Page 14 of Forbidden Fruit (Sweet Treats 7)

6

Kristy

We’re in the man’s hotel room, luxuriating in complimentary bathrobes while lounging on the couch.

“You look funny,” I giggle. “The bathrobe is so white and puffy.”

His black brows arch.

“Oh really?” he asks. “You look delicious in it. By the way, sweetheart, I’m Owen. And you are …?”

I blush. Oh my god, we’ve already made love, and yet we haven’t exchanged names.

“I’m Kristy,” I manage in a somewhat normal voice. “Nice to meet you, Owen.”

His blue eyes gleam.

“Same, sweetheart. How do you feel? Are you okay with everything?”

I blush again. Oh my gosh, I can’t believe so much has happened. I was supposed to lose my virginity to Ryder, but instead I’ve lost it to Owen! Plus, I only just met Owen literally thirty minutes ago. Who does that? What girl goes buck wild the way I have?

But even as my cheeks flare, my insides go hot. This man is gorgeous, and I don’t regret what we did at all. He’s huge and imposing, with broad shoulders and bright blue eyes. He dwarves the hotel’s sofa, and I feel reassured and protected in his vicinity.

But where is this coming from? I don’t know him. I guess it’s the way Owen takes care of me and makes me feel treasured and cherished. After we finished making love, I was flushed, panting, and practically spineless on the hotel floor. But he helped me get dressed again, and then escorted me to the elevator before whisking me up to his room.

We’re here now, enjoying some tea and cookies from room service while getting to know one another.

“So why were you at the hotel tonight?” I ask lightly, trying to keep things simple. “You were wearing a tux. Was it a wedding?”

Owen glances at the crumpled heaps of our clothes and lets out a low laugh.

“No, not exactly,” he says. “I was here for a ceremony, but it wasn’t a wedding. It did have to do with my daughter though.”

“You have a daughter?” I ask with surprise. “Oh really? How old is she?”

Owen looks at me closely for a moment, and I go warm as those blue eyes caress my curves.

“Maybe around your age. How old are you, Kristy?”

“Eighteen,” I smile. “It was my birthday a few months ago.”

Owen, to my surprise, looks relieved.

“That’s good. I’m glad to know you’re legal, sweetheart, and yes, my daughter June is eighteen too. She had her birthday a couple weeks ago, in fact. Do you know each other? She goes to Summerdale High a few towns over.”

I shake my head, scrunching my brow.

“No, I don’t know anyone named June at Summerdale. But I’m sure if I ask around, some of my friends will know. Our community is pretty small, and we live in neighboring towns too. But were you here for a school event? Or a family reunion? I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry,” I say quickly, seeing the uncomfortable look on his face. “You don’t have to say if you don’t want to.”

Owen takes a deep breath, like he’s thinking about something. Then he meets my eyes and the deep blue gaze tugs at my heart.

“Kristy, I want to start off right with you. I want to be straight, even if you hate me afterwards.”

My brow scrunches.

“Hate you? But what could be so bad?”

He shakes his head while looking down. That handsome face looks conflicted, but then the sapphire gaze meets mine once again.

“I was here because my daughter was being initiated,” he says slowly. “It’s a rite of passage for girls who are eighteen.”

I brighten.

“Oh yeah, I know about that. Like a debutante ball, right? Where the girls swan about in white dresses with elbow-length gloves? That’s why you were wearing a tux, wasn’t it?”

Owen looks conflicted again.

“Sort of like a debutante ball, but not really,” he says. “I belong to a very exclusive group of sorts. It’s made of dads and their daughters, and June was being inducted into the club. Or at least she was supposed to be, before she ran off.”

My eyes go wide.

“Ran off? Really? But why?”

Owen looks uncomfortable again.

“Well, the club is very particular,” he begins. “Or rather, it serves a very specific purpose. It turns out that June wasn’t on board, and she didn’t want to do it, thus the running off.”

I scrunch my brow.

“But at the last minute?” I ask. “Why didn’t she say before, if she was uncomfortable?”

Owen shoots me a wry smile.

“I guess for the same reason brides get cold feet. It just builds and builds, and you don’t want to say anything because there are so many expectations. But that’s not the point. I wanted to tell you about this club because I want to be honest with you,” he reiterates again. “The club’s name is Dads and Daughters, and we’re a daughter swapping club. I’m a long-haul trucker, you see –”

---