Page 229 of Worthy

I pause at the crosswalk, waiting for it to change so I can get to the parking garage and grab my car. The place we ate at isn’t far from the office so I decided to just walk. I glance around, not really looking at anything when I spot what I think is a very familiar-looking man. Owen. I smile, wanting to cross the street and go to him. He must have been having dinner near the office too. Looking around, I don’t see his dad and my insides melt with excitement. Maybe his dad’s gone already and we can have a little nightcap. Who really needs sleep anyway.

I lift my hands, about to cup my mouth and yell out when a woman comes up behind him, looping her arm around his. He turns to her, a smile crossing his lips before he speaks, and I wish I was closer so I could hear what they were saying. Her head tilts back as she laughs at whatever he said before she stands up on her tiptoes, pressing a kiss to his cheek—my cheek.

My heart starts pounding and all the blood drains from my face at the movement. I expect him to shove her off, to break her hold on his arm, only he doesn’t. He just smiles down at her as they talk more. I don’t wait to see what happens next. Thankfully, the crosswalk light is still blinking and I make my way across the lane on autopilot.

He lied to me? He said he was going out with his dad and colleagues. Considering I’ve never seen that woman before I’m seriously doubting she was a colleague. My stomach heaves as my mind runs through all the possibilities. It’s Owen. I know him. He wouldn’t lie to me. I know it. There’s got to be some explanation.

Once I’m in my car, I pull out my phone, needing to text him.

Me: Hey, how’s dinner going with your dad?

I wait for a reply, my leg bouncing anxiously. Fuck, I shouldn’t feel like this. It’s only been a week and we aren’t even exclusive. Thoughts of Trevor start spinning through my head, but I shut it down quickly. Owen isn’t like Trevor. He can’t be. My phone pings, pulling me from my thoughts. Opening my messages I try to not overanalyze his reply.

Owen: Dinner with my father went fine. As expected. How’s your night going?

Me: It’s going. Just had dinner with Jess. Did the colleagues show?

I’m fishing for details, wanting to know who that woman was, and hoping he’ll tell me.

Owen: They did. Nothing special. It was boring.

Me: Anyone I know?

Subtle, Lance.

Owen: Just Russel.

Uh, but who was the girl?

Me: Okay, well, I’m about to drive home. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.

Owen: Be safe driving, let me know you made it home safely, please.

He’s so sweet. There’s no way he’s lying. No way he’s with that girl. I know him, even before we were sleeping together. He’s a good man. He has integrity. If he was with someone he’d have told me. I know it. I’ll talk to him about this tomorrow. It has to be a misunderstanding.

It has to be.

Chapter eight

Owen

When my father called me yesterday and told me Russel and Annabel were flying down a few days earlier than expected I almost lost my damn mind. I forgot all about that stupid dinner, especially with everything that’s been happening with Lance lately.

Lance. Just the thought of him makes my heart kick up and my head spin. It’s so insane and seems impossible but I’m falling for him already. That’d be my luck though right? The first guy I’m with I fall head over heels for. That’s okay. I’m happy with it. I plan on asking him today how he feels about making this a more permanent thing. I don’t know how he’ll take it, but I don’t want him to be some secret I have to hide. I want to show him off.

A knock sounds on my door and I frown, glancing at the clock. That should be Lance but he never knocks. “Come in,” I call out, expecting it to be someone else, only it’s not. Lance comes striding through the door, but he doesn’t even look at me, his eyes hyper-focused on his tablet. He sits and immediately begins spewing off a thousand things to me. It’s all said so fast that I don’t even catch half of it. Then he stands and begins to walk to the door like he’s about to leave.

Hold up? What the hell is happening?

I advance on him, putting my hand up to stop him from opening the door. He sighs but doesn’t look at me, just closes his eyes and leans his forehead against the door. I’m confused so I spin him around to look at me.

“Hey, what’s going on?” I’m worried about the answer. Maybe he’s tired of me. Maybe he doesn’t want to do this anymore. The thought causes my panic to flare.

“Nothing,” he says too quickly, eyes wide as he looks at me. “I just need to get to work.”

“Come on, tell me. What’s going on?” I reach up, cupping his face and running my thumbs across his cheekbones. “Talk to me.”

His eyelashes flutter under my touch and I know he feels this too. This connection we have.

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