Chapter 48 Owen
“ O wen, honey, can you help your father up the steps so he doesn’t break something?” my mom says loud enough for Dad to hear while she reaches for the enormous floral arrangement he put together for the party.
“Of course, Mom.” I hand it over, making sure she has a good grip since she’s wearing gloves. “You be careful, too, we don’t want anyone to have a broken bone tonight.”
“I grew up with this ice, I know what I’m doing. It’s you city boys I worry about.”
My dad closes the trunk, several bags on each arm while mumbling something about New York getting plenty of snow and ice.
“Dad, let me take some of those.” I know he’d be a little offended if I took them all. He’d likely say something about not needing to be fussed over and that he’s all healed, which is mostly true.
“Did your mother put you up to this?” His eyebrow raises in suspicion.
“No, I just don’t want to be the only one walking in empty-handed.”
He smiles at my reply, obviously knowing that I want to help him, and letting me take some of the bags. We walk up the sidewalk to Brandon and Andi’s home, which is already bustling with people. A few icicles hang from the edge of the roof, sparkling with the light of the setting sun.
Poppy would take a beautiful picture of them.
Looking away from the house, I shift the bags to one hand so I’m ready to assist my father in case he slips. Thankfully, he brought his grippiest boots for this visit and we all make it inside the house without incident.
“Uncle Daniel! We’re so happy you made it,” Brandon exclaims, stepping out of my mom’s hug and coming in to hug my dad.
Andi stands just outside the crowded entryway with the arrangement in her arms. “It’s so lovely to see you again, Mr. Wright, I’m just going to put these gorgeous flowers on the table, thank you so much. Please come in and we can take your coats to the office.”
Aunt Mae comes around the corner waving to me and tugging my parents with her. I think back on the number of times we’ve had family get-togethers and how much my mom loves to be with her siblings.
“Your girlfriend is in the kitchen so my wife can greet people,” Brandon says, slinging his arm around my shoulders and accepting my parents’ coats with the other. “I’ve been kicked out for being ‘too exuberant’ apparently, so they might need another set of hands, if you happen to be interested.”
“Well, I wouldn’t want to leave them short-handed.”
“No, we wouldn’t want that.” Mirth dances in his eyes and he gives me a playful shove toward the kitchen.
Andi grabs my jacket before I can bring it to their office myself, startling me with how fast she returned. “Sounds like you have someplace to be while I handle these.”
“Are you two conspiring to give us alone time since my parents are here?”
She purses her lips at me. “Are you complaining?”
“Never.”
“Then shoo,” she says, flicking her hand toward the kitchen.
Poppy is poking dough with her fingertips with her back to me. Keeping my steps quiet, I slip behind her and grab her hips, pulling her against me.
She gives a little squeak of surprise at the contact, but relaxes into me almost immediately. “I wasn’t sure when you were going to be here.”
“How did you know it was me?” My lips kiss just behind her ear.
“No one has hands that grip me like that.” She rests her back against me. “Plus, it would be highly inappropriate for someone else to hold me like this.”
“I won’t argue with that,” I say, turning her around in my arms.
“But the bread,” she protests feebly, already tugging me closer.
“I’m quite confident that the bread can wait for fifteen seconds while I greet my girlfriend.”
She quickly looks at the two entrances to the kitchen to see if anyone is coming.
“They’re all busy catching up and saying hello.”
“You’re sure?” she asks, looking once more.
“Aunt Mae took my parents into the living room, so all the commotion we can hear is them being fully absorbed in their own world. Do you think I can kiss my girlfriend now?”
A small smile appears. “I suppose you can.”
Raising up on her toes as I lean down, she kisses me. We take our time, our lips confident and sure. When a little sound of pleasure leaves her, I wind my fingers through her hair and tip her head back, deepening our connection. Our mouths part and when our tongues touch, I can feel it all the way to my toes.
I can’t get enough of this woman.
Laughter from the next room breaks us apart, reminding us that someone could walk in at any moment. A light flush rises on her cheeks—something I always love to see when she’s kissed me.
“Oh no,” she whispers frantically, using her arms to turn me around awkwardly. “I had a little oil on my hands from the bread and I think it’s in your hair.”
“At least you didn’t grab my butt.” I can’t help but laugh at the situation as I spin around for her.
“You’re lucky I didn’t because I really like your butt.” She uses her forearms to push on my shoulders. “You have to kneel so I can fully assess the damage.”
Obediently, I do as she asks, sinking to my knees in the middle of the kitchen. She makes a few sounds of displeasure.
“Just run your hands through my hair a few times,” I suggest. “It’ll look like I used some product to look nice for the party.”
“It’s olive oil,” she deadpans.
“My grandmother on my dad’s side is half Italian, we’ll pretend it’s the latest trend if anyone notices.”
“Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m going to purposefully rub oily hands through my boyfriend’s hair at a party where our parents are meeting.” She’s still hesitating.
“Need I remind you that you’re a skilled art teacher and can likely turn this into something beautiful?”
“Nothing about this is anywhere close to what I teach,” she says, her voice worried.
Tipping my head back, until I can see her hovering over my hair, I get her attention and say, “I trust you.”
She lets out a little huff of air and gets a determined look on her face before nodding once, and putting her fingers into my hair to tilt my head the way she wants it. Using confident motions, she distributes the oil throughout my hair.
“I’m going to let you do this any time you want, just so you know,” I murmur.
She gives my hair a little pull, forcing my face back up and swoops down for a quick kiss and then smiles at me. “You can stand now. It’s hardly noticeable now that it’s distributed.”
Running my hand through it, I’m surprised that it doesn’t feel weighed down. “Maybe this will be part of my hair routine from now on.”
She rolls her eyes and washes her hands. “Yeah, right.”
I follow her and wash up next before she puts me to work chopping olives for the focaccia she was preparing. As I’m chopping away, Andi comes into the kitchen with a stack of sheet pans covered in foil with a dusting of snow.
“These were sitting outside to stay cold since the fridge is packed,” she explains when seeing my confused expression. She pauses and looks at me for a moment. “Did you do something different with your hair tonight? I don’t know how I missed it when you came in.”
Poppy and I exchange a glance, both of us trying to not smile.
“Just trying a little product in my hair, that’s all.”
“Well, it looks great. Kind of tousled.”
Poppy has to cover her giggle with a pretend cough and I manage to thank Andi without bursting out laughing myself.