Chapter Four
Iwoke with a start. The glaring red letters of my clock told me it was almost nine, yet I felt worse than before I’d fallen asleep.
The memory of the strange men in the park slammed into me, and I rolled over with a groan, burying my head under the covers.
Was Owen still downstairs or had Jace already picked him up?
I quickly reached for my phone and texted my friend Shae:
Kira: Weirdest. Night. Ever.
Shae texted back within seconds.
Shae: Did you dream about Mystery Man again?
Kira: Mystery Man’s name is Owen and he saved me from 4 attackers in a park. For real. No dreaming
Shae: What?! Shut up!
Kira: And Todd showed up
Shae: Asshole
Kira: He slept on my couch. Might still be downstairs
Shae: Todd?
Kira: No. Mystery Man.
Shae: Girl! You have to tell me everything! But why are you texting me right now? mystery man is in your house!
Kira: It’s weird…
Shae: Of course it’s weird. You’ve been mooning over Mystery Man for months. Now he’s yours. This is your moment. Live a little
Kira: You sound like Charles
Shae: Don’t compare me to an old man. Even if that old man is right. And pretty cool. Now go get Mystery Man. And report back asap
Kira: You can call him Owen
Shae: Nah. He’ll always be Mystery Man to me.
Kira: And I’m not sure he’s mine…
Shae: Trust me. He’s yours. You just need to take the risk
Kira: We still on for lunch Monday?
Shae: You know it
I sent her a happy face surrounded by hearts and Shae replied with three hug emojis.
I had met Shae in July, shortly after she started working as a research librarian at the university.
I needed a new friend even more than I needed her help tracking down a resource for my thesis.
After my breakup with Todd, I’d avoided our mutual friends out of shame.
A clean break seemed like the fastest and simplest way to move forward, but I missed the support.
Enter Shae. We immediately hit it off, getting to know each other over shared lunch breaks.
Our friendship would likely end at some point—all my relationships did—but I was having fun while it lasted.
I put down my phone and stared at the ceiling while I steeled my nerves to follow Shae’s advice.
I can do this. There may be an insanely hot man downstairs, a man who makes my stomach do somersaults. A man who accused me of scamming his grandfather, then scared off my ex, saved my life, and stayed over when I was too nervous to sleep alone.
This was fine. Completely fine. Not confusing at all.
As much as I wanted to do it, lying in bed all day wouldn’t help. I needed to get up and face whatever awaited me downstairs.
I quicky changed into jeans and a light sweater and combed my hair, leaving it to fall around my shoulders in gentle waves. Then I headed downstairs in search of strong coffee. And Owen.
I found him at the kitchen table, a pot of freshly brewed coffee on the counter. He took one look at me and stood up to fetch a mug.
“Sit,” he said when I started to protest that he was a guest and shouldn’t serve me.
“I’m surprised you’re still here,” I replied, immediately wincing at how ungrateful I sounded. He gave me an exasperated look as if to say Where else would I be?
I hastily stacked lecture notes, poetry anthologies, and dog-eared novels to the side, trying without success to bring order to the chaos. It was early September, and classes had just started, but I was already knee-deep in paper.
My favourite place to work had always been a kitchen; it was the coziest room in a house.
But now I felt self-conscious about the open shelves filled with mismatched mugs, the fridge door dotted with a variety of lists, the thrifted table and chairs, and the fairy lights strung along the windows and cupboards.
“Get any sleep?” Owen asked as he poured my coffee.
“Some. You?”
“Some.” He stretched his back, and I grimaced in sympathy.
My secondhand futon was anything but comfortable.
Unfortunately, the house’s owner had put her furniture in storage—most likely not trusting it in the hands of a university student—so I had been forced to thrift most of my household items over the course of the summer.
Despite the effect Owen was having on my nerves, I sighed in contentment as he handed me a mug and I inhaled the aroma of fresh, hot coffee.
“There might be some bread around here for toast, if you want,” I offered. That was most likely a lie; I was long overdue for a grocery trip.
“Coffee is fine.” Owen took a seat across from me and awkward silence fell between us.
“Do you think—” I began at the same time as Owen said, “It looks like—” and then we spent the next few seconds insisting the other speak first.
Owen chuckled. “I was going to say something profound about the weather.”
“Oh.” I smiled. “I was going to say something fascinating about the police contacting us.”
Owen nodded and we sat in silence, the topics of police reports and the weather having been apparently exhausted.
“Sorry. I’m not very good at this,” Owen said at last.
“At what?”
“Making small talk. It’s been a long time since…well, never mind.” Was he blushing?
“Can we start over?” he asked, holding out his hand. “Hi, I’m Owen Grant”
My stomach fluttered as I slipped my hand into his larger one. His grip was steady and firm, his skin warm.
“Kira Blackwell,” I replied with a smile. “Nice to meet you.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” he murmured, and a flicker of heat rose along my neck at the look in his eyes.
We held hands a moment longer than necessary, our fingers brushing against each other as we slowly let go.
“Tell me about yourself,” he said around a sip of his coffee.
“Not much to tell,” I answered, straightening in my seat. “I’m about a year away from finishing my PhD in English literature.”
“What’s your focus?”
“Forgotten women writers of the nineteenth century. I’m interested in the themes of memory, identity, and loss.”
I could tell he had no idea what I meant, but then he surprised me by asking a follow-up question and listening intently to my answer.
And then he asked another question, and for the next little while I forgot about my nerves as I was filled with the familiar excitement that came with talking about my research.
I even opened a few nearby books to show him passages that supported my thesis.
I might have carried on all morning, but I glanced at my watch and realized I had been speaking for a good twenty minutes.
“I’m so sorry! I can’t believe I’m still talking about this!”
“Don’t be sorry. I find it interesting. And you…”
“What?” I asked, closing and restacking my books.
He tilted his head as he studied me. “You light up when you talk about your passion. It’s nice to see someone so excited about their work.”
“Oh. Thank you,” I said, flustered yet pleased by his words. “Well, it’s your turn now. Tell me about your work.”
Owen took another sip of coffee before answering.
“I joined the military when I was eighteen. Charles is my mother’s father, but I come from a military family on my father’s side, and he’s a general.
Our relationship is strained. As you may have guessed.
” He shot me a wry smile, and I swallowed with discomfort.
“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop on your conversation. Sorry. I was upset and your voice…” Heat climbed from my chest to my cheeks.
“My voice?”
“It’s very calming,” I murmured, looking away.
“That’s nice to hear,” Owen said with a broad smile. “It’s okay. Your transgression isn’t nearly as bad as me accusing you of scamming Granddad. Anyway, I left the military about five years ago. Decided to try the private side of things, and I’ve been running Grant Protection Services ever since.”
“What’s that like?”
“It pays the bills. It’s mostly executives and businesspeople travelling to and from various locations. Even had a few politicians who needed security for their events. I don’t bodyguard as much as I used to. The company has grown in the last few years, and I’m too busy running things.”
I nodded and took another sip of coffee while I scrambled for a follow-up question.
Or a comment. Anything. But a response eluded me.
Work had been covered at this point, and I didn’t want to ask anything too personal.
Hobbies. Hobbies were a safe topic. I needed to date more, I decided, as Owen took a deep breath, seeming to steel himself.
“Mind if I ask you something personal?”
I snorted. “After you helped with my ex, fended off four attackers, and saved my life? Ask anything you want.” I raised my mug to him, and he inclined his head in acknowledgement.
“Okay. What happened between you and Todd?”
“Oh. That.” I tried to squash my rising humiliation. Would it ever go away? “I caught him cheating on me. A month before our wedding.”
“Fuck.” The intensity of his gaze made me look away.
“Yeah. I suppose there were signs before that night, but if I’m being honest, I was blind to his faults. Too excited with the idea of being in love, I guess. It’s been almost three months, but…”
The sickening image of a blond woman riding the rat bastard in our bedroom flashed through my mind, and I shook my head to clear it.
“Three months isn’t enough time to get over something like that.”
“Thank you.” I blinked, surprised at his understanding.
“But, Kira, I hope you take a chance with someone again. Not all men are assholes.”
I couldn’t meet his eyes.
“What about you?” I asked, desperate to change the subject. “Got anyone special?”
“Not at the moment.”
I tried to hide my sigh of relief.
“Never had anyone special, if I’m being honest.”
“Really?”
“Military life doesn’t lend itself to relationships, and I always considered my team to be my family.
For the past few years, I’ve been so busy with the company, I haven’t had time for anything serious.
Besides, after the accident…let’s just say I haven’t felt like dating.
” He shrugged like it meant nothing, yet I heard the pain behind his words.
“Why not? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“Whenever I tried to date, I could feel the women staring at my scars. Eventually I stopped trying to meet someone.”
Had I stared? I frantically thought through our past encounters. Was I staring now? I hadn’t meant to. Shit.
“You, however, have spent most of your time glaring at me.”
“Well, you are aggravating.”
He threw back his head and laughed, the sound warm and genuine, and something inside me tilted as I caught a glimpse of the real Owen. Not the guarded man he presented to the world but the one underneath who was, I suspected, kinder and gentler than most people knew.
I couldn’t help but join in, my laugh sounding lighter and brighter than I expected. Owen’s eyes softened, and as our laughter faded, an easy silence settled in its place.
A knock sounded at the door, and Owen jumped up to answer it. “That’ll be Jace now, I bet.”
A moment later, Jace entered the kitchen after Owen, looking refreshed and effortlessly put together. Feeling drab next to these two composed, handsome men, I smoothed back my hair and pushed my glasses up.
“Morning, Kira,” Jace said, setting a bag on the table and heading straight to the coffee pot.
“Morning,” I said, blushing. “Didn’t know I would have company this morning or I would have tidied a bit…done my hair or something.”
“You look lovely,” Jace said, taking a sip of his coffee, a twinkle in his eyes. “Your hair is especially pretty this morning.”
“Oh, thank you,” I stammered, pleased but also embarrassed by the attention.
“Jace,” Owen said, a hard edge to his voice.
“What? I’m paying a compliment to a beautiful woman. Don’t you think Kira looks pretty this morning?” Jace winked at me.
“Kira is always pretty,” Owen muttered, standing up and avoiding my eye.
I blinked, unsure if I should be pleased that he’d agreed or offended that his compliment seemed forced. Definitely time to redirect. “What’s in the bag, Jace?” I said, gesturing at it.
He shrugged. “Owen asked me to pick up breakfast.”
“Oh, thank you,” I said to them both, feeling embarrassed again, this time because of my empty cupboards. But I was grateful for the food. Breakfast was my favourite meal of the day.
As if sensing my discomfort, Owen waved a hand. “We didn’t want to impose by eating all your food. Happy to treat.”
I peeked in the bag, almost swooning in delight when I spotted croissant breakfast sandwiches. Owen hid a smile behind his coffee mug and took another sip.
“By the way, Owen” I said, after Jace flopped into the chair beside me and I swallowed a bite. “I don’t think I ever said a proper thank-you for defending me in the park. It was impressive.”
“Of course. Are you okay?” he asked. “I know you’re not hurt, but sometimes it’s a shock seeing that kind of violence, going through something like that…”
We stared at each other.
“I’m okay. Only a little shaken.”
Jace’s eyes darted between us, a mischievous smile playing at his lips. “I’m sure Owen would be happy to show you some self-defence moves.”
I straightened in my chair, warmth spreading through me as I imagined Owen and I standing close together, his hands holding mine while he showed me how to make a fist. Perhaps his arm would slide around me while he fixed my stance.
I’d seen and read enough romances to know how this could play out.
I would lean into his strength, he’d pull me toward him…
My face felt sunburned when I noticed Owen and Jace looking at me oddly. What was wrong with me?
“Sorry.” I cleared my throat. “What was that?”
Owen’s lips twitched. “I said I’d be happy to teach you if you’re interested.”
“Sure. That would be fine. Couldn’t hurt. These sandwiches are delicious. Is it late? We should check on Charles.” I shot from my chair to rinse my mug.
But as I passed Owen, I glimpsed his tender smile and felt my own face break into a wide grin.