Page 15 of Single Girl in the City
She thought long and hard. Her mission was simple: fix her mess without getting personally invested. The less involved she became with the Eastons, the better the odds for success. Success in making his life easier and success in walking away unscathed when it was over.
“If I go inside, will you promise you won’t bring up my sister or have some need to talk it out?”
“Not a problem,” he said. “What’s it going to be, Angel?”
Blowing into her hands for warmth, she stomped her feet to get the circulation going and pushed out a breath. “Fine, but only because I wouldn’t want to worry your mom.”
She sucked in a breath as she walked by, so as not to brush any of his good parts. Understanding what she was doing, the corners of his lips twitched. When he didn’t budge, except to move a tiny step into her path, she put her hands on his chest to give him a shove. Only her brain malfunctioned and her hands froze—right there on his amazing pecs.
His gaze went from her hands to her eyes—and held steady. The exact opposite of what her heart was doing—which was racing like it was in the Tour de France. But it was what was happening beneath her hands that troubled her.
One touch and it was like steel wool to a battery—sparks.
She expected him to grin, but she saw only genuine surprise in his eyes, quickly followed by a flash of conflict, and she knew he was about as excited over their chemistry as she was.
Chapter Five
Happy Things:
Bulging biceps with tattoos
Abi sat at a stool eyeballing the menu. Wow, she was racking up the lies. She was pretending to study the menu while secretly watching Owen do his thing. And he did it well. So well, nearly every woman in the bar was watching him with rapt focus.
With his easy confidence and charming demeanor, he had them waiting with bated breath. His every move was cataloged, his glances speculated, everyone wondering who would capture his attention—everyone hoping it would be them.
Abi wasn’t wondering. In fact, she was doing her best to put that momentary palm-to-pecs lapse in judgment behind her.
For a guy she’d gone out of her way to watch from afar, she was sure getting her up close and personal time with him. Which was why when he looked her way she glanced around the room as if searching for her sister, who was at least another ten minutes out.
The gastropub was large, with a bar taking up one side and dining on the other. The space still had the original exposed brick walls and copper pipes with silver ducting of a turn of the century canning factory. But the bar, with its copper countertop and backlit glass shelving, brought a sleek, modern feel. Then there were massive accordion glass doors that opened onto the street, giving a stunning view of the upscale Pearl District neighborhood.
Next door was Sip Me, the tea shop where Abi worked. The tea shop she’d applied to so she could watch Owen in his natural habitat, gauge how Teen Abi’s decision had affected Adult Owen’s life. From what she could tell, while he loved his family’s bar, he was also exhausted.
“Hello, ladies.”
Abi looked over to find Owen taking in a group of women who appeared to be former sorority sisters. With the exception of the bride-to-be, who was in white and a veil, the bridal party was dressed in matching teal sashes that readbridal brigade.
“Congratulations.” Owen rested his arms on the bar and leaned in. “There is one lucky bastard out there,” he said, and even the bride smiled. “Now, what can I get you ladies. Wait.” He turned to address the blonde one who looked like Marilyn Monroe gone wild. Sexy, sultry, a real bombshell with enough curves to make an hourglass jealous. “Let me guess.”
“Okay.”
“First off, I’m Owen. What’s your name?”
“Olivia. Olivia Rhodes.” The woman actually giggled.
“Do you go by Olivia or Liv?”
“Olivia by day, Liv by night. Kind of like Batwoman.”
“Okay, Liv, I think you’re a classic. Elegant and to be savored, like a martini. But you also have a party side that likes to come out and blow off steam.” He snapped his fingers as if he were some back-alley magician. “Vodka martini. Extra dirty.”
“Oh my god!” Monroe put her hand to her heaving chest and looked to the girls and back to Owen. “How did you know?”
“It’s my thing.”
Abi snorted. It must have carried from her mouth to Owen’s ears because, even though he was filling the shaker, he glanced her way. More like caught her gaze and locked in, holding her hostage. Then he winked. She winked back. Although hers was more of apuh-lease.
He laughed and the Bridal Brigade joined in. Not that they knew why they were laughing, they just couldn’t help themselves. He was the kind of man who had that effect on women.
