a sleepover with a friend, arranged so he wouldn’t be at the house when Owen arrived. After their initial conversation over dinner, she’d tried to avoid the topic of the reunion, both because she didn’t want to deal with it and because she hated the pain of discussing a father who wasn’t interested in having a relationship with Cooper.

  It was a more difficult absence to ignore once they knew about Trent’s family. Over the years, she’d used every excuse she could think of to avoid Cooper internalizing Trent’s rejection in the way that Jenny had always felt the absence of her dad.

  The idea that her father had walked away because something was wrong with her—that she hadn’t been enough—was a deeply embedded part of her identity. It killed her to think Cooper might ever believe he was less than amazing.

  The opportunity to confront Trent at the reunion both propelled her forward and made her want to run in the other direction. Her first priority was to protect her son, but there was no right answer for how to safeguard his heart when dealing with a deadbeat father.

  But she needed to do something, and the fact that she would be on Owen’s arm tonight made her brave enough to face an army of petty, judgmental women or the man who had walked away from her and her unborn son so many years before.

  Pulling in a deep breath, she yanked open the door only to see Owen heading down the front steps. He turned back around, his eyes widening as he took her in from head to toe.

  “Hey,” she whispered, then cleared her throat. All that panic from a minute ago seemed to take flight in her stomach as she met Owen’s dark gaze, her nerves swooping and diving like an eagle over a mountain lake. “Sorry it took me a minute to get to the door.”

  He moved toward her slowly. “I thought I was being stood up.”

  She shook her head. “I wouldn’t . . . I’m just . . .”

  “Having second thoughts about our engagement?”

  “Sort of. Although my doubts have nothing to do with you.” She let out a breathy laugh and tugged at the fabric of her gown. “Or this dress. Sam picked it out. It’s supposed to be my armor for the night.”

  One side of his mouth quirked. “Are we going into battle?”

  “I’m not sure yet,” she admitted. “Maybe.”

  His eyes turned dark and his body went stiff, like there was some sort of internal battle waging inside him. For a moment she thought maybe he was going to walk away. Then he muttered, “The dress is gorgeous and the shoes are amazing, but they’re just icing on the cake, Jenny.”

  It was obvious he didn’t want to give her the compliment, but he offered it anyway. This man was so much more of a threat than any former high school bully. His innate kindness allowed him to slip past her defenses, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. She’d erected those walls for good reason, and the fact that he could so easily breach them made her even more nervous. It had also led to her hurting him, a decision she would regret for the rest of her life.

  “You look pretty good, too,” she said, trying to make her tone light. He wore a charcoal-gray suit with a pale blue shirt and a burgundy tie. Without his oversize desk separating them, there was no doubt that he was different than before. His edges were sharpened, and an air of something less “goofy tech nerd” and more “powerful corporate scion” swirled around him.

  Whatever it was, her body was reacting in a way that left her feeling wholly out of control, especially when he stared at her as if he could read every thought ripping through her mind.

  “I just need to grab my keys,” she mumbled, then stepped back into the house. Her heel caught on the threshold, and she started to pitch back before strong arms reached for her.

  A moment later she was plastered against Owen, her hands instinctively wrapping around his shoulders. He smelled like a delicious mix of mint gum and spice that sent her senses reeling. She was suddenly off balance for an entirely different reason than her silly heels.

  His eyes darkened as he gazed down at her, but then he set her away from him with a soft laugh. “High heels are tough.”

  She nodded, still in a daze, and stepped into the house to grab her small clutch from the table in the entry. She swallowed as her gaze caught on the ring sitting next to it.

  “Um . . .” She turned and gestured to Owen, who moved to stand next to her. It was the first time he’d been to her new house, and she couldn’t help but wonder what he thought of the property and all the work that needed to be done on it.

  Although her friends had supported her plan for the nursery, she suspected they thought she was a little bit crazy to take on such a huge project, especially with her limited financial resources. Hell, there were many times over the past six months when she’d thought she was crazy. Somehow she knew any type of disapproval from Owen would carry more weight in her heart, and the last thing she needed was another reason to doubt herself.

  She was full up on doubts.

  She tried to concentrate on the present moment, even as his presence next to her made nerves dance along her skin.

  Or maybe it was what she was about to say.

  “I went ahead and got a ring,” she muttered, picking it up and holding out her flattened palm for him to examine. “It’s paste, of course, but I had to get one that was kind of gaudy because . . .” She glanced up at him
from under her lashes. “I kind of bragged about the size of the diamond.”

  “You mentioned that,” he answered.

  But when she went to slip the ring onto her left hand, he plucked it out of her fingers.

  “I know it’s weird,” she told him, “but I have to wear it.”

  He slipped the ring into his jacket, then pulled out a black velvet box from his pants pocket. “I think it’s customary that the man present his fiancée with a ring.”

  Before she could argue, he opened the box to reveal the most beautiful engagement ring she could imagine. The center stone was princess cut and surrounded by three tiny diamonds on either side, all set in a simple platinum band. Even in the muted light of her entry, she could tell that the main stone was flawless.

  “Tell me you didn’t buy that.” Her voice sounded raspy. Jenny had never let herself imagine getting married, but if she had, this would be her perfect ring. The fact that Owen was standing in front of her with it made her heart squeeze in ways she didn’t care to examine.

  He shrugged. “Let’s say it’s on loan from a jewelry designer I know.”

  She continued to stare, not trusting herself to respond.

  “Do I actually need to get down on one knee?” he asked with a wry smile.

  “I can’t wear the ring. It’s too much. It’s too beautiful. It’s all—”

  “It’s all part of tonight’s farce,” he told her. “We’re doing this to make a statement. No one would believe I’d let my fiancée settle for anything but the best.” He removed the ring from the box and took her hand in his. Her fingertips were freezing and his skin almost burned as he touched her.

  She tried not to react as he slipped the ring onto her finger. It caught for an instant on her knuckle, then he twisted, and it slid into place. The solid weight felt so right on her finger that a piece of her never wanted to take off the band.

  “So the ring is about you?” she asked as she stared at it.

  “You’re basically using me, Jenny.” His tone turned chilly. “But it goes both ways. Tonight you’re a reflection of me.” He lifted her hand to examine the ring. “Plus, you’ll owe me, and I like the thought of that.”