Page 15 of Owen

Only he looks like he needs a hug.

Gregor interjects my thoughts. “Maybe you could cheer him up?” Snorting, he knows he’s winding me up.

“Shut up, Gregor,” I drawl as if bored with this conversation. “I’m not interested in getting involved with anyone. Especially not runaway grooms.”

“See you tomorrow, yeah? 6a.m. sharp.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Will you st?—”

Gregor interrupts me when he laughs. “Oh, I know, we’re not at work. No use of the wordma’am. See you tomorrow,Jade.”

I pinch my nose. “And so it begins.” I pretend to be annoyed when I secretly love the banter and fooling around.

“It’s great to have you back, Jade.” Gregor drops his voice. “I can’t wait to fly with you again. It’ll be an honor.”

A heavy lump forms in my throat. “Thanks, Gregor.” I barely get the words out. “Night, ma’am.” He hangs up before I can complain about him calling me that again.

Leaving the restrooms, I’m greeted by complete silence aside from the clatter of dishes from the kitchen.

On the other side of the restaurant, Owen is looking out the window across the darkened salt lake that was covered in a blanket of pale pink flamingos before the sun went down.

Alerted by my footsteps, he turns to face me. He drags his gaze down and then up my body, finally landing on my lips.

“I’m taking you home.” His Scottish voice is gruff. “The cab is waiting for us outside.”

“You should have gone with them,” I say, following him as he walks to the entrance, and every bit a gentleman, he opens the door for me.

“Not my thing,” he answers quickly, sounding honest.

I call back to the staff, wishing them a good night.

Nodding my head in thanks, I walk past Owen and I’m hit with a cocktail of his fresh dewy cologne, and the orange blossom from the surrounding trees that seem to be everywhere on this beautiful island.

No longer a light breeze, the now blustery wind catches me off guard, hiking the floaty skirt of my dress up, almost exposing me. Two things happen at once. I squeal at the unexpectedness and Owen appears directly in front of me to protect me from the worst of the strong wind.

With both hands, I reach out to grab hold of the uncooperative hem of my dress, trying to prevent an accidental pantie flash, bunching the fabric into my hand against my thigh.

I look up to find his wide, muscular frame towering over me by at least five inches.

For a split second, I swear time stands still, not caring when the strands of my hair free themselves from my bun and whip against the skin on my cheeks.

“Sorted?” he asks, capturing an unruly lock of my red hair, wrapping it around his thick pointer finger.

I nod jerkily, feeling suddenly nervous.

Dipping his head, he leans closer, inhaling deeply, then says, “You smell like?—”

“Good Girl,” I stutter, not feeling like my usual confident self.

A massive smile slowly spreads across his lips. “A good girl?” Humored, he lifts one eyebrow.

Justifying what I mean, I blurt out, “No, my perfume, it’s called Good Girl. I didn’t mean I’m a good girl, although I am because I’m not a bad girl. I can be but—” I kill my reel of rambling words, realizing what I am saying.

Just shut up, Jade.

He licks his lips before they make their way to my ear. “I quite like the thought of you being a bad girl.” I love how his Scottish accent rolls theRon the word “girl”. “Do you know you’re the most perfect woman I’ve ever seen?” His voice is low and husky, making me want to be a bad girl for him. “You’re beautiful.”

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