Page 83 of Single Girl in the City
After two months of good deeds, Abi’s time as Portland’s professional Good Samaritan was coming to a close. Not that she was going to give up good-deeding forever, she still had a long way to go to make amends, but now that she’d come clean with Owen, she was giving up the official title.
Owen had a full life now. Or at least he was headed in the right direction.
She’d played an important part in capturing Owen’s new freedom and happiness—and he was happy. The real kind of happy that ate away at the weight he’d been carrying. He was letting people in, delegating responsibility, and reclaiming parts of his world that had been lost when his father had passed.
She’d been a part of that transformation, and that knowledge brought her joy. But tonight was their last night of bliss because it would mark the end of their agreed-upon week.
She wasn’t sure how tomorrow would play out, but she had faith that things would go how they were meant to. And if that included Owen wanting to abide by their agreement, then she’d grant him that last wish. Even though it would wreck her heart.
Abi smoothed her hands down her dress—the red dress she’d spent an hour rustling through Dotti’s closet to locate and three hours convincing her sister to let her borrow. The dress that made her waist look tiny and her boobs busty. She’d even managed to iron it without Lemon-Marieswoosh-swishing grape juice all over it.
Giving herself one last glance in the mirror, Abi opened the door, prepared to go downstairs and find Owen. Only when she stepped onto the landing there he was, looking handsome in a gray suit with blue shirt and tie, casually leaning against the railing. Legs crossed at the ankles, one hand in his pants pocket, the other holding a box.
“What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you.”
She looked at her watch, a delicate, vintage watch from the thirties that her grandma had left her. “But I’m fifteen minutes late.” She’d been at the senior center, leading her final book club, where the month’s pick wasFifty Shades of Grey,and the topic of conversation quickly turned to who would be the best in bed, Christian Grey or Mr.Darcy. It ended with Darcy winning nine to one.
His eyes tracked her from head to toe and every place in between, lingering every so often. Her body zinged in his wake.
“It was worth the wait.” He pushed off the railing. “You’re worth it.”
Unable to resist, she walked right up to him, slid her arms around his neck, and gave him a kiss. A long, deep, lingering, this-is-a-proper-date kind of kiss that kicked her hormones into hyperdrive.
Arms around her waist, hands resting indecently low on her back, he tugged her to him and—sweet Lord above—talk about leaving her breathless.
“I missed you,” he whispered against her lips.
“I just left your bed a few hours ago.”
“A few hours is too long.”
She had to agree. Mr.Darcy didn’t have a thing on Owen Easton.
He looked at her for a long moment. “I have something for you. I don’t know if it’s old fashioned or if you’d even like it. But if it’s not your thing I won’t be offended.”
She loved this shy and vulnerable side of him. It was the same boyish charm she’d felt at the tattoo shop. She tightened her arms around his waist. “I already know I’ll love it.”
He stepped back and opened a small white box and Abi’s breath caught. Inside was a stunning corsage made from red dahlias, just like the ones at Lauren the birthday girl’s house, that she’d listed as one of her happy things. He slid it on her wrist and shoved his hands in his pockets, nervously rocking back on his heels.
She brushed a finger over the petals. “Owen, it’s beautiful.”
“My dad used to give my mom a corsage whenever he’d take her on a date.” He shrugged. “My dad was a pro at making my mom feel special, so I figured I’d take a note from the old man.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, completely taken aback by the gesture and by the sentiment behind it. She meant enough to him that he’d kept the family tradition alive for her. She took his hand in hers and placed it over her racing heart. “You make me feel special.”
His hand slid up her neck, his fingers cradling the base of her neck. “You are special. To me, you are becoming more and more special as each day goes on.” He went quiet, completely still as if he was weighing something in his mind. “Stay with me.”
She had to take a beat. “Tonight?”
“For a start,” he said. “But I meant tomorrow night and the next.”
“What happened to only a week?” Her heart thumped in her chest as she waited for his answer.
“I was an idiot,” he said, running his thumb over her lower lip. “An annoyingly smart man recently told me that if I didn’t want to lose you, I needed to find something to make you want to stay.” He laced her arms around his neck, sliding his hands down to her hips. “I know you want to travel, just like I know that I’m stuck here at the bar, which sometimes I love and other times I resent. I’m a workaholic, grumpy, unwavering, and usually stubborn as hell.”
“You’re selling points are really hitting home,” she teased. “How long will you want me to stay?”How long will you want me?
