Page 18 of The Kissing Part
The next three nights are, unfortunately, more of the same with Owen. Every time I try to make the conversation more personal, he shuts it down. I’ve been cooking dinner for him every night as part of mylook, I’ve changedplan. (I didn’t know how to cook when I was younger.) I heard the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, but that is not the case with Owen. He wolves down his food and retreats to his room, shutting the door behind him.
As much time as we spend together, basically twenty-four seven, the distance between us feels greater than ever. I might as well be back in LA for all he notices me. The only time he speaks is in answer to a direct question or to fill me in on my security status. At least his constant presence has kept Matt away. Probably the steely-eyed stare Owen gives to our surroundings at all times.
We’re settled in for another silent night back at the hotel suite, so I text him from the living room.You’re the best bodyguard I could ask for.
Multiple texts come back.
Owen:Don’t get used to it.
Has your assistant found anyone good?
Where the hell is she, anyway?
Owen’s mad it’s taking so long for Olivia to get here. Probably because he doesn’t want to be alone with me.
I sigh and walk over to his bedroom door, talking through it. “I told you she’ll be here on Sunday. She has her niece’s birthday party on Saturday. I do let my employees have a personal life.”
“Not me.”
“That was your choice.” I clench my jaw. “Take the day off tomorrow. Your sister and cousin will be here. That’s plenty to scare off Matt.”
The door swings open, and we’re suddenly up close and personal. I suck in air, every part of my body heating at the sight of Owen in a snug T-shirt and shorts. His skin’s sort of glowing. I wonder if he was working out in there.
“You didn’t tell me they’d be here,” he says. “You’re supposed to keep me updated on your schedule. We have a shared calendar.”
“Sorry, I’m not used to updating a calendar. Olivia keeps on top of stuff like that for me.”
He stares at me for a moment before saying, “Guess you’re still close with them.”
“Yeah. I love your family and all the get-togethers we had in Clover Park. It was the happiest summer of my life.”
His jaw clenches. “I’ll be in the lounge downstairs while they’re here.” He takes a step back and shuts the door in my face.
“We’ll miss you!” I yell through the door.Not.
Silence.
I barely resist kicking the door. Forget a second chance with him. I don’t know what I was thinking. The man is a stone wall, no humor, no warmth. This is not the Owen Campbell I remember.
I head back to the sofa and turn on the TV to the cooking channel. A text pings on my phone.
Owen:Mackenzie and Harper won’t miss me. I see them all the time. Guess it’s you.
My pulse flutters. He’s reaching out! Finally!
Me:I missed you a lot over the years. I never forgot you.
I hold my breath. Three dots appear while he’s typing.
They disappear.
I’ve said too much. Dammit. I’ve always been an emotional person prone to sharing too soon. That’s why acting is such a great outlet for me. This must be the problem with all of my relationships. I say how I feel, and the other person doesn’t feel the same way, so they back off. Or they feel more strongly than I do, and I have to let them down gently.
Let’s face it, no one’s ever lived up to my memory of Owen.
Maybe Mackenzie and Harper can help me understand the man he is today.
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