Page 62 of Stud

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

I harrumphed. (Ten-letter word to express dissatisfaction.) But she was right. We didn’t see each other nearly enough, and I’d done nothing but let my emotions fester the past week. Although I’d visited Owen’s apartment twice, our time together had been heavy. Thick with unspoken tension, weighing down our previously light banter.

We still couldn’t keep our hands off each other, and I’d let myself enjoy flipping through a magazine while my construction hunk massaged my feet, lavishing me with attention. Like he couldn’t do enough to prove his affection. Still, we’d avoid any and all topics involving his divorce and the details he’d withheld. There had also been a few nights where I’d texted him, but he hadn’t replied until much later. Unusual behavior for him.

It was likely him feeding off my distance, but familiar anxiety knotted my belly. Maybe he was lying to me. Seeing someone else.

I needed to get my head together before I lost my mind.

My clutch purse was beside me. I fiddled with the zipper. “Did you know Owen’s wife is accusing him of cheating?”

Rachel pressed her hand to her mouth. “God, no. I wonder if Jimmy knows.”

I waved a dismissive hand. “I’m pretty sure it’s all a fabrication. At least, that’s what Owen says. That his ex is spreading lies. I mean, you should have seen him when he told me. He looked so defeated. I knew he was in the middle of a messy divorce, but she sounds like a nasty bitch.”

Rachel leaned forward to get a clearer view of my face. “Do you believe him?”

Zip. Zip. Zip. I fiddled with my purse zipper as the background pop tunes chased my anxiety. There was no denying how he’d tried to tell me something important that night. I’d pushed him to relax instead, unwind. And his regret when confessing to me had been potent. But if he hadn’t opened up about this, there could be more he was hiding.

“I think so,” I said, clinging to Owen’s best qualities, too many to name. He really had been distraught when talking that night.

“And how do you feel about him? Are things serious?”

The skittering of my heart said it all. “I love spending time with him, laughing and talking, and the sex is out of this world. Everything is just…easy.” And there’s that thing I couldn’t describe—how one glance from him lit me up into a ball of energy.

She plunked my drink back in front of me like it was a double vodka on the rocks. “If he hurts you, I will drive over his nuts with my motorcycle.”

“I already told him I’d cut them off. And when did you get a motorcycle?”

“Jimmy got it for me. It’s way too much, and I tried to refuse it, but I couldn’t rain on his parade. It even has sun rays painted on the tank.”

Sun rays for his ray of sunshine. An adorable nickname for my adorable friend. “You picked a winner with that one.”

“I sure did. But back to Owen. You say you believe him, but you seem wary.”

“I do believe him, but my trust engine is running on empty. I keep replaying how clueless I was about Brandon, how foolish I felt afterward, then I hit meltdown mode.” I was too drained to relive how horrifying it had been to get Caroline’s text, how it still plagued me with doubts. But so much about Owen contradicted her claim, and I was too invested to walk away.

As Rachel made a clucking sound of compassion, my phone buzzed. I pulled it from my purse, my heart fluttering at the sight of Owen’s name. No matter my turmoil, a simple text from him turned me back into a swoopy mop.

Jimmy and Rachel are in town. Let’s all go out tomorrow.

I glanced at my friend to find her grinning at her phone, too. “You just get the same date request?”

“Is that cool? Or are things too weird right now?”

I stared at my phone. My gut told me it was what I needed: to go out with Owen and my friends and forget my nerves. I’d offered him my trust, accepting his version of the truth, so I either had to put the incident behind me…or I had to end things.

The latter riddled me with more anxiety, which meant it was time to forge ahead. Stop allowing my past to mess with my mind.

Come to think of it, there was another thing I could do to suss out Owen’s intentions. My father had never liked Brandon. He’d been polite to him, but my dad was a cuddly teddy bear—a six-foot-five, tattooed teddy bear. For him, not liking someone meant no close hugs or bromance back slaps. Worried he’d upset me, he’d never mentioned his distrust of Brandon until we’d broken up. My sweet father felt partly responsible for the fallout.

Sounds great, I replied. We’ll bring Gwen if she’s free. Maybe invite Emmett? And I have a request.

Anything.

There was no hesitation in his reply. No concern over what I might ask. He really was the sweetest guy. A guy I could picture in my future, if I let my mind wander down that rose-colored road. Hopefully watching him with my father and my family would give me clarity. Come to dinner with me before we go out, with my family.