Tied to Trouble(22)

“What about James?” The editor-in-chief, Marley’s direct boss, could surely handle this.

Marley rolled her eyes. “He’ll be at the conference with us.”

“So—”

“So unless we can find a way to get one of us out of the conference, I think you’re up, buddy.”

Owen rubbed his forehead as a headache began to form. His first instinct was to say, “Hell, no.” And a year ago, he would have said that. But a small part of him—okay, a large part—was flattered that he’d been asked rather than a member of the sales team or art department. Him. Asked to represent the company. He’d wanted visibility, and this was it, right here, handed to him.

So why did he feel ill?

“All you have to do is take them out,” Marley said. “Grant will make the plans and reservations. You just have to show up. Okay? And be friendly and…charming.” She winced.

He frowned. “Why are you making that face? Are you saying I’m not charming?”

Marley’s eyes went wide. “What? I’m not making a face.”

“You were totally making a face. Like calling me charming was physically painful.”

“I love you, Owen, and you have many, many talents, but I wouldn’t say that social skills are your forte.”

Hell. His confidence vaporized. “Then maybe—”

“Sorry, Grant already made the decision. You’re up if one of us can’t show. Because you do know the business the best, and Grant is confident you’ll make a good first impression.”

He swallowed and forced a smile. “I appreciate that you guys thought of me.”

Marley grinned. It was Chad’s grin, and it made Owen feel uncomfortable. “I’d love to know what you’re really thinking, but for what it’s worth, you’re welcome.”

He pressed his lips together.

She laughed, and it was Chad’s laugh, and holy shit, Owen really needed to get the hell out of this office. “Okay, so we’re good.”

“Is there anything else you need from me, or do you enjoy calling me into your office five times a day?”

“It’s a ten-foot walk, Owen. Quit whining.”

Owen stood up. “I’m heading to the break room. Want something?”

Marley squinted. “Are the doughnuts Sue brought this morning still there?”

“I don’t know. There were a dozen and you ate eleven, right?”

Marley threw a piece of paper at him. “I hate you. Get me a damn doughnut.”

“Yes, your highness.”

He walked out of her office, wondering if he’d faked his confidence well. Marley had probably seen through it, but fake it till you make it, right?





Chapter Seven


By the time Owen was standing in Cassidy Park, waiting for Chad to arrive, he was itching to get his hands on the man. He hadn’t eaten much all day, so maybe he was a little delirious, but he wanted to feel Chad’s skin, wanted to taste his mouth.

He wanted him like he hadn’t wanted anyone, ever.

Like he wasn’t sure he’d want anyone again.

He heard Chad before he saw him, the rumbling pipes of his motorcycle as he came into the parking lot at a speed that Owen didn’t find appropriate at all.

Chad’s hair was flying on his helmet-less head, and when he parked, he looked up and shot Owen a shit-eating grin. His gaze dipped to Owen’s throat, where he wore a bow tie, then back up to Owen’s face. That grin got bigger. And Owen got hard. He reached up and ran his fingers over the silk fabric. It was green today with white polka dots. He wore it with a pale blue shirt. This bow tie was one of his favorites, and if he was reading Chad’s expression correctly, the other man liked it, too.

Chad kicked down the stand and stepped off his bike. He ran a casual hand through his windblown hair and made his way toward Owen with a saunter that was signature Chad.

Something bright and hot flared in Owen’s chest, and he slid a finger under his collar to let some cool air soothe the heat of his flushed skin. He glanced around, but the parking lot was empty of people and they were in a secluded spot under a grove of trees. When Chad was within touching distance, Owen grabbed him by the lapel of his leather jacket and pulled him against his body.

Chad didn’t protest, but he didn’t let Owen direct the kiss, either. He fought it, his tongue dueling with Owen’s. All teeth and harsh breaths. Owen pulled away and ran his hand over Chad’s dark hair. “You need a helmet.”

“No, I don’t. It’s not against the law here in PA.” Chad paused, then smiled. “Not that it would stop me from going without anyway.”

“It’s not safe,” Owen insisted.