Just a Number(10)

“Go home, Gretchen—wherever that is now.” I can tell Owen is trying to remain calm, but I can hear the anger in his voice slowly beginning to escalate; I’ve known him long enough and heard enough of their fights to know when he’s close to his breaking point.

Gretchen scoffs. “You can’t really be willing to throw away thirteen years for her.”

“Not for her,” Owen assures her. “But because you couldn’t stop sleeping around!”

I slap my hands over my mouth to contain a gasp; she cheated on him? Why the hell would anyone cheat on him?

“And you’d throw away everything for one minor indiscretion?”

“Minor?” Owen barks out a laugh. “One? Four different men, Gretchen. Four. I’d say that classifies as a little more than a ‘minor’ indiscretion.”

“But, Owen—”

“No!” he shouts, startling even me. “Go back to Seattle and pack your shit. I want you gone before I get back on Tuesday.”

“But, I love you,” she tries to bargain sweetly, but even I can see through it; she’s so damn transparent.

“No, you love my money. Now go!”

The door slams, and I stand up and turn around just as Owen returns. “I’m sorry you had to hear that. I didn’t think she’d show up here.”

I shake my head and take a few slow steps toward him, almost like I’m afraid of spooking him. “Don’t be sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sure this couldn’t have looked good.”

“Like I give a shit how it looked to her,” he said, his eyes showing his pain. “She sure as fuck didn’t care how I would feel, so if she thinks something is going on between us, so be it.”

I can see that he’s hurting, and when the rims of his eyes begin to turn red, I cross the kitchen and wrap my arms around his neck without another thought. He welcomes my embrace, wrapping his strong arms around my waist and holding me close.

“I’m sorry your wife is such a bitch,” I mumble over his shoulder, my fingers mindlessly moving through the hair at the nape of his neck. This makes Owen laugh, his chest rising and falling against mine. “I mean, I’m not sorry like I think it’s my fault—she was a bitch long before this.”

“That she was,” Owen concurs with a chuckle, releasing his hold on me a little. His hands remain on my waist, and mine slide down to his chest as we begin to pull apart. “I’m just sorry I didn’t see it until now.”

“Love is blind,” I tell him softly, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt without my brain’s permission. The mood in the room shifts the second our eyes lock. He’s so close that I can feel his heart begin to race, and the warmth of his body against mine makes me tremble slightly.

“I’m beginning to get that.” The low rasp in his voice excites me, the gravelly sound of it vibrating deep to my bones, and his fingers curl against my back, holding me closer. “Amelia...” The way he says my name affects me in an unexpected way. I’ve always just been “Amy” to him and everyone else, so this makes me feel special in some way—worthy of his affection, even.

“Yes?” I ask breathlessly as he lowers his face to mine slowly. We’re mere inches apart, and I mentally will him to come closer. I beg. I plead. I shouldn’t, but I do.

“We shouldn’t...” The conflict is back in his eyes, but the fact that he refuses to let go of me bodes well for me experiencing what it would be like to kiss Owen Cavanaugh—correction: consciously kiss Owen Cavanaugh.

“Maybe not,” I whisper, bringing one of my hands up and stroking his jaw in an effort to coax him closer. It’s shameless, but I can’t find it in myself to care. “But why fight it?”

My entire body hums and vibrates with anticipation as he draws near, and when his nose brushes mine, I inhale a shuddering breath.

“Tell me to stop,” he pleads, his lips ghosting mine with every word.

“I can’t,” I confess, locking eyes with him again. “I’ve wanted this for so long, Owen.”

This seems to shock him, but not in a bad way. Instead, he smirks and shrugs one shoulder. “Well then, I guess that makes two of us.”

Before I can declare my own surprise, his lips are on mine, working fervently as his tongue sweeps over my bottom lip. Kissing Owen is better than I ever could have imagined, and he tastes like a heavenly combination of salty and sweet as we deepen our kiss, our tongues mingling and sliding with one another. He tastes sweet, and his strong arms tighten around me as I thrust my fingers into his hair to hold him close. With a deep groan, he bites my bottom lip and walks us toward the island until the edge bites into my back.