Four Years Later (One Week Girlfriend 4)

“Um, my friend and I met up with him and his friend for a drink,” I explain, wincing when I see his eyes widen.

“Aren’t you underage?” he asks incredulously.

“Aren’t you?” I toss back. God, he has some nerve. Who is he to talk?

“I work here. I’m not trying to sneak in and have a few drinks.” He says the words as if he’s passing judgment, but I see the waver in his gaze. I would bet big money he’s done the very same thing, though probably not here since he claims he works here. “Where’s your friend?”

“Inside.” I wave my hand toward the door.

“And she didn’t leave with you?” He shakes his head. “Some friend.”

“Hey, don’t knock her. Kari’s my best friend.” Practically the only friend I have.

“Could’ve fooled me. I thought best friends take care of each other.”

Talk about cutting straight to the bone. “That was totally uncalled for.” I tilt my head, lifting my nose to the air with a tiny sniff. My dad may have lost all our money and left us broke while he languishes in prison, but I can still pull off that haughty rich-girl attitude when I need to.

Tad’s words come back at me. Am I acting like I’m too good for Owen? I feel so defensive with him. Why does this guy affect me so much? It’s unnerving how attracted I am to him. No guy does this to me and here I am, all hot and bothered and feeling a little feverish. All over a guy.

“Only speaking the truth,” he says with a shrug. “Do you have a way home?”

“I do.”

“How?” He looks skeptical, which he should. I can’t pull anything on anyone, I swear.

“I’m calling a cab.” I open up my phone again, once more searching for a taxi. “Thank you for helping me,” I add, always polite, always so freaking good and never doing anything outrageous or wrong. Too afraid to get in trouble so I don’t stray.

“Chelsea.” He snags the phone from my hand and I lift my head on a gasp. Who does he think he is? I make a grab for my cell, but he’s holding the phone above his head. Like a stupid little kid, I jump up and try to grab it from him. He laughs, but it’s sorta grim-sounding, and I wonder what’s wrong with me.

I feel … giddy. Did Tad spike my water or my Coke or something? I don’t feel right. My head is spinning and goose bumps dot my skin when I brush against Owen. He’s wearing a white button-down shirt that’s rumpled from what I can only assume is a hard day’s work and black pants. He looks cute.

Fine. He’s more than cute. He’s gorgeous. And sexy. I never think a guy is sexy. Owen sure is.

And maybe that’s my problem.

Owen

I hold her phone over my head because I’m enjoying her hopping and trying to get it. Her tits bounce with every jump and though they’re not huge, I’m still checking them out. That lace top she’s wearing is interesting, offering me a glimpse of skin that’s not overtly sexy but still sorta hot.

And then there’s that ass of hers, which is the stuff of dreams. I’m getting a sick thrill out of watching her jump up and down so I can see that tight little ass move with her every hop.

Yeah. Clearly I need to get laid if this chick’s ass can get my blood pumping.

“Give me my phone.” She sounds irritated as hell and her face is scrunched up adorably.

“Not until you agree to let me take you home.” No way am I going to leave her alone so she can get a taxi when I can do the job.

And no way am I doing this to spend a little extra time with my tutor, either. She was the last person I expected to see standing out in front of my work, fighting off some jackass with grabby hands. I’d just ended my shift, totally exhausted and ready to go home and crawl into bed, when there she appeared, gorgeous in those jeans that fit her like a second skin, showing off those long legs and that …

Grimacing, I shake my head. I need to get over my fixation with her ass.

“Fine. Take me home, then.” She sounds completely irritated. “Now give me my phone.”

“Not until you thank me for the ride.” I’m playing games with her and actually enjoying myself. I haven’t enjoyed … anything for a while. I’m too stressed out. Everyone wants something from me and I keep f**king up. I can’t seem to get my shit together.

She rests her hands on her hips, scowling at me. “You haven’t even given me the ride yet.”

“I know.” I grin and her scowl deepens. I wonder if she hates me specifically, or does she hate all guys in general? “You’re not going to like this, but we have to walk back to my place first, pick up my car, and then I can drive you home.”

“Wait a minute. Your car’s not here?”

“I live ridiculously close. I walk to work.” I shrug. Everyone thinks I’m freaking crazy. They all know who I’m tied to at The District, especially since my sister used to work there. That I walk to work and try to keep everything low key when I could let everyone know the NFL’s newest superstar, Drew Callahan, is my brother-in-law blows their minds.

I’m not about that kind of shit, though. Being obvious only causes trouble. I can just imagine how much greedier my mom would be if I got all flashy like that.

When Chelsea doesn’t say anything, I take that to mean she’s being agreeable. “Ready to go?” I start walking and she falls into step beside me, both of us quiet as we head toward my house. I live right downtown, among the older homes and the frat and sorority houses, not too far from campus. I like being so close, in the midst of everything. Fable thinks I’m crazy, but she got nothing but grief from all of those college types—specifically the type of guys I hang out with now.

Drew put a stop to all that. He’s Fable’s freaking hero. At times, he’s been mine, too.

I glance down at Chelsea, who’s taking about five steps to keep up with one of mine. Her head is bent against the wind that’s blowing over us and she has her arms wrapped around herself like she’s cold.

I’m tempted to slip my arm around her shoulders and pull her into me to warm her up, because I’m hot as hell after working a busy night, but I restrain myself. First, I probably smell, not that I’m trying to impress her or anything. Second, she’d probably punch me in the gonads if I tried to touch her. She’s on edge and I can’t blame her. That stupid loser was trying to manhandle her. What would have happened if I hadn’t been there to stop it?