Crushed (Crystal Brook Billionaires) (16 page)

“What?” Gwen asked.

“Nothing,” I responded, somehow squeezing the word from my strained vocal cords.

Gwen turned to see where I was looking. “Oh my God,” she whispered.

Owen sauntered past us and up to the bar, seemingly not even noticing we were there. His skin was darker than it had been two months ago, tanned to a warm bronze. The same old muscles were there, nearly popping through his t-shirt. Taking a seat at the end of the bar closest to us, his face remained turned away.

Gwen started to get up. “I’ll go ask him to join us.”

Ninja-quick, I grabbed her arm in a vice grip. “No,” I whispered.

“Are you sure? Don’t you think it’s, like, a sign? We were just talking about him.”

“If this were a city with a population of eight million freaking people, then it would be a sign. But it’s Crystal Brook, and you can’t go a day without running into someone.”

Gwen sat back down. “He’ll notice us eventually.”

“Yeah, and if I’m lucky, I’ll be drunk by then.” I downed half my drink. “If you can catch the waitress, order a second round.”

“Geez, Claire, slow down. At least wait until you eat some food.”

“There’s lychee in this, remember? That’s a fruit. Or a nut, or something.”

The door opened again, and a willowy girl with short blonde hair came in. She took a look around and then headed for the bar. An odd sensation in my stomach, I watched her as surreptitiously as possible. She settled next to Owen and immediately began to chat him up.

“Look,” I whispered, nodding my head towards the bar. “He’s on a date.”

Gwen casually glanced over her shoulder. “You sure?”

“Looks like it. Now that’s a sign.”

“No, it’s not,” she hissed.

“Here we go,” announced a cheery voice. The waitress appeared out of thin air and set the appetizer we’d ordered down.

“I’ll take another one of these,” I told her, lifting my almost empty glass.

“Sure thing.”

She went for my glass, but I yanked it out of reach and tossed back the last ounce before handing it over.

“Thanks,” I told her.

Gwen was sitting sideways, carefully watching whatever was going on over at the bar.

“They’ll notice you,” I told her. “You look like a creeper.”

“It’s better than watching in the window’s reflection.”

I tensed, embarrassed at getting caught. “There’s not much to see anyway.”

And even though there wasn’t, I squinted my eyes and peered a little harder at the window. All that could really be made out was the girl’s bright red dress, Owen’s vague form, and the white lights hanging above the bar.

“I’m not so sure they’re on a date,” Gwen announced.

I scooped up some dip and took a big bite. “Let’s talk about something else.”

“Okay.” She turned around and faced the window with me. “I found a dead rat in the backyard today.”

“Ew, God, Gwen. That’s gross. You know, that’s what fiancés are for. They can take care of those things.”

“Yeah, and he’s not home until tomorrow.”

“So what did you do?”

“I left it there.”

I laughed. “I might have done the same. That or called Dad.”

We chit chatted through the next round of drinks, the conversation jumping from one light topic to the next. I tried to keep my eyes off the window’s reflection and my mind off Owen. It didn’t matter what he was doing at the bar — date or no date. Just like it didn’t matter how much I’d been thinking about him in the last two months.

I wasn’t ready for even the lightest fling with a man. I wasn’t ready to experience those things… to feel those things.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Gwen announced when she’d gotten halfway through her drink.

“Okay.”

My cell phone buzzed, and I pulled it out of my pocket. It was a text from Radha asking if I’d gotten in. Not in the mood to start up a conversation, I sent back a
‘Good, thanks’
and then scrolled through my Twitter feed, but only because I didn’t want to be tempted by the desire to spy on Owen and his date.

My sister’s voice pulled me out of my phone’s vortex. She was somewhere else in the bar, her words garbled. Already knowing just where she was to be found, I looked up and over at the end of the bar. Owen still sat there, but the blonde girl was nowhere to be seen. Instead, Gwen stood next to him, smiling and talking. Her eyes caught mine, making Owen notice and turn in his seat.

The second his gaze fell on me it was like I’d gotten caught in a warm rain shower. Delicious heat fell all over my body, making me relaxed and anxious at the same time.

Had it been like that the last time we’d seen each other? Or the time before that?

The last time I could allow myself to remember a man making me feel quite that way I’d been looking at Peter.

Owen lifted his hand in a wave. I forced myself to smile back. Gwen was already coming back to where I sat.

“I’m sorry,” she hissed before I could say anything. “He saw me.”

Owen had picked up his beer and was following her over. My head began to pound.

Please sit next to me.

Please don’t sit next to me.

Please sit next to me.

Please don’t sit next to me.

“Hey,” he said, grabbing a nearby stool and pulling it over… right next to mine.

“Hello,” I croaked and gulped at my drink.

“It’s been a little while.”

“Has it?”

I bit my lip. God, that sounded bitchy. I scrambled for something to say that could be redeeming. “You look great.”

“Thanks. So do you.”

My heart rate picked up.

He may not even mean that. He’s just being polite.

God, why was I over thinking everything? It was just a simple compliment, but for some reason, I was dissecting it fifth-grade biology style.

“Huh?” I asked Gwen as I realized she was speaking to me.

“The sunroom,” she said like that explained everything. And maybe it did and I had just been doing a shitty job of listening.

I nodded. “Oh, yeah. Right.”

Owen looked at me. “How’s work been?”

“Good.” I cleared my throat. “Where have you, ah, been? I mean what have you been up to?”

“Well, I bought a house. Here in Crystal Brook.”

“Wow. That’s cool.”

Gwen narrowed her eyes slightly, but I ignored her.

“You should come by and see it,” Owen went on. “But just to warn you, I’m doing a lot of work on it right now, so it’s not in the best shape.”

“That’s all right,” I quickly said.

Gwen took a sip of her cocktail. I could see the smile there. She was trying to suppress it, but she’d never really been much of an actress.

“How long are you in town?”

“Just the weekend. It’s just a short trip.”

“Wedding stuff?” He looked from me to Gwen.

“Not really,” I said. “Most of that’s been taken care of.”

Gwen interrupted. “All except the bridesmaids’ dresses. And the flower arrangements. And we haven’t gotten a count of vegetarians yet, so we haven’t been able to find a caterer yet…” Her eyes grew wide, taking on a slightly frantic look. “And then there are the candles. Shit. I forgot about those. I don’t even know how many we’ll need. I need to make a note about that. Does anyone have a pen?”

“Gwen,” I said. “Have a fucking drink.”

Owen laughed then covered his mouth with his fist and forced himself to stop. Gwen listened and took a sip of her cocktail. A second later, she spat some of it out, almost hitting me in the face with it.

“What time is it?” she demanded.

Owen looked at his wristwatch — which really did something nice to me, because, really, who wears wristwatches anymore?

Classy men, that’s who. Men with class.

“Nine-thirty,” he announced.

“Aw, damn!” She slammed her drink down then grabbed her purse and threw some bills on the table. “I need to go meet the delivery guy.”

“This late?” Owen asked.

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, we were supposed to get the bean order yesterday during the day, but there was a big hold up with shipping. Anyway, I gotta go. Nice to see you, Owen.”

She started walking backwards for the door, her eyes on me. “See you tomorrow.”

“Bye,” I waved. “Love you.”

She blew me a kiss and then turned and ran out the door.

Owen chuckled lightly.

“What? Gwen?”

“Yeah.”

I shrugged. “She’s been like that a lot lately. She’s half chicken, half human with its head cut off.”

“Planning a wedding can be stressful, I imagine.”

“Especially if you’re a workaholic who’s also remodeling your house at the same time.”

His eyes went wide. “Yikes.”

“Yikes indeed.” I nodded. “It’s all for the wedding, at that.” I shook my head.

“They have to do it there?”

“It’s important to them.”

He looked at my empty glass. “Can I get you another drink?”

I stared at it, debating. One more shot of liquor and I would be in serious danger of losing a few of my inhibitions. That really wasn’t something I wanted to have happen around Owen.

“Actually,” I slowly said, “I think I’m done for the night, but thanks.”

“Me too,” he announced, setting his beer bottle on the table.

I swallowed hard. Being alone with him was more difficult than any of the previous times had been. I had nerves reminiscent of first dates in high school, and man, I hated it.

“Would you…” Owen hesitated, and I held my breath. “Would you like to take a walk?”

I didn’t know what was right for me. I didn’t know what I should or shouldn’t be doing, but I did know what I wanted to do.

“Yeah,” I said. “Sounds good.”

He stood, but waited for me to lead the way. I did so, conscious of him behind me the entire time. Out on the street, we took off in the direction of the courtyard.

“It really is cool that you bought a house,” I said. “And… kind of surprising.”

“Why is it surprising?”

I lifted one shoulder. “I guess because of the impression I’ve gotten from you. You seem to be a wanderer.”

He smirked under the street lights. “For most of my life, I have been. I’m getting kind of tired of that though.”

“So this buying a house… did it do it? Did it fill that hole?”

I waited nervously, wondering if the question had been too forward.

“Maybe,” he answered. “But doesn’t everything for a little while?”

I laughed. “Yeah, everything does. True. So can I ask another question?”

“I think that’s what long walks in the evening air are for. Ask away.”

We stopped at the crosswalk and waited for a car to slow down. Its headlights halted, and we moved across the white lines, not talking about where we were going but naturally heading for the front of the courthouse.

“Why Crystal Brook? Is it just because your parents already had a place here?”

Owen let out his breath, then reached up to run his fingers through his hair. His triceps bulged as he did so, making my stomach clench.

“You still thinking about your answer?” I asked, heading for the bench in front of the courthouse. It was a good spot, one from which you could see down two different streets. During the day it was often taken up by some old folks watching people go by or a college kid reading a book, but at night it could be found vacant. I sat down on one end and watched as Owen caught up. The light on the bench was dimmer than the light coming from the restaurants, but I could still see the slight smile he wore.

“Yeah,” he answered, easing down onto the opposite end of the bench. “I’m still thinking.”

“Take your time.”

“I guess… there’s just something about this town. Something I can’t put my finger on. It’s probably what made my parents buy a house here.”

“What’s their plan with that?”

He shook his head. “Who knows? Their plan changes all the time. I think they had this idea of coming down here in their old age and living out some romantic idea of what it means to be Southern.”

“Hm,” I mused. “Your parents sound like fun.”

“They are.”

“I would think that they would find Crystal Brook boring. But then again, I grew up here, so it’s kind of hard to be objective about it.”

Owen slowly shook his head. “Like I said… the best thing about this town is underneath its surface. It’s something you can’t see; you just feel it—”

“Wafting through your open window at night,” I murmured, finishing for him.

Owen turned and faced me straight on. “You could write poetry. Where did that come from?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted.

The mention of poetry made me uncomfortable. I cleared my throat and tried to think of the next thing to say.

“I’ve been seeing a therapist,” I said, then put a period at the end of the announcement by cringing.

Smooth, Claire. Really.

“That’s great,” Owen said. “We talked about that, didn’t we?”

“Yeah, my boss… well, Gwen’s fiancée. He’s both. He kind of made me. Jason can be that way.”

“But it’s good?”

“Yeah.” I nodded. “I think I’ve been doing better.”

“Claire, that’s great.”

There was a real joy in his voice, a sparkle. I peered at him, trying to get a read on him despite the lack of light. “Really?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ve been wondering about you… so much.”

I tried to open my mouth to respond, but every bit of my body had become heavy. Heavy in that wonderful way it can when it’s going through a moment that’s just mind blowing. It’s like gravity doubles, and you’re getting plastered to the earth, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“You have?” I asked, sounding like a silly little school girl.

“Yeah,” he throatily responded. “I just didn’t want to bother you.”

I looked down at my lap, my hands pressed together and making one big dark blob.

“I don’t know what to say,” I finally admitted. “That’s nice of you, but I’m sorry you felt like you would have been bothering me.”

“Would I have been?”

“Um… yes. Maybe… or no. I’m sorry. I don’t really know.”

“That’s all right. Don’t worry about it.”

“I thought of you too.”

“That’s nice,” he murmured. It didn’t sound like just a formality. There was a genuineness in the statement that gave me goosebumps.