5. Owen
CHAPTER 5
Owen
I t's been a week, and I can't stop thinking about Zoe’s mouth. The way she tipped her head back and parted those luscious lips for me. The way she'd felt in my arms with no masks between us.
I'm trying to keep things as professional as I possibly can, and her safety is my top priority, but there’s no stopping the thoughts every single time I see her.
There hasn't been another letter or sighting since last week, but the fear the last letter caused still clings to Zoe like a second skin.
I'd be lying if I said it didn't bother me in a way that isn’t strictly professional.
Of course, every case I work bothers me because of their nature, but this is Zoe . This is the kitten who blew my mind on the roof of my club, and then had me absolutely wild about her from every text we've exchanged since.
And now that I know her without any secret, mysterious restrictions? I only like her that much more.
I’d known she was smart the second I met her, but after watching her work and sharing so many amazing conversations with her, I know she’s absolutely brilliant. Her mind is a multifaceted thing, capable of offering advice and priceless council to the people who seek out her help.
And she genuinely loves helping people. The way she dedicates herself to her job, always improving her skill set is evidence enough of that.
That night on the roof, I’d been palpably attracted to her, the physical chemistry between us undeniable. And after that, with our back-and-forth texting, I fell for her personality, her sharp wit, and her sweet view of the world. Add that brilliant mind of hers on top of it all? She’s a trifecta of perfection.
I linger near the entryway to the building—my guard post at this time of day. Any second now, she’ll come walking through her office door, ready for me to walk her to her car. I always love the sight of her after a long day of work, her eyes shining in a beautiful combination of exhaustion and satisfaction of a job well done. And the sight of her—no matter if she’s dressed in heels and a skirt or comfortable sneakers and slacks—always takes my breath away.
“Just fed Gregory,” she says as she rounds the corner. “I’m pretty sure he missed you, but he wouldn’t admit it.”
I laugh. “Pretty sure that cat hates me, but he’ll warm up to me eventually. He almost let me pet him this morning.”
Zoe smiles at that, eying me where I stand stoically near the door. “You still opposed to me getting you a stool or a chair?” she asks, looking downright fuckable in a pair of tight black pants and a flowy white top.
“Yes, I am,” I answer, holding the door open for her. I stand behind her as she locks up. “I've told you countless times I'm not going to sit at the door like some bouncer collecting fees at a club.”
“I can't help it,” she says, walking toward her car parked next to mine in the lot—thankfully free of any letters. “I’d get bored standing there all day.”
“One, I don't stand there all day,” I answer. “While you're with clients, I do perimeter sweeps, check in with my contact who is trying to hunt down our subject, and then I study this case. And two,” I continue. “There's nothing boring about what I've been hired to do. And I promise you, it doesn't bother me to stand for long periods of time.”
“Okay, okay,” she says. “I get it. No chairs.” She lingers near her driver-side door, tilting her head as she looks up at me. “Are you hungry?”
“I could eat.”
“A friend of mine owns the best restaurant in Sweet Water. It's not far away. Do you want to eat dinner with me?”
“You want to have dinner together?” I ask, wanting to ensure I’m not dreaming the invitation up. I’ve only been trying to get her to have dinner with me for what feels like forever.
She chuckles softly, then shrugs. “Is that against the rules? I want to get you to know you a little better,” she says. “Better than I already know you.” Her eyes flare wide, the most beautiful flush dusting her cheeks. “I mean…better than the way I've gotten to know you through text.” She clenches her eyes shut, shaking her head before she looks at me again. “You’re basically stuck with me for the next six months, so maybe we can get to know each other for real?”
I smile down at her. Watching her get so flustered is absolutely adorable. “So this is a date?”
“I...maybe? I don't know.” She blows out a breath. “All I do know is…I enjoyed talking with you through text. I enjoyed talking to you in person that night. I want to get to know you better, now that there's no masks and no phones between us. I want to know more. Is that a bad thing?”
Warmth spreads through my chest, a confusing sensation cropping up there. “It's not a bad thing at all,” I answer. “Maybe a surprising thing. I'm used to people giving me a wide berth as opposed to trying to get closer.” I clear my throat. “I'd love to eat with you.”
“Great, you can follow me.” She dips into her car, and I hurry into mine, following her out of the parking lot.
She leads us to a quaint little restaurant I heard a lot about when I looked into Sweet Water—the small town mostly known for housing the NHL team, the Carolina Reapers. Which is funny, because I assumed celebrity athletes would want to be in the big city, but I can definitely see the appeal of small-town life.
The pace is slower here, and as Zoe leads me into the restaurant, she’s greeted by a pretty blonde woman in a chef's jacket who looks to be in the middle of an argument with a guy with black hair and almost as many tattoos as myself, though their little tiff seems playful enough.
“Zoe!” A dark-haired waitress wraps her in a hug before showing us to a little booth in the back of the restaurant. “It's been ages since you've been in.”
“Sorry, Anne, I’ve been slammed. I’ve missed you too,” Zoe says, then nods in the direction of a police officer drinking coffee at the bar. “How are you and Jim?”
“Happy, healthy, and sexy,” Anne answers with a grin, pulling a pad and pen out of her apron. “What can I get you two?” She pointedly looks at me then back to Zoe with questioning eyes.
Zoe laughs at her friend, and nods to me. “This is Owen,” she says. “The person my father hired as my security detail.”
“Oh! We've heard all about you,” Anne says to me. “Thanks so much for taking care of Zoe here. If I could get my hands on the piece of shit stalking her, I think you'd be out of a job. But even Jim can't track him down.”
I raise my brows at her forwardness, and nod with respect. “Glad to know that Zoe has plenty of eyes looking out for her.”
And that’s the damn truth. The more people we have on the lookout for this guy, the quicker we'll find him and put an end to it.
Not that I want to go back to taking random assignments and running the club an hour away from here, not being able to see Zoe every day. The reason behind my ability to see her every day needed to end, but I didn’t want our time together to end as well. I need to sort that shit out quick.
Anne gives us a couple of minutes to check out the menu, and we both quickly put in our orders before Anne winks at Zoe and heads off.
“So, Owen,” Zoe asks after Anne brings us two iced teas. “How did you get into this line of work?”
I take a quick drink before setting it down. “It's kind of a long story,” I say, tilting my head. “But the summary is…I'm military. I worked in an intelligence unit in the Air Force before moving to special OPS. After I spent some time overseas, I decided to separate instead of reenlist. I needed a change of scenery and pace. That's when I bought the club I met you at, and I do private jobs like this on a contract basis.”
Recognition clicks in her eyes. “You said you knew the owner,” she says, chuckling. She shakes her head. “And you protect people as a side hustle? That sounds like an adventurous life.”
I shrug, glancing around the restaurant and noticing more than a few of the patrons giving me the side eye. I can’t really blame them, I’m a newcomer into their tight-knit town, and I practically take up this entire side of the booth, not to mention I have ink for days.
“How did you get into your gig?” I ask after Anne has brought us our food. “Is it something you’ve always been interested in?”
Zoe nods after taking a quick bite of her chicken. “I've always been fascinated by the mind and helping people, so being a psychologist sort of fit that bill. Plus, my dad had been in politics my entire life, and I knew for a fact I didn't want to go that direction. So, I focused on school and after I started treating my first few patients, I realized it was a job I'd love to do the rest of my life. I bought my practice two years later and have been working on my own ever since.”
“That's a seriously impressive accomplishment,” I say, after taking a bite of my steak, which is cooked to perfection. Zoe wasn't wrong about this place being off the charts.
“Thank you,” she says. “I’m really proud of it. I love going to work…” Her voice trails off, her shoulders drooping.
“Or you did,” I finish for her. “Before an ex-patient crossed lines.” I sigh. “Have you been able to feel even slightly better? Now that I’m there?”
“Definitely,” she says. “I wish I would’ve taken my dad up on it sooner,” she continues. “Not just because of how much better I feel about going in to work now…but because then I would’ve met you sooner.”
I smile at that. “True,” I say. “But, we wouldn’t have had all those delightfully interesting text conversations.”
She blushes, taking another bite. “Speaking of,” she says after swallowing. “You mentioned a friend who works at the club with you. Is he also the friend that’s helping you on this case?”
I nod. “Caleb,” I say. “He was in my unit when we were in the Air Force. He separated a year after me and moved out here to work with me.”
“You two must be close.”
“We’ve been through our fair share of shit shows,” I say. “I give him a lot of grief, but he’s like a brother to me. He’s also a genius with computers, so when I work cases like this, he’s a priceless asset to have on my side.” I shake my head. “When you meet him, don’t tell him I said that.”
Her eyebrows raise. “Is he coming out here to ask me questions about the case?”
“No,” I answer. “I mean when I introduce you to him.”
Zoe smiles. “You want me to meet your best friend?”
Fuck. “He already knows about you,” I say, giving her an apologetic look. “I texted you a lot from the club. I don’t do that… ever , so he asked.”
“Wow,” she says, grinning as she shifts in her seat. “I clearly told my friends about you too,” she says, glancing at Anne across the restaurant.
I can’t help but wonder what all she told them about me before she actually knew who I was. “Hopefully good things,” I say.
“ All good things.”
We spend the rest of the meal unpacking more of the previously mysterious and vague texts we’ve sent before, and we continue talking well into the evening. Past dessert and coffee, up until Anne tells us they're about to close.
I grab the tab, and lead Zoe out of the little restaurant, walking her back to her car.
We linger there for just a moment, and I hate how much I don't want this night to end.
“I'm going to follow you home and make sure you get inside and then I'll see you in the morning. Sound good?” I ask.
I want her to tell me to follow her home and come in almost as badly as I don't want her to say those words.
I'm feeling attached to her in a way I’ve never felt before, especially when I've done my best to ensure I never get into any serious relationships. Accepting private contracts like this at any given moment doesn't exactly promote the time needed to nurture a relationship, which is why the flirtatious texting had been perfect between us. Now that’s all stripped away, and I’m lost on how to navigate what’s happening between us.
“Okay, that sounds good,” she says, although there's a little disappointment shaping her features. “Thank you for dinner, by the way,” she says. “I was the one that invited you. I
could’ve paid.”
“I know you could have,” I say, knowing how successful she is. “But I wanted to treat you. Thanks for inviting me.”
“We're going to do it again, aren't we?” she asks.
My eyes flare at the question, the two interpretations flying through my mind even though I know she means dinner. “If you want to, we will,” I answer, holding her door for her as she climbs behind the wheel, and I close it safely behind her.
I follow her back to her house. I wait to make sure she's inside with the doors locked, lingering on her street for a few minutes to ensure there’s nothing out of place. All the cars I've marked in my time since following her are familiar, those vehicles registered to the homeowners along her street.
Satisfied that she’s safe, I head back to the studio apartment I rented only five minutes away from her house.
I settle into the almost bare space, unable to shake how fun tonight had been and how Zoe is making me wonder more and more what it would be like to go home to her every night instead of somewhere I never really felt tethered to.
Because if there’s anything that’ll make me want to put down roots, it’s her.