Chapter Sixteen #2
When I jumped off my chair to help clear the dishes, I wobbled a little. Owen hurried around the counter and reached out to steady me. “You’re drunk,” he said, a smile in his voice.
“You were drinking, too!”
“I haven’t finished my first glass yet. You, my dear, had almost a whole bottle of wine.”
“Hey, cut me some slack. I turned into evil incarnate this week and almost killed a witch.”
“Your sense of humour is dark. I like it.” Owen took my dishes and gently pointed me in the direction of the living room, where I’d do less damage. “Why don’t you get settled over there, and pick out a movie while I tidy up?”
“Oh!” I had an excellent idea. “Let’s play Scrabble!”
His smile widened. “I don’t have that game.”
“I do!” Ignoring Owen’s muttered protest that strip poker would be more fun, I wandered off to the bedroom to rummage through my things.
Two hours later, the Scrabble board was a mess of half-finished words and scattered tiles, a second wine bottle sat empty between us, and the room was filled with tipsy laughter.
Mostly mine. We had long since stopped keeping score, and I was pretty sure we were both choosing the letters we wanted.
At least, I was. A digital fireplace crackled on his tv and rain tapped against the windows.
“Okay, okay. I’ve got one,” I giggled, trying to keep my tiles from sliding off my tray as I held it in front of me. “But don’t take this too literally.”
“No promises.” Owen raised his eyebrows as I carefully arranged my tiles to spell kiss, connecting it to Owen’s earlier word closer.
“I can’t help but notice that when we started this game, you chose words like friend, slow, and patient,” he mused.
“Don’t forget steady and root. A good relationship needs time to grow.” I waved my hand as I reached for more tiles, almost knocking my wineglass over.
“How could I forget those.” Owen rolled his eyes. “I like this word better. You should get drunk more often.”
“I usually find longer words, to be honest, but I can’t feel my face right now. Can’t see the tiles too well, either.” I squinted at the letters. I was feeling increasingly bold. Perhaps I should try something even sexier… A tiny hiccup escaped me.
“You okay?”
“Peachy,” I said, smiling at him. Owen looked amazing, the light from the digital fire and nearby candles giving his skin a soft glow. “You look incredible, and you smell like campfire.”
Owen grinned. “I have one.” He placed his tiles on the board to spell big alongside his earlier words heat, desire, and risk.
I raised an eyebrow as my eyes travelled downward. “Owen Grant…”
“It’s just a word.”
Yeah, right.
I put my rack of tiles on the coffee table and leaned back against the couch’s armrest.
“This is great,” I said, stifling a sudden yawn. “You make me laugh.”
“Not sure it’s me so much as the wine.”
“It is you,” I insisted, sliding a foot up his thigh. “I like this. Playing a game together. Hanging out. Who knew you could be so fun?”
“Thanks, I think,” Owen said, watching with great interest as my foot inched toward his crotch.
“I just mean that when we first met you were all tough and unapproachable, and now you’re fun and flirty. I mean, who knew?” My foot made contact with the bulge in his pants, and he jumped up.
“Okay, I think we’ve had enough wine and games for one night.” He helped me stand and guided me toward the bedroom, still insisting I take the bed while he slept on the couch. Such a gentleman.
“Owen?”
“Yes?”
“I like kissing you.” There were two of him now. Yum. I sat on the edge of the bed.
“I know.”
“Do you like kissing me?”
“Oh yeah.”
I loved the way he said that.
“Will you kiss me again?” I asked as he pulled off my sweater. This was going well.
“Absolutely. But not while you’re drunk. You have no idea what you’re doing or saying.”
“You’re a good man, Owen.” I reached up to pat him on the cheek but missed and ended up slapping him on the stomach. He grunted.
“I am a good man. Too good.” His sigh was one of self-inflicted torment.
“I’m going to give you a little kiss. Okay?”
“No, you’re not. You’re going to sleep.”
“Please?”
“Nope. I won’t be able to keep my hands off you if you kiss me.” He pushed me gently onto my side and pulled the cover over me.
“That sounds fun.”
“It would be. There would also be a lot of regret in the morning.” He pressed a quick kiss to my head, walked to the door, and turned off the light.
“Owen?”
“Yeah?” The light from the living room behind him turned him into a silhouette. I was so sleepy. Maybe he wasn’t even there. If so, then what I was about to say wouldn’t matter.
“I think I’m falling in love with you,” I whispered. “Don’t break my heart, okay?”
There was a long pause from Owen Who Wasn’t There. I closed my eyes.
“Okay,” he finally whispered back.
“Promise?” I fought to open my eyes. He needed to know I was serious.
“Promise.” His voice sounded strange.
“I promise not to break yours, too,” I mumbled before drifting off.
It was completely dark and much later in the night when I felt Owen Who Wasn’t There slip into bed beside me and pull me into his embrace. I smiled and snuggled against his warmth while his arms tightened around me.
Pressing a kiss to my hair, he whispered into the dark something I wished with all my heart was real.
“I’m falling in love with you, too.”