Thrill Me (One Night with Sole Regret 9)

upstairs.

Are you on your way? Caitlyn had messaged him almost an hour ago.

He smiled, glad she was as eager to see him as he was to see her. Soon.

He also had a message from Tony, who owned the series of underground sex clubs Owen frequented. This weekend’s passphrase is “Tangerines go well with mangos.” Good for entry at any of my clubs until Monday.

Owen wasn’t sure if he’d take Caitlyn to another club or not, but if they did decide to go, he knew he could get them in.

“I’m ready,” Lindsey said.

She looked so fresh and innocent with her recently scrubbed face and simple ponytail that he stuffed his phone into his pocket as if she’d find it offensive. He knew Lindsey was freaky in the sack from experience, but she looked positively angelic.

“Do you want to take the Jeep or walk?” he asked.

“Walk?”

“It’s about a block. There’s a sidewalk.”

Lindsey blinked at him. “You, Owen Tags Mitchell the rock star, live a block away from your mother?”

“Hey, at least I don’t live with her,” he said. “Anymore.”

She laughed and rocked forward on her toes as she leaned closer to him. “We can walk. I could use the exercise.”

He insisted on carrying her bag as they headed out the back door and down the driveway. As they passed his neighbor’s house, Mrs. Worth stopped watering her geraniums to stare.

“Did you get married, Owen?”

“Uh, no, Mrs. Worth,” he said, feeling the heat of embarrassment rise up his throat and face. Perhaps they should have taken the Jeep after all.

“Does your mom know you’re home?” Mrs. Worth called as they passed the end of her picket fence.

“Not yet. We’re going to see her now.”

“Maybe we should have called first,” Lindsey said.

“And ruin the surprise? My mom loves surprises.”

Lindsey didn’t look convinced.

The houses got increasingly larger as they traveled up the block. They passed what was now the worst house on the block since Owen had fixed up his once-dilapidated home, and he noticed a For Sale sign in the yard. Perhaps a project for the winter, he thought. He could buy it, do the work, and resell it. Or . . .

He glanced down at Lindsey. “What do you think of that house?”

She paused at the end of the overgrown lawn and studied the Tudor-style cottage. The timbers and the once-white stucco between them could use fresh paint, and the brown shingles were curled in spots. They definitely needed to be replaced.

“It needs a lot of work,” she said.

“I like working on houses. My house had squirrels living in it when I bought it.”

“So you’re thinking about buying this dump so you can live even closer to your mother?”

Owen laughed. “Maybe.” Or maybe when Chad got back from Afghanistan he’d like a place of his own. Also near their mom. “My brother might like it.”

“You have a brother?”

“Yep. Three years older. Chad is a soldier. The dog tags I wear are to honor him. He’s been off at war, but he’s coming home soon.” Owen scowled at his words. Such a lame description for such a remarkable man.

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“Oh,” he said, remembering the last conversation he’d had with Chad. “You can’t tell my mom he’ll be home in a few weeks. He wants to surprise her. She loves surprises.”

She grinned at him. “You said that already.”

“It must be true then.”

They crossed at the next corner, and Lindsey gawked at the large kid-friendly park across the street.

“It’s a great neighborhood. Good schools too,” Owen said. “The reason I met Kellen is because they were doing this experiment where they bused in a group of underprivileged kids and tracked their progress in our school district. I think they were trying to figure out if it was the low-income schools or the kids’ home lives that made it so difficult for them to succeed and get ahead.”

“Kellen is poor?” Lindsey asked, tearing her gaze from the perfectly tended park to look at him.

“He isn’t now.”

“And you never were.”

“My parents are average middle-class citizens.”

She shimmied her shoulders. “Who raised a rock star.”

“And a war hero,” Owen reminded her. That was far more important in his book.

At the end of the block, they stopped before a large gray house surrounded by a sturdy wooden fence. Dad said it was to keep kids out of his yard, but it was really there to keep the dogs in the yard.

Hawn, the family’s golden retriever and who-knew-what mix, began to bounce excitedly at the gate, barking a friendly greeting at him.

“I probably should have asked if you like dogs before I brought you here,” Owen said, reaching over the gate to give Hawn a vigorous rub on her furry neck.

“I love dogs,” Lindsey said, holding out her hand for a sniff. It was soon covered in dog spit as Hawn immediately accepted Lindsey as a friend. Of course, Hawn accepted every decent person as a friend.

“Watch the little ones,” Owen said as he opened the gate and ushered Lindsey inside.

As he and Lindsey shuffled carefully up the path, their three-legged Chihuahua, Maxie, and blind-in-one-eye Jack Russell, Toby, raced around and around their feet as Hawn leaped gleefully beside them. An unfamiliar gray kitten was sunning himself on the front porch next to the aging pair of ginger cats named Betsy and Ross.

“Looks like Mom picked up another stray,” Owen said as he stretched out a cautious hand to give the newcomer a scratch behind the ear. The cat yawned and gave the now-sniffing-him Hawn an annoyed look before curling his crooked tail more securely around his body and returning to his nap.

“You have a lot of pets,” Lindsey observed as she bent to give Maxie and Toby the attention they craved. Maxie immediately peed in her excitement, but managed not to wet Lindsey’s sneaker.

“Always have,” Owen said. He was certain his mother would be over the moon to help Lindsey get back on her feet.

He rang the doorbell and waited for Mom to answer. The door was likely unlocked, but he’d once walked in on his parents engaged in a nooner on the foyer floor and would never again surprise them by letting himself into the house. He would also never look at his great-grandmother’s Persian rug quite the same way.

“Owey,” Mom said as she threw open the door and hugged him. “Mrs. Worth just called and said you were on your way.”

“So much for surprises,” Owen said under his breath. Mrs. Worth had babysat him when he’d been in elementary school, and apparently she’d never thought to stop.

“And this is . . .” Mom asked. Her dark blond bob shifted forward to cover one blue eye as she inclined her head in Lindsey’s direction.

“This is Lindsey . . . uh . . . What’s your last name?”

“It had better be Mitchell,” Mom said, giving him a stern stare that made him feel about three inches high.