Page 33 of That Stranded Feeling
I slide the thong up my legs. Might as well throw them on, in case he fancies an extra special goodbye.
Oh hell, I’m going to go all in and add the matching bra.
Black yoga pants, black T-shirt, and a cream open-front cardigan—I made it for one of Alastair’s mom’s friends but didn’t get to hand it over before he dumped me—and that’s a pretty good straight-out-of-bed look.
I open the bedroom door and pause at the top of the stairs as Owen says, “Yeah, I got lucky. It’s like a little hippie cabin in the woods.”
My heart clenches and a chill runs through me. Did he just put me in the same hippie category as his parents?
The parents he resents for ruining his childhood. The parents he worked his ass off to escape. The parents whose lifestyle he loathed so much he created an exact opposite one for himself.
I tug at the lacy bra digging into my side and make my way down the stairs.
Owen sits at the breakfast bar, ear pods in, talking to someone on his laptop.
“Thanks for catching me up.” His eyes flick toward me, and he shoots me a quick smile. “I’ll do some more research until the road’s cleared, then I’ll give you a shout when I’m on my way. And get Max to stop sending me messages telling me how irresponsible I am for not being there yet. It wasn’t my fault.”
He pauses, presumably while Elliot speaks.
“Yeah, I’m okay. Apart from the part where I foolishly didn’t book a driver, got a shitty rental car, and took a wrong turn. Anyway, Max needs to stop acting like he’s the head of the family rather than just the oldest cousin.”
He pauses and listens again before wrapping up.
“Okay, later.” He salutes the screen, hangs up, and pulls out the ear pods.
If he hadn’t called my home a hippie cabin, my bra would be undoing itself at the sight of him perched on the stool, knees apart, jeans hugging his thighs, and white T-shirt tight across his shoulders, biceps, and chest. The chest that not long ago I’d been using as a pillow.
My blood surges with lust, while my stomach drops like a stone from hurt, and my brain tells me Owen’s an ass who just put me down. My body is very confused right now.
The room is toasty warm from the fire. He’s done a good job on that again, and there’s another new stack of logs piled up on the hearth.
“Morning.” His dimply grin and sparkly eyes say he’s pleased to see me. And there’s a fresh energy about him I haven’t seen before.
I’d like to think a night of hot, naked action with me has given him a new reason for living. But it’s more likely because he was finally able to chat with Elliot and is a step closer to getting out of here.
He bounds off the stool, moves in close, and strokes my upper arms.
“We have internet. No cell service yet.” He drops an affectionate kiss on my forehead. “But internet is fine. I’m surprised it’s this good out here.”
I stand motionless as he goes back to the laptop which must have come out of the large, artfully distressed, brown leather duffel at his feet.
“Yeah.” I finally manage. “Who’d have thought we might have decent internet out here in Hippieville. Our mail isn’t delivered by pigeons any more either.”
He stares at his screen and nods, presumably agreeing to whatever he wasn’t listening to me say.
My eyes scan the room. “Where’s Elsa?”
He taps the computer keys. “By the fire.”
“No, she’s not.”
I walk into the living area and all the way around the couch in case she’s lying out of sight at the end of it.
My heart rate rises. This isn’t right.
She would have noticed me by now and run over to say a waggy good morning.
“Owen,” I snap to get his attention. “Whereis she?”
