Page 36 of Stunner (Whiskey Dolls 3)

“Colorful imagery there, sis,” I grumbled, hating the fact that she was probably right and I didn’t have any type of defense against it.

She gave me a look that only mothers could pull off, equal parts disappointed and chastising. “This isn’t the time to be glib, Owen,” she scolded, making me feel even lower than I already did. “You let that bastard get in your head, and now you’re screwing everything up. You need to fix this before it’s too late.”

My chest grew tight as anxiety spilled into my bloodstream, making my heart start to beat faster.

“Fuck,” I groaned, closing my eyes and pinching the bridge of my nose. “You’re right.”

“Of course I am,” Hardin cried like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Shit, Hard. I’ve been blowing her off for three days. What should I do? How the hell am I supposed to fix this?”

“Well, you could start by responding to her text messages,” she said dryly. “I’d kick things off by begging forgiveness, then dive right into the fact that you’re a world class idiot.”

I snatched my phone up just as someone knocked on my front door.

“I’ll get that,” Hardin offered. “You work on crafting the perfect text.”

She hopped off the stool and started for the front door while I snatched up my phone and stared at the screen, silently willing the perfect words to form out of thin air. Then I heard it.

“Why the hell are you ghosting me, you son of a—Oh. You aren’t Owen.”

“No,” my sister replied, the smile clear as day in her voice. “I’m not. But please, come on in.”

Well shit. Looked like that text wouldn’t be necessary after all.

17

ASHER

After my call went to voicemail, I’d decided it was time to take drastic measures. I’d spent the entire drive over to Owen’s apartment psyching myself up, planning out exactly how I was going to let that jerk have it the moment I saw his stupid, sexy, perfectly chiseled face. I’d been so wrapped up in delivering my opening flawlessly that I hadn’t been paying attention to who was standing in front of me.

“Why the hell are you ghosting me, you son of a—” The insult dried up on my tongue as soon as I lifted my head and saw it wasn’t Owen who’d answered the door. “Oh. You aren’t Owen.”

Hardin Shields’s face split into a shit-eating grin as she stepped to the side and waved me into her brother’s apartment. “No, I’m not. But please, come on in.”

“Uh...” I stood frozen in place, trying to figure out what the hell to do next since the speech I’d prepared on the way over had just flown right out of my brain like a caged bird spotting an open window and making a break for it.

“Get your cute butt in here, already,” Hardin insisted when it became obvious my feet were glued to the ground beneath me. She reached out and grabbed my hand, giving me no choice but to move. There was no hiding the flood of heat in my cheeks orneck, making my skin burn red with embarrassment as I stepped across the threshold, but I wasn’t going to let it deter me. I was here for a confrontation, and I was damn well going to have one.

My gaze bounced around the living area, landing first on the adorable little girl snoozing on the couch, her arms and legs sprawled wide, making her look like a starfish, while her lips were parted and pursed, allowing the cutest little snores through.

“Oh my God, is that your daughter?” I asked Hardin, clasping my hands in front of my chest. “She’s even more precious in person.”

Hardin smiled down at her little girl, looking at her like she was the whole reason for her survival. “Yeah, well, that’s because she’s sleeping. When she’s awake she’s a tiny little terror.”

“Asher.”

I looked up at the sound of Owen’s husky, masculine voice and proceeded to choke on an unexpected bubble of laughter. “Oh my God.”

“Yeah,” Hardin snickered. “Like I said, she’s cute as a button, but a holy terror. Uncle Owen knows all about that.”

I tried to stifle my laughter at the sight of Owen, resulting in a loud snort. “Oh, God,” I said through an uncontrollable giggle. “God, I’m so sorry. It’s just, I’m not sure that glittery blue eyeshadow is really your color. But the hot pink lipstick really works.”

Hardin lost it at that, bending at the waist beside me and clutching her stomach as she laughed hysterically.

Owen’s eyes went big, like he’d only just remembered he’d gotten a makeover from hell. “Fucking hell,” he grunted, followed by, “Give me just a minute.” He started toward his bedroom only to stop directly in front of me. “I’ll be right back,” he stressed, those springtime eyes of his beseeching as he added, “Don’t go anywhere.” Then he stormed off in the direction of hisbedroom, slamming the door behind him, leaving me standing there as millions of butterflies rioted in my belly.

The slam of the door was loud enough to wake the little makeup artist from her slumber, and she sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She spotted her mom and her entire face lit up. “Mommy!” she cried, launching herself off the couch. “You’re here!”

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