Chapter 22 Owen
E ight, nine, and ten.
My biceps start to shake just a little as I lower myself and drop to the ground, looking at the view of the cove. Damn, it’s gorgeous even during storms, but today, the water looks as smooth as glass, reflecting every white cloud in the morning sky. I’m pretty lucky to have this view even standing in the doorway to my bedroom. Since I don’t really have company over besides my cousins, I’ve taken to leaving the bar up.
Might be a sign that I’m not putting myself out there enough because I only shut the door to keep Samson out if someone is staying over. He’ll meow at the door for a couple of minutes, and then curls up on his ridiculously plush cat bed I keep on a low shelf with stacked books filling the rest of the space, exactly as he prefers it.
For some reason, he gives every date I bring home the stink-eye. Well, not in the last year since I haven’t brought anyone home, but the seven years prior, I suppose. He never has an issue with friends and relatives. Just people that might take his favorite pillow.
I roll out my mat and start my series of crunches, adjusting my position and dropping my knees to the right and then to the left as I go.
As if he knew I was just thinking about him, Samson trots towards me, making the little grunting noise he reserves for when he’s approaching me to get a pet.
“One second, fur ball.”
Per usual, he doesn’t listen. Instead, he somehow manages to rub his face against mine each time I lower my shoulders to the mat. It’s only another rep until I’m flat on my back and he’s curled up on my chest, purring loudly.
“I woke up extra early and only had a few more reps left, and you still demand my attention?”
I scratch behind his ears and his eyes close, making him look like a big black and gray puffball. It seems like he’s forgiven me for packing up again. He only peed on my shoes once, and those were sandals, a few days ago. His big cat tree in the sun room was in a box for probably two hours, but that was enough to get some serious cattitude from him for a few days.
“Okay buddy,” I say, curling him into my arms and rolling up, then standing. “Time for me to get ready for work and for your breakfast.”
Samson might be a longhair cat, but he’s actually pretty petite and loves to sit on my shoulder while I get his food. Sure enough, when I open the cupboard above the sink, his claws grip my T-shirt, now covered in fur, and he maneuvers his way to my left shoulder. He squeaks out a little meow and the purring resumes as he tracks the bright label of the can.
The pop of the lid has him swishing his tail against my back. His bowl is in the drying rack and he leans forward, partially blocking my view as I scoop the food. He knows we’re not done, yet, but I still have to nudge him back while I open the oil mixture for his joints from the counter.
“I know, I know,” I tell him. “Almost done.”
Once there are five drops distributed, I squat so he doesn’t hurt his hips from jumping down, and put his dish on his mat next to his water. He eats like a gremlin, making so much noise between the purring and smacking of his mouth.
I shake my head, pet his back, and hit the shower, noting that I’m on my normal schedule even with waking up early. Apparently, I have some stress I’m working through because my workouts are getting longer.
Twenty minutes later, two breakfast bars in hand, and I’m out the door, leaving my cat sunning in his treehouse. I check my watch and see that I have enough time to grab coffee on the way as planned.
I’m not ready to resign myself to school coffee before the students even start. Thankfully, Bobbi’s is just a few doors down the boardwalk from my building, so it’s conveniently on the way to where I park.
Definitely one of the downsides of my place: street-only parking. But my views are better than anything I could have even imagined in the city. The sounds of the boardwalk in the morning feel so normal now. Even the seagulls.
The smell of the salty water is quickly replaced by brewing coffee the moment I open the door.
And there she is. Poppy. Looking gorgeous even as she rifles through her bag for something. Her bangs hide her face, but she looks a little flustered from here. I approach her, not that I could avoid her if I want my coffee since she’s at the back of the short line, and clear my throat. Her search stops immediately and she looks up at me, capturing all of my attention for a moment.
“As your coworker…” I keep my tone light, but not mocking so she doesn’t think I’m mad about her boundary to just be coworkers. I’ll respect that, even if I’d like to be friends, or more than that. “I wanted to offer assistance to my fellow teacher, but I have no idea how to be helpful.”
Her shoulders relax and she lets out a breath. “I think I left my planner back at my house and I was hoping, if I ransacked my purse, it might magically show up…even though I know I never put it in here.”
I think for a moment. “Blue cover with colorful pages?”
“You know what my planner looks like?” she asks, one eyebrow raised.
“You were sitting next to me during the literacy introduction and you had it out,” I counter. Her gaze softens, becoming less skeptical in a mini stare down. She lets out an adorable huff, slinging her purse onto her shoulder as we move closer to the register. “You had a big brown bag that you seemed to stuff things into throughout the day.”
“Ugh, of course,” she says, rubbing her forehead. “I had my presentation material with me yesterday. The bag is in my trunk.”
“Problem solved?” I ask.
“Problem solved. Thank you, Mr. Wright.”
“Owen, please,” I say. “My students call me Mr. Wright, but my coworkers call me Owen.”
Her lips purse and I fight to hold her gaze so it doesn’t look like I’d like to kiss her. “Alright, Owen.”
Oh god, I’m back to our night together. Hearing her say my first name at work might not have been my best idea after all.