Outmatched in October (Spring River Valley Book 10) (6 page)

When he wasn’t looking, Taylor pantomimed to Claudia,
Talk to him
. She waved him off, and that subtle movement caught Owen’s attention.

He turned a questioning stare at her. “What’s up?”

“Nothing. I’m just…uh…Dani was great tonight. I think you made a perfect choice.”

“We all agreed. It wasn’t just me.”

“Right. Well, she’s great.”

He nodded curtly and went back to packing equipment. For some reason tonight, cleanup seemed to be taking forever. When he’d lined up the last of the wires and stands at the edge of the stage area, Owen cast that same curious glance at her. “Are you catching a ride home with Taylor?”

Claudia was about to say yes—her apartment was between Taylor’s house and Colette’s, so he drove her home most of the time. Owen lived in the opposite direction. Before answering, though, she glanced over at Dani and followed the redhead’s distracted gaze.

She was watching Taylor.

“Um…I’m probably going to call a cab. Taylor said he can’t drive me tonight.”

Owen raised a brow, and Claudia bit her lower lip. Would he catch her in that bald
-faced lie or let it pass?

Danielle had arrived at Colette’s with a group of her coworkers, any of whom might have given her a ride home, but it gave Claudia a wicked thrill to think about nudging Taylor in her direction. He’d been alone a long time, and seeing him obviously infatuated with Dani gave her troubled spirits a boost.

“Don’t waste your pay on a cab,” Owen said grudgingly. “I’ll take you home.”

That really hadn’t been the aim of her lie.  Suddenly the thought of being trapped in a quiet car with him had her stomach churning. The time for being able to tell him how she felt had passed, and she was certain she’d be completely unable to fill the awkward space between them with anything even remotely resembling natural conversation. “No, it’s fine. Really.”

He handed her a case of wires and scooped up the microphone stands under his arm. “Don’t be ridiculous. Let’s go.”

Don’t be ridiculous. As if she could avoid it. She
felt like every word she’d said and every move she’d made in the past week had been nothing but ridiculous. Shoulders bowed under the weight of the equipment case, she nodded good-bye to Dani and Taylor and followed Owen out through the back door of the bar, intent on figuring out how not to be ridiculous ever again.

* * * *

Normally, after a gig, Owen drove home in silence. He found he needed the quiet to unwind after the bustle of a busy Friday night at the most popular spot in town, and listening to the whir of a car engine rather than the beat of a drum lowered his blood pressure and calmed his thoughts.

Tonight, however, after he got into the car with Claudia, he immediately reached for the radio.

“What are you doing?” Her question startled him, apparently just as much as his unconscious action surprised her.

“I’m…uh…looking for a news station.” Sure. No one would buy that lame excuse.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. I bought a football raffle. I want to see who won the game.”

“On a Friday night? Don’t they play football on Sunday?”

He abandoned his quest to find a suitable station and put the car in gear. “
And
Friday. Haven’t you heard of
Friday Night Lights
? It’s a show…about football.”

“I’ve heard of it. You’re betting on high school football?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“I’ve known you ten years, and I’ve never once seen you watch a football game.”

“I don’t watch football. That’s why I have to listen to the radio to find out who won.” Eyes on the road, he pulled out of the parking lot onto West Denton Avenue, wishing he could just outrun this dead-end conversation.

“So what teams were playing?”

“Obviously the Giants.”

“And?”

“The…Orioles.”

“Don’t the Orioles play baseball?”

“That makes it a sure bet the Giants won.”

Claudia was silent for a few minutes, probably certain he’d lost his mind. He made a mental note next time to research his lies before he told them and focused all his concentration on driving. He willed the car engine to make more noise, hoping it might drown out any further conversation.

“Who did you buy the ticket from?” Of course she wasn’t going to let it go.

“I don’t remember. Some kid came into the store selling them.” Why didn’t he just come clean at this point? If he dug this hole any deeper the walls would just come crashing down on him.

“So, if you won, how will you know who to go to for your winnings?”

“Is this the inquisition? I bought a ticket. I probably didn’t win. Why the twenty questions?”

“I’m just making conversation.” She folded her hands primly in her lap, just above the hem of her sexy little dress. Owen forced himself to watch the road instead of the way the burgundy material rode up her thigh.

“It’s a nice night out,” he said after rolling down the
driver’s-side window to let in some much needed air. “That’s conversation.”

“But the teams that are playing the ‘big game’ isn’t conversation?”

“Statements are conversation, not questions.” He eyed a passing street sign. Two more blocks to her place and this torture would be over. Would she wear that sweet little dress for Armani guy?

Now her hair was blowing in the breeze from the open window, lashing around her face. He forced his attention back to the road.

“So asking a question isn’t conversation?”

“No, it’s interrogation.”

“You’re losing your mind. How about that for a statement?”

“You followed it with a question.”

“Oh, God. Why is it so impossible to talk to you?”

“What do you want to talk about?”

“I don’t know. Me…leaving. Going to New York.”

Just exactly what he didn’t want to talk about. “So talk. You got the job. Congratulations. What more is there to say?”

“I don’t know. You tell me. What more is there to say?”

One more block. Would he make it before he lost his mind and broke down begging her not to go? “Nothing. It’s a great opportunity, and you deserve it.” There it was, the two-story house where Claudia lived with her friend Lily. The upstairs apartment was dark. No one home. He was almost free of this torture, but he just couldn’t stop talking now. “As long as it’s not contingent on anything.”

“Contingent? What does that mean?” She was staring at him, eyes blazing.

“Nothing.” He eased the car toward the curb.

“Of course it means something.”

“It means,” he paused, hands tight on the steering wheel as the car came to a stop. “It’s a great opportunity as long as it’s not contingent on you sleeping with him.”

If Owen had slapped her, Claudia wouldn’t have been more shocked than she was by his insinuation that Jacob had hired her only as a ruse to get her into bed.

Her mouth dropped open and she stared at his profile, stunned that he
thought she was that naive. “Is that what you think? That I had to sleep with Jacob to get the job he was offering?”

“Maybe not to get it. What about to keep it?” He never turned his head, just sat
there, hands gripping the steering wheel, staring straight ahead. His jaw was clenched, and his shoulders had climbed up around his ears.

“That’s what you think of me?”

“Not you. Him.”

“You don’t even know him.”

“Do you?” Now he looked at her, the blue-green of his eyes reduced to a thin ring in the dark of the car. “This guy shows up out of nowhere, offers you a dream job, and expects nothing in return?”

“He expects me to sing. That’s all.” She wanted her response to be strong and unquestionable and fierce, but instead she choked on the words, tears clogging her throat. Did Owen have the slightest idea how scared she was that she was making a mistake? Did he know that the last thing she needed was someone to cas
t more doubt on this opportunity?

She didn’t wait for a response. Instead she threw the car door open and climbed out, slamming it as hard as she could behind her. “Maybe you think I couldn’t get a real
singing job on talent alone, but…” But what? It wasn’t like the thought hadn’t crossed her mind. Jacob was attracted to her. He hadn’t made that a secret, but he hadn’t done anything unscrupulous either. And the moment he did, she’d be gone. “Forget it. I don’t have to explain anything to you.” She stormed up the driveway, her heels clicking on the pavement, her breath coming in heavy sobs. Was that what everyone would think of her? What if it was somehow expected that she’d take up residence in Jacob’s luxury suite above the club? Maybe he thought it was just a matter of time before she ended up as his girlfriend, his mistress…whatever.

Maybe it was just a matter of time before her dream job became a nightmare.

*

The weight of his own stupidity kept Owen immobile just long enough for Claudia to navigate the long driveway toward the back of the house.

Seeing her stumble as she reached the stairs leading up to her apartment galvanized him. He jumped out of the car and jogged after her, clueless as to how to fix this mess he’d just created by allowing his jealousy rather than his brain to rule his mouth.

Clutching the chipped wooden banister with one hand, she waved off his assistance with the other. “I’m fine. Just go.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that you would—”

“That’s exactly what you implied. Do you think I’m that dumb or just that slutty?”
Her eyes glittered in the harsh glow of the porch light at the top of the stairs. Tears flashed like diamonds on her lashes.

The thought that he’d made her cry left Owen sick inside. This was not what he’d wanted. He put his hand over hers on the banister, halting her progress up the creaking stairs. “Do you want to know what I think of you?”

“Not really.” She looked away, chin jutting in defiance.

He plowed on, ignoring her petulant response. “I think you’re an angel. I think you’re perfect. You’re beautiful and talented and brilliant
, and that Larsen guy obviously sees all of that, but as soon as he realizes he’s not good enough for you, he’s going to—”

“An angel?” She was staring at him now, dumbfounded, tracks of drying tears framing her cheeks.

“Maybe he’s rich, but he’s nowhere near the same level as you. You’re so far above his league. Compared to you I’m just a—”

“You? Or him? Who are talking about, Owen?”

Owen looked away. He studied the old running shoes he wore beneath faded jeans. He’d never owned an expensive suit, never worn even a cheap one—except maybe to church when he was ten and his grandfather had passed away. He didn’t own a tie or a Rolex, and his car, though lovingly restored to perfect running order, was a junker he’d picked up at a police auction. There were no night clubs on his social calendar, no business partners to confer with, no stock portfolio. He managed a music store that he didn’t own, taught guitar to middle schoolers, and made extra money hunting down antique car parts for local hobbyists.

He couldn’t give Claudia what she wanted or needed, and he had no right to hate Jacob Larsen just because he had the money and the means to give her the life she deserved.

“Okay. I’m talking about me. You’re out of my league and you always have been, but that doesn’t mean
he’s
good enough for you.”

“Who said I’m out of your league?
” She stepped back to ground level, looming close enough to look him in the eye.

His pulse jumped, and the thudding beat sounded in his ears. This was it. If he didn’t say his piece now, he’d never be able to. “Come on. It’s obvious. You’re so much better than this place. You belong in New York City, making real money with people screaming your name and lining up just to hear you sing
. Just you. Do I want you to go? No. But—”

The rest of his confession was lost when her lips met his. She was in his arms, warm and supple and real, smelling like sultry wildflowers and tasting like cinnamon gum and forbidden delights.

Stunned by this sudden good fortune, Owen tightened his arms around her instinctively. If this was a dream, he wasn’t going to waste time trying to figure out how he’d gotten so lucky, he was just going to enjoy it.

Claudia moaned, a small
, sensual sound that had him reeling. He’d fantasized about this for so long but never thought it would happen because deep down he knew it could never work between them.

When she broke the kiss, he expected the entire world to just disappear in a puff of smoke like an illusion, but everything remained
—the cool autumn breeze, the moths fluttering in the glow of the porch light, the shadows of her lashes turning her sapphire eyes to midnight blue, and her gorgeous lips beckoning him.