Page 10 of Caught in the Axe
“It was nice seeing you, Owen.”
As she walked out of the office, I couldn’t help but watch the sway of her shapely hips in a pair of jeans that molded to her ass perfectly. Then, with a shake of my head, I cursed myself, wishing I was back in Boston, where I was in total control.
Because there was no denying it. I was now lusting after my little brother’s ex-girlfriend.
Chapter 4
Lila
Owen Hebert. Cole’s older brother.
Huh.
I flipped the switch on the coffee machine and reached for a small stack of napkins to deliver to table six.
I’d tossed and turned for hours last night, replaying our meeting in my head. The whole thing had been strange and unsettling. Granted, I hadn’t seen the guy in years, and throughout the majority of my relationship with Cole, he had alternated between ignoring Owen’s existence and talking about what a selfish asshole he was.
In my mind, he was a cruel, money-grubbing city guy. Like Patrick Bateman without the murder, or a younger, hotter Ebenezer Scrooge.
But the man who’d sat with me, asking thoughtful questions and explaining the intricacies of the timber business, wasn’t an asshole. Sure, the Italian shoes and blingy watchmade it obvious that he had expensive taste, but he was a lot more humble than I expected.
He was calm and collected, despite the defeat and exhaustion that emanated from him. It was easy to see the situation with his family’s business weighed on him.
His thick, medium-brown hair only made his dark blue eyes more prominent, and the light peppering of gray at his temples made him look distinguished. He carried himself with quiet confidence, though he wasn’t cocky. He wasn’t overly chatty, from what I could tell by our interaction, or from what I remembered, but he communicated effectively. I’d taken five pages of notes during our quick conversation, and the to-do list I’d started for myself was growing by the second.
Though I didn’t agree with Cole’s opinion of his second oldest brother, I could understand why he disliked him. It was obvious that Owen was the antithesis of Cole. He was steady, careful, and strategic, whereas Cole was impulsive and brash. He had a habit of ignoring consequences and plowing headfirst toward whatever he wanted. Once, I’d adored that side of him. The devil-may-care attitude and his insistence that life should be fun had been exciting. But the years had worn on me, and I’d grown tired of being the only adult in our relationship.
Owen was the kind of guy who maxed out his annual 401(k) contributions, flossed daily, and took vitamins. He was the type of person I would have run screaming from ten years ago. Now? I found myself drawn to him and his steady, self-assured energy.
“What did you do to your hair? You used to be such a pretty girl.”
I tamped down on my annoyance and forced myself to smile as I topped off Mrs. Dupont’s coffee. She’d always been a shitty tipper, but hey, maybe today would be my lucky day and she’d actually throw me more than a few pennies.
With a hum that I hoped conveyed a light, breezy attitude, I touched the ends of my shoulder-length brown hair. “Oh, just felt like making a change.”
Karen Souza gave me a pitiful expression while stroking her own artificially blond locks. She was the police chief’s wife and the epicenter of the Lovewell gossip scene.
I’d been waiting on her and her bridge club every Friday morning for the last year, and every week, like clockwork, she’d get in some kind of dig at me. Once a judgmental old bat, always a judgmental old bat. And my hair was lovely, thank you very much. I’d gone back to my natural color, and the cut was low maintenance, just the way I liked it.
She could fuck right off with her patriarchal beauty standards. Secretly, I’d love to go off on her and the other small-minded jerks who gave small towns a bad name.
But I wasn’t that kind of woman. The instinct to please ran wide and deep. So instead of telling her what I really thought, I complimented Mrs. Dupont’s scarf and headed back to the kitchen, mentally cursing the whole table of women from here to Montreal.
And I reminded myself that I was lucky to be here. I got my pick of the best shifts and the best tables, andthe job was an easy, enjoyable one. Though Bernice and Louis, technically my great-aunt and uncle, threw me as many shifts as they could, I wasn’t rolling in cash. The diner was hardly a big operation, and the tips weren’t going far enough thesedays. But the flexibility of my schedule allowed me a couple of free afternoons a week to tutor the kids of Lovewell at the library.
Sadly, that was not paying the bills either. In Tampa, I’d been able to charge fifty dollars an hour, but up here, even twenty dollars was a stretch for most families.
At this rate, I’d never be able to start grad school.
I shook my head. Nope, I was not going there. Every day was an opportunity to grow, and good things were coming.
Holding tight to that positivity, I headed back to the kitchen to grab the next order.
The sun was shining, and I had a lot to do. I could not spend every waking moment thinking about Owen Hebert and his big hands and kind eyes. Nope. Not doing it.
I was resolved to push all thoughts of the man aside, and I was doing a fine job of it until four giants walked through the door and various heads turned.
Excellent, the Heberts were here.
