17. Figuring It Out
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Figuring It Out
T here wasn’t a bone in Owen’s body that wanted to drop off the pie pan to Paige. Well, there was one…
He kept telling the part of him that stood at attention when Paige walked by, or when he’d inhale her scent after she’d passed, that play time was over. It didn’t sit well with either of them, but hey, what was he supposed to do about it?
She’d made her choice.
It had been a week since he’d finished the dessert, hating that he’d loved every bite. Paige’s mom was right—that woman knew key lime pie. He tried not to think about the fact that she knew him inside and out as well, a fact that no longer had any relevance in their lives.
He’d washed and dried the tin, put it on the small wooden table by his door that usually housed his keys and wallet, the remnants of the beer he could never finish when he sat on his porch at the end of the day. He’d try not to get distracted, look out over his property, survey a mental list of what still needed to be done before winter, which would catch up with him quick. Inevitably, though, he’d glance up at Paige’s window, wonder what she was doing as he saw shadows playing on her walls. It threw him off the idea of relaxing on the porch, soaking in the last of the mild weather.
Now, the tin remained the last thing he saw before he left for work on the property, before his errands in town, and the first thing he saw when he got home. And he didn’t see a tin that needed to be returned to his neighbor, no.
That would be too easy.
He saw Paige’s hard work, her delicate but strong hands juicing the limes, her taut arms rolling the grahams for the crust, a bead of sweat on her brow he’d have liked to lick off…
He shook his head. No, the pie tin needed to go back. Today, he told himself. Okay, well, later today, he argued back, as he grabbed his keys and sulked to his truck. He needed some things from the grocery store first.
The sun barely warmed his shoulders as he made the short walk from the truck to the store. When the automatic doors opened, a blast of even cooler air enveloped him and he bit down hard to avoid his teeth from chattering.
Some barbeque sauce, ribs, and beer. It was a simple list, if he could avoid other distractions.
Every time he went to Butte because their selection was better, he ended up leaving with freshly baked bread, cookies, and half the time some fried chicken for the drive back. Owen would be pissed at his inability to say no to the weaker parts of his desires, but he figured he’d earned some cookies and fried food. God knew he worked it off.
This time he hunkered down and stuck to the list. The only thing that made its way past his defenses was a bouquet of bright flowers for his dining room table. They reminded him of the flowers surrounding him and Paige on their horseback riding date. He put his head inside the cheap plastic binding the flowers together and inhaled deeply, recalling that specific picnic and what had happened in lieu of eating.
“She’ll love them,” a thick accent said behind him.
“Hey there, Aury. You caught me.” He smiled. He couldn’t help it—despite all that had happened between him and Paige, he still loved the company of her temporary roommate.
“When a man buys a woman flowers he’s either vying for her attentions or hiding his for someone else. Which is it, young Owen?” He laughed.
“Neither, I’m afraid. I just wanted something to soften the fact that I haven’t decorated for crap since I moved in.”
“You have men coming over for dinner, yes?”
“Yep. The guys who helped me with Alan’s barn. Figured they’ve earned some grilled meat and booze for their efforts.”
“And flowers?”
He chuckled.
“And flowers. What kinda man doesn’t appreciate a good bouquet of wildflowers? I don’t think I want to know that guy.”
It was her turn to laugh this time, a light song that only reminded him of her roommate. He fought the urge to ask about Paige, determined not to care. Or at least not show that he did. Still, her name hung between them.
“So, what are you up to tonight? Any big plans in Banberry?”
“You tease, but this town is so sweet, so simple. I quite like it. Besides, the men who like flowers aren’t so bad to look at, either. You make sure to bring them outside on the porch so I can ogle them later, okay? I’m alone and bored tonight and think Brad is—how do you say it? Fine? ”
Owen’s belly shook with laughter. He didn’t miss Aury’s subtle hint that Paige wouldn’t be home that evening. Where would she be, then? God, please let her not be on a date, or at least not one he’d hear about through the mountain telegraph that was Cowboy Joe’s on a weekend.
He wasn’t sure he could handle that yet.
“Fine is a good word. Just watch out for his girlfriend. She’s got claws.” He made his hands into claws and hissed. She erupted in giggles and swatted at him.
“Yes, this I’ve heard. Well, happy shopping, Owen. Enjoy your dinner.”
“Hey,” he called after her, “can I drop by the pie plate later?”
“Of course, Owen. You are welcome anytime, you know this. We’re friends, right?” Aury was a friend he could easily shed his protective layers and talk to, but they both knew why he wouldn’t take Aury up on that. It was the same reason it was “the” pie plate, not “Paige’s pie plate.” He couldn’t even say her name for crying out loud.
“We are. Thanks, Aury.”
He put the flowers in his cart and doubled down when he got to the beer aisle. No doubt there would be the need for more than a few tonight between his and Brad’s problems that arose regarding the fairer sex.
He paid and headed back to the farm to prep the ribs. If they didn’t fall off the bone, what was the point?
He unloaded an array of spices he’d learned to always have on hand for deployments when the meat was more than a little suspect. Turned out the blend was hell on ribs, too. He rubbed it in, careful not to knead the meat too much, then covered it with root beer—his secret weapon—and put them on the bottom shelf of the same fridge.
He was about to throw on some music, get an early start on the beer portion of the evening, when his eyes fell on the damn pie tin sitting by his front door.
Dammit.
He seized it with prejudice and stormed out the door, determined to get rid of it once and for all. Owen rang the bell at Paige and Aury’s apartment and smiled as the chime trilled like a songbird. He’d done okay in replacing both shitty bells that had preceded this one. Of course, he admittedly liked the second one more, assumed the ladies did as well.
He heard the clacking of heels on wood as Aury made her way down the stairs and chuckled. That was one of many glaring differences between Paige and her friend. Aurelie never seemed to be without a layer of makeup more suitable for going dancing at night, the shoes to match, while Paige had simpler tastes that matched his own.
Still, he could see why Paige said her friend was popular with the Don Juans. She was stunning in a Hollywood jaw-dropping kind of way that most any guy would find attractive.
Just not him. His body only reacted to what his heart had laid claim to—Paige.
Aury opened the door dressed to kill in tight black jeans, long black, straight hair over her right shoulder, a gold lace top over a black barely there tank. It came as no surprise to him that she had on matching gold pumps. He’d thought for sure she’d give up the heels as soon as she saw how impractical they’d be in Banberry—especially if she was staying with Paige at the farm. But, nope. Sure, she’d used some flats to help out around the place, but she’d clung tight to her fashion sense no matter the terrain or gossip that got in her way.
Good for her. This town wouldn’t take her prisoner.
“Owen! Come in, come in,” she said, gesturing him up the stairs he’d been up more times than he could count. Until the last couple weeks, anyway. He walked up and froze when he got to the top. It was all different. From floor to ceiling, the apartment looked simultaneously lived in and as if someone had it staged for a home and garden magazine shoot.
“You like it?” she asked him.
He was stunned silent for a beat, but recovered.
“I do. I really do. It finally looks like someone is living here. Aury, you did a bang-up job with this.”
“Bang up? I don’t know that one…” she said, her hands on her hips.
He laughed.
“It’s a good thing, Aury. It means you killed it.”
“Killed it?” she asked, her perfectly manicured eyebrows halfway up her forehead.
“Never mind. I love it. So, here’s the pan,” he told her, handing the offending cookware over.
“Thank you. I’ll make sure she gets it.”
Owen nodded, tipped his hat, and started walking back down the stairs when she called him back.
“Owen, come here. Sit. I will pour the rum.”
“Oh, well, I’ve got to cook…” he started. She shook her head, telling him he didn’t have that option.
“No. You can sit for at least a drink. We need to talk.” He didn’t like the sound of that one bit, but he wasn’t getting out of there until he acquiesced.
So, he sat, pulled his chair up to the table and in half a second he had a glass full of ice and rum in equal parts. She joined him with one of her own and leaned in for the kill.
“You and Paige need to work this out.”
He sighed. Of course, she’d go there right out of the gate.
“We’ve tried,” he told her. He followed it with a long pull from his glass, figuring if he was going to have this conversation there wasn’t any way he was going to do it sober.
“No, you’ve done nothing of the sort. You need to sit, to drink, to listen without speaking.”
“But—” he started again, but her finger was up before he could get another word out.
“Listen. Without speaking. Start now, yes?”
He nodded.
“Good. You understand.” Aurelie drank half her glass in one swallow and didn’t even flinch. “Paige loves you,” she added.
He was glad he wasn’t sipping on his own drink because he would have spat it back out. He went to open his mouth to reply but she gave him a look that told him he’d better not.
“She loves you, but she’s stubborn like you.” He shot her a look of his own but she ignored it. “Paige is going to leave, Owen.”
He couldn’t let this one go. “I know, damnit, I know.” He ran his hands through his hair, letting his hat fall to the floor.
“Stop,” she commanded. “She’s going to leave because she thinks you don’t want her. You cannot let her leave, Owen. You need to listen to her, ask what she is thinking.”
He swallowed back the urge to beg Aury to tell him where Paige was just then so he could chase her down, listen to everything she wanted to tell him so long as she kept talking and didn’t leave Banberry, but his pride won out. Regret stung the back of his throat like bile.
“You love her too, and you want to go to her but you’re stubborn, see? Like her.” Shit. She really had his number, didn’t she?
“Even if I go to her, what’s the chance she has anything to say to me I haven’t heard before?”
“If she doesn’t talk, then it’s your turn. Only then. And Owen, you had better figure out what to say because you only get one chance.”
“When?” he asked. She’d bought her ticket, that much he’d worked out. She was already packed, had never really unpacked, actually. What was left but for her to drive off into the sunset, alone?
Shit. What should he do?
“Tomorrow night. She’s finished up with her case at the hospital and she will take some time off in the islands to find a job. She is going back to North Caicos, Owen. Do you realize what this means?”
He shook his head. Hell, if he knew what that meant, nor why it seemed to be such good news. By his account, it meant he was too late.
Aurelie grinned like she was up to no good.
“It means she is ready to come home, she just doesn’t know where that is. She doesn’t go to a new place, to adventure. No, she goes home, to the last place she called hers. You need to remind her this is her home, too.”
He saw the logic in that, but he didn’t know what the hell to do about it, that was the problem.
He longed to go to Paige, to take her in his arms and make sure he didn’t need to say a word. His actions would show her just how he felt for her, highlight why he wanted her for the rest of both of their lives. But what if he asked her to stay and she did, then three years from now, or twenty, she resented him for stifling her dreams? What if she grew to hate him for trapping her there?
Then again, what if she didn’t?
Owen stood up.
“Where is she now?” he asked Aurelie. His heart pounded against his ribs, his mouth went dry. A sense of urgency flooded his system, threating to override it. But he couldn’t just act. He had to think about the consequences this time.
“At work. I’ll text her and ask her to take a break so she will be free.” Aurelie clapped her hands, but Owen stopped her with his hand on hers.
“I’m not going there tonight. I need to think about this, Aury. Thank you for talking to me. I love her, I do. But I need to decide how much that should weigh in her decision to leave or not. I need tonight.” He downed the rest of the rum in his glass, hugged her and walked down the steps, taking each one faster than the last so he didn’t turn around and change his mind.
The guys would be there in a few hours and he could get their advice, make them earn the beer he’d bought in bulk.
As he walked the path that was starting to grow over with autumn grass back to his place, he wished it really was that simple, that he could go to Paige, tell her he loved her, take her in his arms and be with her forever.
Listing the impossibilities stacked against them, Owen threw himself into cooking.
She would resent him if she stayed.
He raided his storage closet and drummed up enough to make his uncle’s twice-cooked potatoes, some homemade slaw, and garlic bread on top of the ribs and veggies from his garden.
She would leave him in a month when the snow settled in, trapping them in the valley.
He checked on the ribs, decided they were ready to start slow cooking, and when they were in, set in on the rest.
She wouldn’t be happy with a small private practice.
He chopped the squash and carrots, doused them in oil, sprinkled some salt and pepper on them, then tossed the tray in the oven.
He wouldn’t be enough for her.
He sliced a loaf of bread, slathered it with butter, Parmesan, and garlic powder, then topped both sides with shredded mozzarella. Shifting things around in the oven, he added the bread to the top shelf to toast.
The manual labor took him over, led him task by task instead of letting his mind run away.
He had no idea how long he worked, only that he’d timed everything almost perfectly when he took the bread out of the oven and heard the screen door open.
“It smells like Cracker Barrel in here,” a voice called out from behind him.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he called back. He set the tray down and went to greet his guests. Steve, Alan, and Brad all stood there, a case of beer to themselves.
“We’re prepared for the apocalypse. We won’t eat, but we’ll get our liquid calories at least,” Steve said, helping himself to Owen’s fridge, lining its shelves with his cheap American beer.
“When you said bring something, I guess we all had the same idea,” Brad added looking embarrassed.
“Great minds think alike,” Owen told them. “You can put the rest of ’em in the garage fridge. It’s pretty much dedicated to that particular side dish alone. Good to see you, Alan.”
“I hope you don’t mind me tagging along. I heard there was food and that ladies weren’t invited, so I jumped aboard.”
Owen laughed.
“The Mrs. giving you grief?”
“Oh, she means well, but she’s made it pretty clear I can’t be trusted to take care of myself after my fall so she’s everywhere. Man can’t even take a crap in his own toilet without an audience, and that’s where I draw the line.”
“Well, I’ve got as many toilets as rooms in this joint, so make yourself at home. I promise we won’t even send a search party unless you tell us you need another drink.”
“Ah, that’s why I love you, son,” Alan said, patting Owen on the back before helping himself to one of Steve’s beers. “Yours are cold,” he added when Steve shot him a look that meant business.
“Forgiven,” Steve said.
Owen made himself busy getting the food out to the table while he thought about Alan’s simple, straightforward comment. Aside from the “I love you,” he’d called Owen “son.” Owen’s heart swelled to the point of bursting and heat built behind his eyes. Oh, hell no.
He had five cases of beer, ribs, enough sides to put them all in a post-Thanksgiving-like coma, and three of his best friends. The last thing he needed was to make an ass out of himself over something his neighbor said in passing. But still, it was the first time he’d heard any of those words since he was a kid and damn if they didn’t affect him.
“Looks like we won’t starve if the zombies attack, either. Jesus, Owen. There’s only four of us. I can eat, but this is some next-level meal-prep shit.”
“It looks fantastic, buddy. Thanks for doing all this. Now I really feel bad bringing Coors and not much else.”
“Don’t. As long as you brought an appetite, you’re good. I needed the distraction today.”
“Guess you heard about the departure,” Brad stated. “I was gonna tell you, but since you have an in-house spy, I figured you were caught up.”
“Departure? You gentlemen speaking in code now? C’mon, catch an old man up. I need some adventure in my life.”
“Paige is leaving, Dad. Tell me you at least know that much.”
“Oh, that departure. Well, she ain’t gone yet, son.”
Alan nodded to Owen.
“True. That’s what I need to talk to you guys about. But first, let’s eat. Grab a plate and fill it. Any leftovers are going home with you guys, so don’t be shy.”
Once they were all seated around Owen’s handcrafted dining table, mouths full and moans of delight echoing off the walls, the talk of sports teams won and lost that week, Steve was the first to speak up.
“So, I’d say go get her, man. Whadadya gotta lose?” he asked with half a pork rib hanging out of his mouth.
“Seriously bro. Chew, swallow, then talk. Didn’t your momma teach you anything?” Brad asked.
“You don’t wanna know what my momma taught me,” Steve said, laughing and spraying bits of meat on the plate in front of him.
“You’re disgusting,” Brad echoed. Light laughter came from the men who’d known Steve long enough to know he was mostly talk and entirely entertaining.
Steve just smiled and threw up his hands as if to say, “And?”
“But seriously,” Brad added, looking at Owen, “I do agree with his point.”
“You think I should go over? Like tonight? I think the thing I’ve been struggling with is asking her to stay.”
“Why? She can always say no, right?” Steve asked.
“Well, what if she says yes?” Owen asked, his voice quiet, serious.
“Then you get everything you ever wanted? I mean, that’s the goal, right? For her to say yes?”
Owen paused before he answered. There it was again, the simple plan, the one that, at least on paper, gave everyone everything they wanted.
But Paige was anything but simple.
“In theory, yes. But in practice there’s so much more to it than that.” Owen explained his perspective, about Paige’s potential for resentment down the road, and made careful watch of Alan while he did.
The man sat, listened, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Yet, while the other two contributed their opinions over the course of an hour and four beers apiece, Alan remained quiet, thoughtful.
Finally, the evening wound down and Steve was the first to stand, arching his back and stretching his belly, which he patted lovingly.
“Man, if I knew you cooked like this when you moved here, I might have given up women altogether and moved in with you. Thanks for the dinner, Owen. If I didn’t have the dumbass staff meeting tomorrow where I need to bring the fear of God to the little shits who keep coming in late, I’d stick around and help you clean up.”
Owen chuckled, clearing some dishes off the table. “No need. I’m glad you could make it. Cleaning up will keep my hands busy while I take some time to think.”
Steve waved off while Brad did the same, thanking Owen and offering to come by the next day and help on the farm if he needed to catch up with Paige. Alan sat where he was, silently sipping his beer like he had all the time in the world to enjoy his drink.
When he was finished, he set it on the table and looked at Owen who had just finished doing dishes.
“I’m not going to apologize for not helping. I’ve done my time son, but I’m grateful you had me over. It was a wonderful meal.”
It was the first thing Alan had said in over an hour. Owen smiled.
“Can I get you another?” he asked Alan. He wasn’t expecting the old man to say yes, so when he did, Owen smiled.
“Bring yourself one, too, son. We’ve got some things to talk about.”
Owen did as he was instructed, bringing them both a beer as well as two glasses with ice and the bottle of rum.
Alan grinned like he’d won the lottery.
“Ah, the island rum. Marge won’t let me open ours until I get the all clear from the doc, but I’ve heard wonderful things.”
“Oh, sorry. I’ll put it back.” Owen went to stand up again but Alan put a hand on his arm.
“Like hell you will, son. Put that bottle down and keep your mouth shut if Marge asks you anything.”
“Yes, sir,” he teased, a conspiratorial wink shared between them.
“So, you love my daughter?”
Owen almost spit his swig of beer all over Alan. The man didn’t say anything for half the night and then he opened with a gut-punch like that?
“Um, yes. Yes, I do. Very much, Alan.”
Alan sat back in his chair and closed his eyes, patted his stomach. A contented smile sat on his face like it normally did, though this time Owen took special pleasure in the fact that he was partially responsible for this one. Or at least not responsible for making it disappear.
After a pause that made Owen wonder if his guest had fallen asleep at the table, Alan opened his eyes.
“Then you have to ask her, son. You have to ask her to stay.”
“You heard my arguments against it, right?”
“I did, and while I appreciate your consideration of my daughter, with all due respect, it’s bullshit.”
This time Owen did spray his beer, but luckily most of it landed on the table in front of him, not on his neighbor.
“How’s that?” he asked, more amused than concerned. He wiped his mouth, took a sip of rum.
“You’ve got it all wrong, son. She’s an adult, she’ll make her decision and yeah, she might struggle a little bit trying to find her place here, but if she says yes to you, she’s saying yes knowing what comes with it. She’s had some time to think, one of the only good things to come out of her injury and illness, I reckon. Only time she’s had to slow down in the past decade, and the truth is, she’s starting to realize she’s not the woman she was when she first left. Hell, she was hardly a woman at all. But she’s grown now, and starting to think about what makes her life worth livin’. It seems she’s added you to the list, son, and that’s nothing to turn your nose up at.”
“I agree, but do you think she could be happy here forever if that’s in my plan?”
Alan chuckled, his belly shaking with each laugh.
“Aw, son, there’s no plan when you marry a woman, at least not one you make alone. There’s just what the two of you decide to do together and that’s the part you never figured on. You never thought to ask her what it is she wants.”
Owen took that in.
“Okay, so say I ask her, and she stays. Will that erase her travel bug? I know that’s part of who Paige is, someone who wants to see the world.”
“You willing to go with her every now and then?”
“Hell yes.” In fact, Owen had been picturing getting on a plane with Paige to some exotic destination, hands entwined, nothing but swimsuits and smiles packed, since he’d first met her. As he’d gradually gotten to know her better, the daydream had morphed into a wish list, then a possibility, complete with destinations he’d previously only read about in books. That had crushed him the most, having to say goodbye to that dream.
“Let her know. I’m sure that’ll go a long way.”
“Okay. Will do. And thanks, Alan. I know most dads wouldn’t be so sympathetic to their daughter’s suitors.”
“Well, Owen, you know no matter what happens between you and Paige, you’re like another son to Marge and me. I don’t know many folks who’d do what you did for me while I was in the hospital. You need anything else, anything at all, you call me, you hear?” Owen nodded, biting back a burning in his throat that meant he was seconds away from losing his shit. He just had to hold back the tears for another minute. “Especially if that something is someone to take some of these ribs off your hands. Rum, too.”
“You want a plate for Marge?”
Alan nodded. “Yes, absolutely yes. I’ll tell you what, son. You do yourself a favor and never forget about the woman sitting home waiting for you. It’ll save you a lifetime of making up for it if you do.”
“I’ll try to remember that one,” Owen said, laughing. The truth was, he couldn’t imagine ever forgetting about Paige if he was lucky enough to be with her. He made a heaping plate of ribs and all the fixin’s, feeling good about feeding his family and feeding them well. He’d worried when he first moved to Banberry that it wouldn’t be enough for him, that he’d never find a family, but nothing could have been further from the truth. He not only had two wonderful folks he considered as parents, but a man he’d come to think of as a best friend and brother, and hopefully, if everything went well the next morning, a woman he could spend the rest of his life loving.
It was more than he’d ever expected but everything he’d ever hoped for.
He walked Alan to the door with his food and snuck him an extra shot of rum.
“You’re a saint, son.”
Owen mimed zipping his lips shut and throwing out the key. Then he got to work, cleaning the house like he’d never cleaned it before.
He had a mind to ask Paige over late tomorrow morning. He’d lay out his plan detailing his ideas on travel and the day-to-day, then ask her for her input.
It was a start. They’d build from there, but the idea was, they’d be together to do it. He didn’t care much what his future looked like as long as it included her in it.
When he glanced at his watch, somehow it was three in the morning and he was barely standing. He took a PT shower, hopped into bed, and his eyes grew heavy. The last thought he had was how everything was starting to come together for him. Only a couple hours stood between him and the rest of his life and he just wanted them to be over as quickly as possible.
With that, he was out, the nightmares at bay, peace on his horizon.