Look at him and look at me.
He’s her age, more her age, anyway. A good-looking guy, the typical model-like features that graces the covers of magazines. Here I am, about fifteen years older than she is, and I’m no damn model.
“She hasn’t looked at me once, or Sebastian, Grayson, or Jaxon. No one, Owen. Just you. It’s too soon to tell if she’s looking at you because she only trusts you, or if it’s something more. All you can do is wait, Owen, but I think… I think she likes you.”
“Owen, look!” Jolie runs up to us, cheeks red from grinning so much, and lays another dress over my arm. It’s white, flowy with tulle at the bottom. I think I’m starting to understand her style. Simple, elegant, flowy. She really likes the sway of material. This one reminds me of a wedding dress, the kind the bride wears to the courthouse or after the main ceremony.
“I love it.” My arms are starting to get heavy from the stack of clothes she’s throwing on me. “Are we ready to try on?”
“Oh yeah, we’re going to have a show!” Gabriella says as she opens the fitting room door.
Jolie grabs me by my free hand and drags me forward, and a dress drops from my hold, falling to the floor.
“I got it,” Heaven says from behind me, picking it up and following us.
When we get to the fitting room, I hang the forty pieces of clothing in the room on the silver rack. Heaven reaches around me and hangs a slinky … uh … oh wow.
It’s a nightgown … that’s sheer.
And the image of her naked underneath it is inappropriate. I squeeze my eyes shut and go to step out of the room when the wall jumps in my way. I smack my head against it, and Heaven snorts in laughter. I press my hand against my head and curse, hoping Jolie didn’t see me.
“Are you okay?” she asks, laying her hand on my lower back.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I open my eyes, and that damn fucking gown is there, mocking me. Why does she have that? All of her dresses are conservative. I’m thrown for a loop, and now I can’t stop imagining her naked.
I can’t.
Stop.
“I’ll … uh … I’ll wait out here. That’s … that’s nice,” I point to the nightgown and walk out the door, shutting it behind me. I lean against it, relieved that I’m away from the sexy piece of clothing, even though it’s seared into my mind.
Forever.
For the first time in my life, the woman I have on my mind isn’t my wife.
Everyone in the room is staring at me and smiling.
“Dude, you got it bad,” Heaven states while giving me a slap on the shoulder.
“I think it’s sweet,” Quinn says. “Our Owen deserves to be happy for once.”
“I’m happy.” I’m a bit offended even though I don’t mean to be. I’ve been happy. Kind of.
“You haven’t, but that’s okay.” Jaxon sits down on a black velvet couch that is directly in front of the fitting rooms, and he pulls Quinn down on his lap. “Happiness isn’t natural. It takes time to realize you can finally have it. It’s an emotion that’s built and made, not something you’re born with. Happiness can be taken away, as you know, but it can come back, Owen. It might be back for you,” he suggests, patting the seat closest to him, informing me to sit.
“There’s nothing happy about her situation.” I place my hands on my thighs as I sit down like he silently asked. The velvet feels good against my arms, and the cushions are soft.
“I know, but you know what, in this moment, there’s plenty for her to be happy about; just think about that,” Grayson inserts as he takes the seat at the end, Finley sitting on his lap.
“Yeah, like that little nightgown she has in there.” Heaven whistles, and my knuckles pop as my fingers clench to create a fist. Is he thinking of her naked? “That’s surprising. I can’t believe she picked that. I bet—”
“You better shut that fucking mouth, Heaven.”
“Oh, big bad wolf is getting mad. Wonder why.”
“Heaven, stop.” The order coming from Jaxon has Heaven zipping his lips.
My fingers tap on my knee as we wait for her to walk out in the first outfit. God, I hope she doesn’t walk out in that nightgown. No, fucking way. I won’t be able to think straight with Heaven’s eyes on her, with anyone’s eyes on her.