OWEN CALDWELL WAS an asshole and not just any regular asshole. Oh no. He was the biggest asshole in the history of assholes. And I was losing my guard. My brick walls were crumbling by the second as he stared at me, his words chipping through our silence and, ultimately, my resistance. What was it about this man that had me wanting to punch him one second and pull him to my lips in another? I hardly knew him, but I knew the tingle that coursed through me at the feel of him on my skin was a sensation I’d never experienced before, and I knew the butterflies flying rampant in my stomach was a result of his closeness—of the way he was pushing me in the direction my heart secretly wanted.
I caved.
Turning my gaze away from him, I took hold of the pile of papers he had rudely dumped in front of me and slid them across the desk.
He’d won this battle, but seeing an ounce of smug satisfaction on his face would only cause me to make a decision I’d be sure to regret.
Ignoring him, I went to work.
I spent the next few hours pouring everything I had into those manuscripts, acutely aware that he was right beside me at his own desk, watching every time I brought the end of the red pen to my lips or made a note in the margins. We sat in silence, an environment I was used to working in, but his silence, the way it hovered in the air around him like a looming, black storm cloud, unnerved me.
And the longer I sat there—isolated in my own thoughts—I realized something. Owen Caldwell was intimidating. Not in the way he carried himself, but in the way he stripped me bare, exposed my desires, and tasted my fears… all in a single momentary glance.
With twenty minutes left to my shift, I finished the stack he’d given me, and as I returned it to his desk, he stopped his strokes on the keyboard. His gaze flicked from the computer monitor to my face where it lingered, and I couldn’t quite figure out what the look in his eyes meant.
I swallowed down the sudden lump in my throat. “All finished. Everything is just as you’ve requested.”
He twisted in his chair and dropped his attention to the papers. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
As he picked up the first sheet, I inhaled deeply, fighting to hold back my retort. My nerves swished violently in my stomach, and my pulse quickened as his mouth screwed to one side. Glancing up at me for a moment, he thumbed through a few more pages and then threw them back onto the pile.
“You’re free to go.”
I was free to go?
That was it? That was all he had to say? I'm not sure what I was expecting, but I guess I was waiting for more than what he’d given me. He’d obviously read some of my remarks, and damn it, I wanted to know his thoughts. Had I hit the target or missed the mark?
“That’s it? I’m just free to go?”
He gave me a sideways stare, one brow climbing his forehead. “That’s what I said, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, but—”
“You’re done.” He turned his head, dismissing me.
“I’m done?” My blood ran cold. What was that supposed to mean? Crossing my arms over my stomach, I shook my head and bit down on the corner of my lip. “What is your problem with me? Need I remind you, you came to my work. You sought me out and offered me this position. Why, I don’t know, because you have been nothing but a—”
“Are you finished?”
His stern and cutting tone reverberated off the walls, and I flinched. Leaning forward and resting his elbows on the desk, he scrubbed his hands up and down his face. He looked exhausted, and if I hadn't been too busy feeling out of sorts when it came to him, I probably would have felt sorry for the man.
“I meant you are done, as in finished for the day—free to go home. If you think you have what it takes to make it through another day, then I’ll see you tomorrow, same time.”
“Oh.” Well then. Talk about jumping to conclusions. Allowing my arms to fall limply to my sides, I slowly turned and walked the few feet back to my desk. Without a word, I picked my briefcase up from the floor and then crossed the length of his office.
My hand landed on the knob of the door, and as I was about to pull it open, he called my name.
“Elle?”
I pivoted at the waist, my heart beating unusually fast. “Yes?”
Those emerald green eyes met mine, piercing the distance between us like jagged shards of broken glass. They were harsh. Unfathomably harsh.
“At the very least, there are about a quarter of a million words in the English language. I want one of them from you. I don’t want you to think about your answer. I just want the first word that enters your mind. Okay?”
I stood, a bit wary as to where he was going with this, and then nodded. “Okay.”
“Describe me.”
“Arrogant.” My answer was immediate, as he had asked, and to my surprise, he didn’t react, didn’t show any emotion at all. It was as if my response had been one he expected.
“Remember that.” He held my eyes at the same time an icy shiver slithered across my nape. The intensity of his stare almost had me looking away. “When you’re dealing with the assholes in this industry, I want you to remember the arrogant prick who thickened your skin.”
“Okay. You’ve got approximately fifteen minutes.”
“Ha. I don’t need fifteen minutes. I can tell you in two seconds. It sucked. Absolutely sucked.” Shaking my head, I sighed, my feet moving leisurely as I strolled down the sidewalk in the direction of Rosie’s. “I don’t know what I was thinking, Drew. I guess I sort of hoped I’d be given more responsibility, seeing as I applied for an assistant editor position. He made me fetch coffee. Can you believe that? Coffee.”
“Eww.”
“Yeah. The guy is an ass. I don’t understand what is with men; it’s like they think by being dicks it will somehow make theirs bigger.”
“Hey. I may be gay, but I’m still a guy, and I can assure you we do not all think that. Who knows, maybe he’s being a jerk because he needs to get laid. Sexual frustration. I know when I’ve gone a while without it, I get rather bitchy, but I don’t have to tell you.” He laughed, the line growing quiet save for the sound of his straw squeaking against the lid of its cup as he took a sip from his drink. “Seriously, though. All joking aside. Most CEOs are dicks, Elle. You just need to learn how to work them.”
I rolled my eyes at his ill attempt at joke making. “I am perfectly capable of working a—”
“Are you?” Humor was heavy in his tone. “Remind me. How long has it been exactly?”
“Three years.” Three long, dry years. I had dated Elliot for two years before he’d decided to trade me in for a newer model, and while it sucked because our breakup happened during a time when my entire world felt like it was crashing down, I didn’t miss him or any part of our relationship. And well…I didn’t have time nor care to dive into another. “It’s been three years, but—”
“Maybe he’s not the issue then. Maybe it’s you who is sexually frustrated.”
I shook my head, not believing we were even having this conversation. “How do we go from talking about work to my sex life?”
“You mean your nonexistent sex life? I saw how flustered you were when boss man left the library last night, and he is insanely hot. Let him bend you over his desk a couple of times, and I guarantee—”
“Drew!”
He chuckled a little before his voice turned serious. “Listen. Don’t let him stress you out, okay? I bet there is more to the guy than what you’re seeing. You know better than anyone we all have pages in our stories we don’t want others to read. I’m sure he’s no different.”
Coming to a stop in front of Rosie’s, I dropped my shoulders. “Yeah. You’re probably right.”
The conversation ended after that. Drew needed to get back to work, and I needed to eat, so we said goodbye, and I immediately tugged on the glass door of the restaurant, making my way over to an available booth along the far wall. Rosie called over to me from her position behind the counter, confirming my usual order, and within seconds, she set my drink down in front of me.
As she walked away from the table, I pulled out my notebook and flipped to the last page where I’d left off. I put pen to paper, and in no time at all, I was lost in the words and the story I was creating.
“What are you writing there?”
My head shot up, and the sentence I was in the middle of jotting down ended on an incomplete scribble. Slamming my notebook closed, I pushed it aside and plastered a nonchalant smile on my face. “Nothing. Was just writing a bunch of nonsense.”
Rosie lifted a brow as she swiveled her hip and set my plate of food on the table. “It didn’t look like a bunch of nonsense. It looked like the start of the next bestseller.”
I huffed out a breath of laughter and picked up my napkin, unwrapping it from around my utensils and draping it over my lap. She was too sweet. “Maybe. Guess we’ll see once it’s finished, huh?”
“It will be great. I have no doubt. You just make sure you save me a signed copy. Got it?” Placing her hands on her hips, she gave me an honest wink.
“Will do.”
As she turned on her heels, I glanced around the diner, wondering if it was always this slow on Tuesday evenings. Fridays were my usual diner nights, but after my first day at Caldwell Publishing, I was in dire need of a pick-me-up. There was nothing quite like a little comfort food and a laid-back atmosphere to soothe one’s wounded pride.
Returning my gaze to Rosie, I stopped her before she had a chance to fully walk away. “Hey, Rosie. Do you have a few minutes? I hoped maybe we could sit and talk for a bit?” I wasn’t even entirely sure what I wanted to say, but seeing as I didn’t have my family to vent to, and Drew was working, I needed someone to help me quiet the demons of doubt. Someone who wouldn’t suggest sleeping with my boss as a solution to all my problems.
She didn’t hesitate. “Of course, doll.” Untying her apron, she tossed it into the booth and slid across the blue plastic seat. “What's on your mind?”
“I started this new job today, and it's everything I want...”
Rosie rested her elbows on the table and dropped her chin to her folded hands. “I'm sensing there's a but coming.”
“But...my new boss is a total jerk.”
Rosie chuckled. “Aren’t they all?”
“Yeah, I guess so, but I don’t understand what his deal is. He sought me out, he offered me the position, and yet he’s treating me as if I’m a piece of chewed gum stuck to the bottom of his brand-new pair of expensive, polished shoes.” I sighed, feeling my cheeks flame red with frustration at the mere thought of him. “He humiliated me today in front of a room full of strangers. I mean, who does that?”
Pressing back in her seat, Rosie crossed her arms over her chest and smiled warmly at me. “How bad do you want this job, Elle?”
“Bad. Like, really, really bad.”
“Then screw him.”
My eyes widened, and I swear some of the color drained from my face at her words, probably because they were a reiteration of Drew’s, and if I was being honest, that particular thought had crossed my mind at least three times that day. It’s not like I purposely sat there daydreaming about my boss, but a guy like Owen Caldwell made it impossible to not think dirty thoughts.
As if she could read my mind, Rosie gave me an unashamed smirk before correcting herself. “Not what I meant.” She took my hand in hers, patting it gently. “The road to our dreams is filled with obstacles, sweetheart. And that’s all he is: an obstacle. They all serve their purpose, and usually it’s not until we’ve reached our final destination do we learn if they were placed in our path to make us stronger or set us back.”
Was Owen an obstacle? My thoughts drifted back to the last thing he said to me before I left his office. Had his arrogance simply been a lesson? A test of my strength?
“Thanks, Rosie. I needed to hear that.”
“Anytime. I’m going to leave you to eat. I’ll be back to check on you in a little while, okay?”
I nodded, watching as she slid out of the booth and re-tied her apron around her slim waist. Deciding to make a quick trip to the bathroom to wash my hands, I picked my notebook up from the table and placed it in the large pocket of my messenger bag. Rising to my feet and hooking its strap over my shoulder, I made my way toward the restrooms, quickly slipping inside to wash my hands before responding to Drew’s text asking if I was interested in seeing a movie on Saturday. He was missing me. I knew he was after my sudden abandonment at the library. I would’ve preferred to give them a two-week notice, but I had been eager to jump on Owen’s offer, leaving me no choice to cut my ties rather quickly.
My eyes were still on my phone as I took two steps into the main dining area, and as the bell hanging over the front door chimed, my attention switched to the person casually strolling through it.
My feet stopped.
My heart leapt in my chest, and before his startling green eyes had a chance to connect with any part of me, I flattened my back against the adjacent wall, craning my neck and peeking around the corner to make sure my vision wasn’t failing me.
Owen walked right up to the counter Rosie was in the midst of wiping down, a man beside him who looked far less fortunate than those who lived paycheck to paycheck. Judging by the older gentleman's tattered clothing, a band of tattoos decorating his forearms—including one in fancy script that read “Semper Fidelis”—and a USMC hat on his head, I assumed he was a homeless military vet. Both men took a seat at the front counter, removing their jackets and draping them over the empty stools beside them.
I observed with interest as Owen passed his companion a menu and informed him to order to his heart’s content. My own food remained on the table, growing colder by the second, but I couldn’t move from my spot. From the time they placed their order until both of their plates were wiped clean, I watched them. I watched as this man, who had made my day hell, lifted the spirits of someone who clearly didn’t have a single penny to his name.
“Would you like anything else to go?” Owen’s question was specifically for the man dressed in rags beside him, but that gravelly tone of his carried it throughout the restaurant, floating all the way to where I stood.
A smile tipped the corners of my mouth, and warmth spread across my chest at the kind gesture he extended this person—this person who I’d learned through conversation was a complete and total stranger. I bit down on my lip, waiting to discover Owen’s next move. He swiveled around on his stool, and as he rose to his full height, dragging a hand through his messy brown locks, I stood, completely captured. My breath faltered. My heart did a wild flutter in my chest, and my pulse quickened in what I could only define as pure and utter attraction.
Everything about Owen Caldwell was mesmerizing. His eyes glimmered like dark-green emeralds under the bright fluorescent light, and those full, sensual lips of his were sinfully seductive, drawing my attention to them over and over again. Broad shoulders gave way to a strong solid frame, a well-defined chest, and narrow waist that—for a few brief seconds—I shamelessly imagined my legs wrapped around.
Oh, Elle. Get a grip on yourself. He's your boss, for crying out loud. And regardless of whatever this is, he's still a jerk.
Unable to drag my eyes away, I continued to chew on my bottom lip. I rested my head against the wall and sighed, not liking this strange effect he seemed to be having on me. I tried to remind myself of the way he had humiliated me in front of our colleagues, but to no avail; his magnetic pull was impossible to ignore. Something about his raw masculinity was devastatingly beautiful.
Shrugging on his coat and fixing the collar, Owen stopped at the register to pay his bill before giving a final wave to Rosie and disappearing out the door.
Once I made sure he had completely left the building, I peeled myself away from the wall and walked tentatively over to where their plates rested on the counter, ignoring the growls of my stomach and my own plate of food that was now cold and still waiting for my return.
My hands smoothed across the counter as I plopped down on one of the empty barstools. “Does he come in here often?”
Rosie glanced over at me, confusion denting her brow. “Who, dear?”
I lifted my chin toward the front window where we both watched Owen hand the man two barely crinkled one-hundred-dollar bills.
Realization swept over her middle-aged features as her gaze sprung back to mine. “Are you referring to Owen?”
Pressing my lips firmly together, I gave her a small nod, still not believing everything I’d witnessed. This Owen was different. He was kind and caring, not heartless and demanding. “Yes.”
She smiled in a similar way a mother would when talking about her beloved son. “Every Tuesday. He’s a volunteer at the homeless shelter where we donate the pies. He usually brings one of the residents in and treats them to a full meal before giving them some cash and sending them off with a dash of hope. He’s a great guy, one of the most selfless people I have ever met.” Cleaning up the plates and tossing the washcloth in the bucket behind her, she walked over to where I was sitting and leaned forward, resting her arms on the counter. “Why? Do you know him?”
Did I know him? I almost laughed at the irony, the impossible coincidence of it all.
“Yeah.” A dryness invaded my throat, and I swallowed in search of relief. “He’s the jerk I was telling you about.”