Page 7 of Single Girl in the City
She took off her bright red nose. “Today is Lauren’s eighth birthday and Princess Jasmine canceled last minute.”
“That was rude of her.”
“The other princesses all have plans, so it’s Winkie to the rescue. And before you make some comment about Winkie, know that this was the only costume left.”
“Is Lauren your niece?”
“No. My niece is more of a Maleficent or Cruella kind of kid.”
“My niece is more of a Sugar Plum Fairy with Angelina Ballerina thrown in. She made all five of us uncles dress up in ballerina costumes for her birthday,” he said, and a good portion of that attitude of hers washed away.
“There are five of you?”
Wasn’t that a refreshing question? With two rather famous brothers and his oldest brother being the recently elected district attorney, most people in Portland knew more about his family than he did.
“There were six of us, but my younger brother passed away a few years back.” The accident had devastated his entire family. All these years later and they were all still reeling. That the accident came on the heels of losing their dad only made the loss harder to digest. Some days, it felt as if Owen were still trying to put his life back together, only he didn’t have all the pieces.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Loss is devastating.”
“How about you?”
“I have half-siblings. A sister and two brothers,” she said, her eyes once again glued out the windshield.
“Are you close?”
For the first time, she looked his way. “Define close?”
He and his brothers were so close sometimes Owen felt suffocated. There was no such thing as privacy or personal space. And keeping a secret was damn near impossible. “My brothers are as pushy and as gossipy as a bunch of biddies at bingo.” Not that Owen was exempt from poking his nose into everyone’s business. It was almost an Easton family tradition.
“In my family, we try to avoid each other’s business. Like thenever mix business with pleasurekind of relationships.”
That sounded—lonely.
“I guess I’m the closest with my older sister,” she went on. “She’s letting me stay with her until I find my own place.”
He looked her way, those light brown eyes locked on his and—bang—there was that flicker of attraction. He’d noticed the way she’d abandon the cash register to make his drink every time he came into her shop as if avoiding him. Hell, it was so obvious that everyone noticed, including her coworkers who always rolled their eyes at Abi’s disappearing act. Which he found interesting.
“What brought you to Portland?” he asked, and just like that, her shoulders tensed, her eyes skittered away, and she directed all her attention to her phone.
“We’re here.” She pointed to a painted brownstone on the opposite side of the street. Pink streamers and twinkle lights twisted around the porch railings and a big birthday banner hung on the front door.
He’d barely turned the engine off when she shot out of the car, a flurry of ruffles and balloons. Bending at the waist, she gripped the side of the door like she was about to tumble over. He was pretty sure she was going to be sick. Which made him wonder if she’d really gotten past the panic in the parking lot or if she’d put on some show for his sake.
“You okay?”
She held up a finger, and quietly mumbled, “I love balloons and unicorns and red dahlias. Bouquet of dahlias.” He wasn’t sure what a dahlia was, but he suspected it was the red flowers lining the yard of the brownstone. “I love solid ground where the speed limit is two miles per hour with no need for grab handles.”
“You sure you’re okay?”
She looked up and gave a bright, fake-as-shit smile. “Never been better. Oh, and you don’t have to wait. I can ride to work from here. Plus, I have to stop by my sister’s first.”
“I’m a full-service kind of guy.”
“Does that line work for you?”
“You tell me, since you’re the one blushing.”
“It’s called frostbite.”
