“OKAY. WHO ARE you and what have you done with my best friend?”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes as I walked down 3rd Avenue, one hand on my cell and the other stuffed in the rear pocket of my jeans. “Oh, stop that, would you. I told you, I’m just meeting up with a few people from work.”
“That’s exactly my point. Elle Callihan doesn’t do “meeting up with a few people from work.” What happened to my introverted friend who preferred burying her nose in her book or sitting with a notepad and pen in hand?”
“I’m still that friend. Just think of me as a new and improved version.”
“A new and improved version, huh? So, the version with a social life?”
“Yeah. I guess that’s one way of putting it.” My head lolled back between my shoulders as my feet continued to move. The sky was darkening, a dusky mix of blue and purple with subtle shades of orange, and the air was warm. A gentle breeze blew, kissing my cheeks and exposed arms, and as I rounded the final street corner, my gaze bounced along the row of stores and shops lining the block. I pulled in a deep breath, hesitating. The pub was up ahead, groups of friends filtering in and out of its wooden and wrought iron door, and a sudden onset of insecurity gripped me by the chest. “Grr. Why do you have to do that? Why do you have to make me suddenly doubt myself?”
Drew was right. I didn't do “meeting up with people” in any sense, and not because I suffered from social anxiety or disliked the company of people but because I’d moved on from this stage of my life. I wasn't a party animal, and boozing it up in a bar to impress my coworkers in the hopes they’d like me and I’d somehow magically fit in was the last thing on my mind. The sole purpose of being here was to turn over a new leaf, and knowing Owen wouldn’t be around to make the task difficult made the idea much more appealing—or so I told myself.
Drew’s voice cut through my thoughts. “Stop that right now.”
“What? I'm not doing anything.”
“You’re standing there with your head tilted to the side, your bottom lip wedged between your teeth, and your hand in your back pocket as if you’re contemplating whether or not to walk through the entrance of McGrady’s or dive into the first cab that drives by.”
“I am no—wait, how do you know—” My eyes narrowed, and my body quickly did a one-eighty.
“Now you’re spinning around like a crazy person.”
I glanced around, wondering if he had somehow managed to get the night off and was secretly following me. He wasn’t, from what I could see, but a woman beside me was staring at me as if I was in fact crazy.
I whisper-yelled into the phone. “Stop being a freaking creeper, and maybe I wouldn’t be apt to making myself look like one!”
His obnoxious chuckle I loved on most days floated through the line. “Oh, honey. As much as I’d love to take credit, that is all you.”
Giving him an exaggerated eye roll that he couldn’t see, I let out a pent-up sigh. “Remind me why I’m friends with you again.”
“Because you love me, and I tell you how it is.”
I shook my head, frustrated that he was right, again.
“Listen. Go out and have a good time. Forget about boss man, and call me later tonight to tell me how it all goes, okay?”
“Yeah. Okay.”
“Good. Now go. Just no finding my replacement.”
“Please.” I scoffed, much to his pleasure. “Like that will ever happen. The world can only handle one Drew McFadden.” We both chuckled, and as I disconnected the call, I pulled in a deep breath and shoved my phone into my pocket, walking in the direction of the pub.
As I stepped through the door of McGrady’s, I was instantly bombarded with cheerful laughter and muffled music, and my stomach performed an array of somersaults. I’d been here a handful of times while in college, and the atmosphere was as alive now as it was then. The small hole-in-the-wall location was like many of the bars and pubs you’d find in and around the city. Dark hardwood floors met red brick walls. Low lighting and decor that ranged from vintage pictures to sports memorabilia. An oblong U-shaped bar sat off to the right, its varnish in need of a few new coats and every one of its hard, high-backed stools occupied with a warm body. People, young and old, sat or mingled, a drink within reach and smiles on their faces, and I imagined their chatter involved a recap of their day or maybe even their entire life.
Who could blame them? A bar was usually the ultimate place to let loose and relax, to welcome a new tomorrow or simply wash away the sorrows of yesterday.
Weaving around a group of girls dressed in tight jeans and what could pass as toddler-sized tops, I dodged a roaming bartender whose tray was stocked full of shots and alcoholic beverages. A heavy, muscular arm fell around my shoulders, and I turned to look at the strange body that had suddenly invaded my personal space.
“Hey, beautiful.” With a beer in hand, some of its liquid sloshing over the side of the glass, Kyle leaned in closer, his warm breath in my ear, and an unsettling shiver slipped down the back of my neck. “Didn’t think you were going to make it.”
I resisted the urge to wince and politely ducked myself out of his hold, spinning so I could face him and put a measurable distance between us. “Yeah. Figured it would be nice to get out and meet everyone.” I rocked onto the sides of my flats and stuffed my fingers into the front pocket of my jeans. “Are they here?”
“Yeah. They are sitting at a table in the back.” He glanced in the general direction and then again at me, a sly grin on his face. “We can join them, or perhaps you and I could get out of here and—”
“Don’t even think about it, Lawson.” The thin figure of Jill appeared around a tall man in a suit, and I discreetly breathed a sigh of relief.
I could handle Kyle Lawson. Sure, I could. He was your typical office manwhore who thought he was God’s walking gift to women. And maybe he was to some. He was tall and attractive. He had dark brown hair and even darker brown eyes, and the smolder behind his stare was intense, but it had no effect on me—no hitch in my breath at his closeness and no dancing of butterflies in my stomach when he was near.
“Ignore this loser. You can come join us at the cool kids table.” Smirking, Jill laced her arm through mine, guiding us both over to the bar, where we each grabbed a beer, and then back to the round booth where a few of our other coworkers were gathered.
An exchange of introductions and pleasantries ensued, and as we all fell into easy conversation, the tension frazzling my nerves dissipated. I learned what there was to know about my fellow colleagues: how long they’d worked for Caldwell Publishing, the degrees they held, and if they had families or were enjoying the single life.
I came to discover Jill had been happily married for six years and was a mother of three under three. She enjoyed being a mom but loved her career as well, and I had a hard time grasping the idea of how she juggled so much responsibility. Nevertheless, I admired her strength and determination and her positive outlook, even if I was a bit envious. Only five years older than me, and she had it all together, while I floundered to make ends meet, ignoring my own dreams while trying to keep my parents from being buried under a mountain of debt.
Kyle Lawson was exactly who I'd expected him to be: a bachelor who enjoyed sharing his bed with a different woman every week, especially the college interns who dedicated their summers to Caldwell Publishing. He was twenty-eight, good at his job, and one of the best designers in the industry, which from my understanding, was the only reason why Owen kept him onboard.
The discussion continued around the circle of working friends, all of us occasionally laughing and joking as I learned about the rest of the editorial staff, the other people who worked at the firm who I'd probably never see, much less interact with, and all the latest workplace gossip. I tuned myself out at that point, not interested in the drama nor wanting to be involved, and my thoughts floated to the one person I’d secretly hoped would’ve made an appearance.
“What about Owen?” I picked at the corner of the label on my beer bottle, the condensation slowly tracking down its brown glass surface causing the sticker to peel.
Everyone else was deep in conversation except for Jill, who my question had been directed at, and she leaned in closer. Her red hair fell around her as she rested her cheek on the heel of her palm. She lowered her voice. “What about him?”
“I don't know.” I shrugged, completely unsure as to where I was even going with this or why I’d chosen to bring him up. “He’s so…”
“Moody all the time?” She finished my thought for me.
I nodded, pressing my lips together. “Yeah.”
“He hasn't always been like this. I've been with the company since I graduated college, eight years ago now, and it was Owen who had made me less anxious when I first started. He was kind, humble. Always willing to help. Anything to make me feel comfortable. And no, it had nothing to do with attraction, even though he is quite the looker.”
A rush of heat concentrated in my cheeks at her words. That thought hadn't even crossed my mind, but there was no denying the attraction I felt toward Owen. He was a looker, and I hated that he was, because it made being around him that much harder.
“He was in a serious relationship at the time. Not that he is anymore.”
“Really?” Why my heart skipped a beat at this piece of information was beyond me. I’d known he wasn’t married, judging by the lack of wedding ring on his finger, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t dating or engaged. And as curious as I’d been, I tried not to think about it, because not knowing meant the glances I’d stolen as he sat and worked beside me were merely that—innocent stolen glances which amounted to nothing. Knowledge that he wasn’t romantically involved with someone made them so much more. “Do you know what happened?”
“As far as I know, he loved her, but he loved his career more. She wanted a family and a future. He didn’t want to be bothered with such things. At least not at the time.”
Was that what he still wanted? I wondered if perhaps their breakup was the reason behind his moodiness. Maybe he regretted losing her. “Did his attitude change after that? After the breakup, I mean?”
“No. Not at all. Of course, he was saddened by the fallout. They’d been together throughout college from my understanding, but he carried on, wore a smile on his face most days. It’s only been recent, the last couple of months or so, that he’s been miserable, and no one knows why.”
“Hmm. What about Millie? They seem close, has she said anything or given any reason?”
Jill shook her head. “Nope. And I imagined if she did know, she wouldn’t tell a soul. She is loyal to Owen, protective. Always has been. She’s more family than employee.”
“Owen?” Lawson chose that moment to step right into our conversation. “Why in the hell are we talking about that miserable prick? I swear the asshole thrives on ruining other people’s happiness just because he can’t find his own.”
My mouth fell open, ready to defend the man who had managed to worm his way under my skin, the man I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about since I left the office four hours ago. Kyle was wrong, so incredibly wrong. I had witnessed firsthand Owen making other people’s happiness a priority, the way he had offered hope in a set of eyes that had been subjected to nothing but hopelessness in this cruel and unforgiving world. He may have been miserable, and perhaps he was a prick, but there was a reason for his actions, and now more than ever, I wanted to discover why.
Kyle continued with his slander, and I looked away, no longer caring what spewed out of his mouth. My gaze wandered around the packed bar and then down to the watch strapped to my wrist. Nine p.m. It was time to go. I’d had enough of my new social life for the evening. Grabbing my purse, I turned to Jill to make my excuses for leaving, but from the corner of my eye, I caught the silhouette of a tall figure approaching us from a distance.
My movements stilled.
My pulse quickened.
Owen.
His green eyes latched onto mine, and under the dim lights, they looked even more mesmerizing. Free of his usual business attire, he was dressed in a pair of dark faded jeans and a fitted black T-shirt that clung to a chest full of lean muscle, and I couldn’t help but drink in every delicious ounce of him. I was a woman dying of thirst, and in a bar filled with every beverage imaginable, he was the drink I desperately needed, wanted. Everything faded out as he came closer, everything except the sound of Kyle’s voice, and my throat clogged with unformed words.
Kyle brought his bottle of beer to his mouth, stopping only to release another insult at the very man who now stood directly behind him. “Someone please shove a lamp up Caldwell’s ass, maybe then he’ll lighten the fuck up.” A rumble of a laughter erupted from his throat, while the rest of us sat quietly, unamused.
A nervous rhythm altered the beats of my heart as we all waited for the next interaction to unfold.
Kyle’s brows narrowed in confusion at our lack of reaction, and he curiously turned around. The ball in his throat moved on a slow bob as he swallowed, his eyes widening. “Hey, man. You made it.” He clapped Owen on the shoulder. “We were just talking about you.”
Owen’s gaze drifted slowly around the table before flicking to mine, and there was a hint of sadness that flashed in his green pools.
Oh God. That look. Why did that look affect me so much?
“Yeah. I can see that.” Giving us all a harsh shake of his head, he turned and started back in the direction he had come from, and I quickly reached into my purse and dropped a twenty-dollar bill on the table before rising from my seat in a rush to chase after him. His long strides were a challenge to match, and the bodies blocking my every step had my blood boiling with impatience and frustration. I hated bars. My shoulders collided with several others as I maneuvered through the crowd, and as I reached the door he had exited, I bolted into the cool night air. He was a half a block away, his hands shoved in his pockets and his feet moving at an unrelenting pace.
“Owen! Wait!”
I took off in a sprint, my mind awhirl with thoughts of only him. His reaction to Kyle’s remark and the way he’d looked at me as if it were my mouth releasing the damage had panic twisting my insides. Today, I’d left the office hopeful that our interactions going forward would be smoother, that maybe we’d be able to get along, find common ground. One assumption, one glance, and all that hope had vanished.
The soles of my flats pounded against the concrete as I hurried past the row of shops, many now closed at the late hour, and I called out to him again, louder this time. “Owen!”
Ignoring me, he carried on, and I ran faster, dodging the cracks in the sidewalk made noticeable by the pale white glow of the street lamps. Several cars sped past me on the street, the sound of their roaring engines matching the whooshing of blood in my ears. Finally gaining on him, I made a last attempt to get his attention, to make him stop and listen to what I had to say. “Owen, would you please stop!”
His feet halted. The rest of his body jerked forward with the abrupt movement, and he whipped around, that handsome face of his contorted with anger. “What? What do you want? Because quite honestly, I have nothing to say to you.”
My chest heaved from exertion, his harsh words rivaling the harshness of my breaths, and I resisted the recoil from their forceful impact. He was hurt, clearly, and I tried not to take it personal. Coming to a stop in front of him, I licked my lips and inhaled deeply through my nose. “I didn't… I wasn't…”
Holy moly, was I out of shape.
I dragged in another mouthful of air, feeling the burn in my lungs and struggling to release it on a controlled exhale. “You came.” They were the only two words I managed. The only thought that had filled my head and my heart the second I caught sight of him inside of the bar.
He studied me for a long, drawn-out moment, his eyes moving over every inch of my face, and his expression softened, if for only but a second. “Yeah. I did.”
“I thought it wasn't your scene.”
The muscle along his jaw ticked, and he looked away from me, squinting as he focused on something in the distance. City nightlife surrounded us, so alive and vibrant, and I wasn’t sure if he was simply taking it all in or using it to drown me out. I'd place my bets on the latter.
“Yeah, well, I thought it wasn't yours either.”
I clamped my mouth shut to prevent myself from bursting out my true reason for being there, my deep hidden hope that he would’ve made an appearance because as much as he stabbed at my nerves, pricking them to the point of frustration, I wanted to be near him. I wanted to know him. And that alone was wrong for so many different reasons. “So why did you come?”
Reaching up, he massaged the back of his neck and let out a sigh. “I don’t know, Elle. Beats the hell out of me.”
Disappointment clawed at my chest at his answer, but I pushed it away. He wasn't there for me, and the irrational hope that he was quickly waned as reality and the sound of his voice brought me back to the moment.
“What about you? Why are you here?”
I let out a depressing laugh and shrugged. God. Drew was freaking right. This wasn't me. I needed to return my lame ass home and continue writing my story. The characters may have been imaginary, but at least they were entertaining. “I don't know. Perhaps I was tired of being home and I thought it would be a good idea to come out and get to know everyone.”
“Everyone including Lawson.”
The words fell from his mouth sounding like a question, but I wasn't sure, and something about the way he said them, as if he were jealous and fearful of my response, quickened the beats of my heart. Unmoving, I opted for the truth, part of it anyway. Telling him that he was the only person I had any real interest in getting to know didn’t seem like a smart thing to do. “Lawson’s an asshole.”
Surprised by my bluntness, Owen stood, a look of shock racing across his expression before a breath-stealing grin tugged at the corner of his lips.
Oh God. He was even more beautiful when he smiled.
“Yeah, well...” He reached up again, this time dragging his hand through his hair as the muscles in his arm tensed with the movement. “I could have saved you a trip and told you that.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
There was no stopping the chuckle that floated from my mouth nor the twisting of my insides as his smile widened.
.