I settle back into bed, drink wine from the bottle, and fire up the movie again. I’m feeling sleepy when one of the dogs paws at the door, startling me. Tulip growls, which makes the dogs start whining. I assume they’ll settle down in a few minutes.
They don’t.
By the morning, everyone is cranky and annoyed by the dogs barking. Carly brought them into her room, which is when the barking started…and never stopped. How the dogs didn’t run out of energy is beyond me.
Dad grumbles throughout breakfast and Mom gives him the side-eye the whole time. I’m going into the office with Dad this morning and refill my coffee twice before I’m dressed and ready to go.
“Hey, Dad?” I ask as we head out of the house. Heat creeps up the back of my neck, making me feel like a teenager. “Can you pick me up from Owen’s house? I, uh, need to drop off his truck.”
Dad stops short, turning and raising one eyebrow. “Why do you have Owen’s truck?”
“I, uh, went to dinner at his parents’ last night and drove myself home.”
“Yeah, kiddo, I can pick you up.” Dad looks at me for a few seconds. “You know, I always liked Owen.” He starts forward again, and what he doesn’t say screams louder than anything just spoken.
But it doesn’t matter, because Owen and I had our chance and it didn’t work out. Trying again will only end in heartache.Chapter 17OwenGroaning, I roll over and open my eyes. Did I just imagine that or did the—yep, the doorbell did ring, and now it’s ringing again. Tossing back the covers, I get up. My mouth is dry and my head hurts.
Fuck, I’m getting old. I haven’t had a hangover in a while, which is almost impressive considering how much I drink. But chugging moonshine like tequila shots…never again. Plowing my hand through my hair, I make my way out of the master bedroom and down the stairs. Someone is standing on the porch, and I’m not in the mood for whatever it is they’re selling. Usually, I ignore solicitors until they go away, but this morning I feel like telling them ringing the doorbell around eight AM is fucking rude.
Not caring that I’m only wearing boxers—I plan to just crack the door open anyway—I unlock the front door. Instead of an old guy in a suit asking if I’ve found Jesus, Charlie stands before me.
“Hey,” I say, blinking in the sunlight. She’s the last person I expected to see standing on my porch this early in the morning.
“Owen. Hi.” Her eyes sweep over my body, reminding me I’m only wearing boxers.
“Miss seeing me half-naked in the mornings?” My lips pull up in a smirk.
She purses her lips and holds out my truck keys. “Those days are long behind us.”
“They don’t have to be.” I open the door all the way and inch toward the door frame. “And about last night,” I start.
She holds up her hand. “It’s okay. Logan stopped by and told me why you were drinking Danielle’s drinks. There was probably a better way to go around it, but it was nice that you were trying to help her out.”
My heart does a weird flutter thing inside my chest. “Was that a compliment?”
“Yeah, I guess so. Still doesn’t change anything, but at least I know you’re not a raging alcoholic or something.”
“I’m only a raging alcoholic when I think about how much I fucked things up between us. I miss you, Charlie.” The words come out like vomit and the look on Charlie’s face isn’t much different than if I upchucked all over her expensive-looking shoes.
“Owen.” Her eyes go to the ground and she shakes her head. “I can’t do this, okay? Not with everything else I have going on.”
I swallow hard, feeling like I might actually throw up now. If she says the words, it’s over. Or at least that’s how it feels. I’m not an all hope is lost kind of person. I usually get what I want. I refuse to give up until I do.
Charlie is no exception.
I can’t make her love me, but I can try my damnedest.
“Well, whenever you’re ready then, Charlie. I’ll wait.”
She hands me my keys, blinks tears out of her eyes and nods. “Take care of yourself, Owen.”
I hate how that sounds like a goodbye.
“Charlie,” I blurt. “Wait.”
She stops mid-turn and looks back into my eyes. Sunlight reflects off her shiny blonde hair, which is pulled away from her face with a black headband. She’s dressed like a lawyer today, and while her pencil skirt and blouse are very office-appropriate, she looks like she could have sauntered off the set of a naughty librarian adult film. I’m only wearing boxers and can’t risk my mind going to the gutter. It’ll be too obvious that she’s turning me on.