Stud by Siskind, Kelly (17)

Seventeen

 

Owen

I stared at the e-mail I’d written to Summer, at the cursor blinking at the bottom of the page, wondering if it was smart to hit Send. I hadn’t spoken with her since our days on the D.C. Habitat build. More specifically, since I’d punched her husband in the face.

I reread my message:

Not sure if you want to hear from me, but I’m struggling with some stuff, and you always helped me figure things out in the past. If you’re around and can talk, let me know.

Ainsley’s comment this afternoon, as innocent as it was, had knocked my scattered thoughts further askew. My last meeting (argument) with Tessa had been sitting with me, too. You hear what you want to hear, she’d said. Then Ainsley today, upset she’d been too wrapped up in her emotions to see what Anton had gone through as a teen.

I was beyond proud of her for finally facing her past, but her realization hit home. Maybe I wasn’t seeing my past with Tessa clearly, either. I just didn’t know how to sift through it all.

I flicked the mouse until it hovered over the Send button, paused, then clicked the damn thing, hoping I wasn’t about to stir a hornet’s nest. I didn’t know if Summer had forgiven me for hitting her husband, but I didn’t regret the impulse. I’d also never forget how that day had changed my life.

We’d both been struggling in our marriages and started sharing our woes at some point. At the time, she was the only one in my life who understood what I was going through. When our volunteer shifts overlapped, we’d commiserate. Then one day she got something in her eye.

Her chin had trembled as I leaned over her to carefully remove the wood particle. The second it was out, her tears spilled over and she collapsed into me. “He cheated,” she’d said against my chest. “I saw a text and confronted him this morning, and… God, he cheated.”

I held her and listened, all the while wanting to pummel the asshole. But it was her next comment that sucked the wind right out of me. “I still love him. I’m more afraid of losing him than forgiving him.”

In that moment, I realized I had to let Tessa go. The love Summer still had for her husband had been palpable, even in the face of what he’d done, something I hadn’t felt in years, if ever. Something I knew I’d never get back. Tessa and I both deserved better. So I’d wiped Summer’s tears and kissed her cheek and told her to fight for her man, if that was what she wanted. What I shouldn’t have done was punch him when he turned up that afternoon.

Now I was reaching out to her, seeking advice from the woman whose worst moment had given me clarity.

Her reply came swiftly: I’m around now and would love to catch up. Send me your number.

Relieved at her positive tone, I sent it off. My phone rang moments later.

“Summer Daniels.”

“Owen Phillips. This is a pleasant surprise.”

I bounced my heel. “Wasn’t sure it would be after what I did.”

Her laugh drifted through the line. “That day was nuts. But seeing you punch Mike in the face was a highlight back then.”

I flexed my hand, as though it still throbbed. “Felt pretty good, considering. How are you?”

She paused, and I leaned back in my chair, spinning the pen on my desk. It was nice to hear her voice. The familiarity sucked time into a vacuum, like we’d never lost our friendship.

“I imagine you’re asking if I’m still with Mike, and the answer is yes. We moved past what he did, with a crapload of therapy, but things are really good.”

Not sure I had it in me to forgive a spouse that kind of betrayal, but if there was one thing my disastrous marriage had taught me, it was that there was no judging other relationships. We weren’t privy to what happened behind closed doors. “Glad to hear it. I know you wanted to make it work.”

“It’s not all smooth sailing, and the distrust creeps up from time to time, but we both put in the effort we deserve now. What’s going on with you? Why’d you reach out?”

Summer had always been a straight shooter. It was one of the reasons we got along so well. “I left Tessa shortly after the last day I saw you, and things have been…rough.”

I launched into the whole mess: the cheating scandal that never happened, losing my friends, the divorce from hell, meeting Ainsley. The last bit came out soft and low, words I wanted to sink into.

“You sound smitten.”

“Yeah.” Even thinking about Ainsley had my stress ebbing. “But I need to end this standoff with Tessa if I want things to move forward with us. I didn’t cheat on Tessa, but she thinks I did. Since you got past what happened with Mike, any chance you have advice on how to handle things?”

The sound of clanging bit out, then, “Sorry. Trying to cook a late dinner.” More noises filled the pause. “Okay. The thing about Mike’s affair was, it wasn’t the cause of our problems; it was the effect. We’d drifted, as you know. We had money issues and his father had passed away, and a thousand other stupid things piled on until we didn’t recognize each other. He knows if he ever cheats again, I’ll be gone faster than he can blink, but I believed in us and wasn’t ready to let go. Getting past what he did was about us both owning our part in the cause. So I guess the question is, have you done that? Have you apologized to Tessa? Have you taken ownership of your part in things?”

My heel was restless again, bouncing in time to my agitated thoughts. Tessa held a solid portion of the blame for our failed marriage. For years, I’d blamed her for it all:

Tessa didn’t want kids.

Tessa chose work over me.

Tessa cared more about money than love.

Then came her accusations, and my anger had blocked out the rest, including my role in our collapse. I hadn’t been able to focus on much besides my resentment and hurt. I would cast blame, and she’d bite back, an unending circle of animosity. Never once had I said I was sorry.

The more I spun the idea, the more it made sense. This was the wrench in our divorce.

I’d never accepted my blame.

“Summer, you’re a genius.”

“I try. Look, I’ve gotta go, but I’d also like to apologize.”

“For what?”

“I meant to get in touch after the last day I saw you, but Mike assumed you and I were seeing each other. That’s why he thought you hit him.”

A wave of guilt rocked me. “I’m sorry if I made things worse.”

“Don’t be. Like I said, seeing that made me feel better, and he knows the truth now. But things were too fragile then to reach out to you, and time went on…”

“Don’t think twice about it. I never messaged you, either. But it’s nice to reconnect.”

“It is. Don’t be a stranger.”

We hung up, and I stared at my phone. When Tessa had first accused me of stepping out on her, I’d racked my brain, trying to figure out why she’d thought I’d cheated and who she’d believed I’d been seeing. Summer had come to mind briefly, but we’d never gotten together outside the build, never talked on the phone. Tonight was the first time I’d even sent her an e-mail. It hadn’t made sense, nor did any other acquaintance I’d had at the time.

Unless Summer’s husband had said something to Tessa. Found out who I was married to and tried to start trouble.

If so, nothing to be done about it now. Now was the time to shoulder my side of the blame for my failed marriage. Sift through my actions and offer my own apology.

I kept my e-mail to Tessa short:

You were right that I only heard what I wanted when it came to us. There are things I’ve realized about our relationship, things you deserve to hear that I never said. It’s time we talk instead of fight. I’d like to meet in person.

I steered clear of her crude accusations, Caroline’s damaging text, and any divorce talk. I’d sent plenty of angry messages in the past. This was a new tactic. A last-ditch effort to find acceptance so we could both make peace.

I hit Send, then glanced at the clock. Ainsley would be here in half an hour. Her folks lived in a nearby suburb, so I offered to drive, suggesting she leave her car at my place. It would allow her to relax with her friends. Plus, if she drank too much, I wouldn’t let her drive home. A prick move maybe, looking for any excuse to have her stay over, but I was greedy to sleep with her warm body tucked into mine. I wanted to wake her up with my mouth between her thighs, the best kind of breakfast in bed.

I got ready, nerves emerging as I dressed. She didn’t know I’d taken private ballroom classes this week, preparing for tonight’s clubbing afterward. I’d hated missing her texts, but dusting off my dancing skills so I could woo my girl had been more important. Showing her how much she meant to me was more important.

As long as I didn’t trip over myself and blank on the steps.

By the time she arrived, I was fumbling while trying to tie my goddamn shoes, but one glimpse of my blond bombshell dispelled my nerves. Her golden hair fell around her shoulders, mile-high heels adding a sway to her step. Her purple dress was something from The Great Gatsby—shiny on the top half, fringed on the bottom. Sexy as sin. The sight made me happy I wore a vest with my slacks and dress shirt. I couldn’t wait to spin her around a dance floor.

I clasped her fingers and kissed the back of her hand. “You’re beautiful.”

Her gaze slid down my body. “You’re not so bad yourself. Love your shoes.”

The black-and-white wingtips would hopefully serve me well when waltzing.

We didn’t talk much on the drive, but the tension between us had thinned. Odd how silence had so many decibels, this one ringing with comfort.

Ainsley touched my thigh, and I covered her hand with mine, gathering her fingers in my grasp. I wanted to pull to the side of the road and kiss her senseless. I kept my foot on the gas. She gave me directions, seeming a bit fidgety on her seat, but not with unease. I sensed some kind of excitement, hopefully the idea of me meeting her family. If so, it meant she was finding it in her heart to trust me wholly. The notion made me pleased as hell.

Until I parked on her street.

Her white house was small and nondescript, the neighborhood a bit worse for wear. Some lawns were overgrown, others tended. Nothing was odd or out of place, except for the massive tattooed man leaning on her door frame. His thick arms were crossed over a Lynyrd Skynyrd T-shirt, bold ink splashed up his exposed skin, even his neck. His shaved head gave him a sinister look, and his thick blond beard accentuated the death glare launched our way.

I kept my hands on the steering wheel, ready to peel away if necessary. “Are you expecting someone else for dinner?”

Ainsley was all smiles. “Nope. That’s my dad. My brother, Jason, should be here soonish.”

“Your dad?”

“Don’t worry. I had him lock up his guns. He’s a pussycat, as long as he likes you.”

My balls ran for cover while she hopped out of my truck and practically leapt at the intimidating giant. He lifted her up and flung her through the air.

I struggled to swallow.

Once inside the house, Mason Hall was even more intimidating. He nearly crushed my hand when he shook it, his steely appraisal unrelenting. Ainsley’s mother was a different story. Colleen was as petite as her daughter, rounder curves, her blue eyes tired but warm. She fussed over Ainsley. “Your dress is lovely. Something new?”

Ainsley twirled and the bottom fringe fanned in a circle. “Found it at a vintage shop. Owen likes old movies, so I thought it would be fun.”

The admission hit me square in my chest. I reached for her waist, to pull her closer, but Mason’s scowl deepened. I froze and dropped my arm.

“I understand you just moved back to town, Owen.” Mason growled more than spoke, his voice its own force of nature.

The women drifted into the kitchen, leaving me in the living room to fend for myself. The walls were a light yellow, a few family photos and dried flowers on a mantel above a brick fireplace. There was even a framed ballet poster over their brown couch. Mason Hall looked more of a brute in the slightly feminine space.

I cleared my throat. “I did, sir. I was living in D.C., but spent my teen years in San Francisco. I wanted to come back, be closer to my brother and grandmother.” Unsure whether to cross my arms or let them hang, I shoved my hands into my front pockets.

“And you were married there?”

I bristled at the question, hadn’t expected Ainsley to discuss my history with her father. Not that I had anything to be ashamed of, but his glower darkened with each passing second. “I was married for eight years. We got together young, and it didn’t work out.”

“So now you’re dating around, making up for lost time.”

Jesus fucking left field. “No. Now I’m volunteering at a Habitat for Humanity build, which is where I happened to meet your daughter. I wanted to contribute to the community while I figured things out.” It was bad enough Mason thought I was a player. I didn’t need him assuming I was a deadbeat, too.

He didn’t invite me to sit, didn’t make a move to be polite. “Sounds pretty convenient to me.”

I widened my stance and scanned the room for those guns Ainsley had mentioned. “I don’t have an agenda, sir. Coming home was a way for me to start fresh.”

“Not with my daughter, I hope.”

“Excuse me?”

“I know how beautiful my girl is. Know men see her as a prize. You won’t be the first I run off, and you won’t be the last. Ainsley deserves the world.”

We were in agreement there, and I had every intention of giving her just that. But he was about to get an earful. “All due respect, sir, I care for Ainsley a great deal. She is beautiful, but she’s also smart and funny as hell, and I don’t plan on letting her go, unless she doesn’t want to be with me. But that’s her decision to make, not yours.”

A glimmer lit his gray eyes, a hint of…amusement? Then he cracked his knuckles. The ink on his forearms came into view: Ainsley’s portrait beamed at me. This man was definitely devoted to his daughter.

The front door pushed open before he could pound me to a pulp, probably the other sibling joining us for this Cleaver Family Meal. Jason stopped at the threshold to the living room, assessing us with curiosity. “You must be Owen. I’m Jason, the better-looking sibling.”

“Nice to meet you.” His full cheeks reminded me of our squirrel, Lucifer, but Jason was far from ornery. He had a bit of hipster to him with his plaid shirt and skinny jeans, grinning wide as his attention flitted between Mason and me.

Mason didn’t move to greet his son. Not so much as a pleasantry offered. My girlfriend’s father pulled up to his full height and stepped toward me. Christ, the man was scary. Jason’s grin faded as he surveyed our mounting intensity.

Then he laughed.

Howling, he tossed his head back and smacked his thigh. Mason’s lips twitched, a muffled snort escaping. I stood, baffled.

When Jason recovered, he slapped my back. “She’s screwing with you, man. Dad’s a total wimp.”

What in the ever loving…?

Mason laughed outright, a guttural chuckle that bowled through the tension-filled room. “Sorry, but I can’t say no to my girl. Even when she asks me to scare her boyfriends.”

Ainsley stomped into the room and glared at her brother. “You ruined it. Dad hadn’t even told him about the shallow graves yet.”

Still on edge, I scrubbed a hand over my locked jaw. “Shallow graves?”

Mason planted his large mitt on my shoulder, leaning down close. “The ones out back, when the boyfriends get outta line.” He blew out another snort, his shoulders shaking with humor. He tipped his head to me. “You did better than most. Nice to meet a man who’ll stand up for himself.” He regarded his daughter, a lifetime of fondness in his eyes. “Love you, princess.”

Reeling from Mason’s inquisition and chiding afterward, I hadn’t quite found my feet, but the affection in the house began to set me right. They traded hugs and good-natured jokes. I didn’t sense the irritation that lingered at some family gatherings. As hard as Ainsley’s childhood had been, as much responsibility as she shouldered now, caring for her folks, there was no doubt she’d always been loved.

I stalked toward her, giving her my best playful glare. “You’re in trouble.”

Her eyes sparked with delight. “Punish me later,” she whispered.

I’d be doing that and so much more.

Dinner really was a Cleaver Family Affair. Mason and Colleen teased Ainsley about her childhood Barbie fashion shows. They razzed Jason for having glued a piece of his model airplane to his chin. Vegan lasagna was devoured as Mason asked earnestly about my woodworking. Pride swamped me when Ainsley jumped in to praise my work.

I found myself staring at her across the table, losing trail of the banter, getting lost in her bright cheeks and easy manner. I even caught Mason watching me thoughtfully a couple times. Although no longer worried I’d be having a conversation with his fist, his attention was probing. Based on the closeness between him and his daughter, I’d guess he knew about Ainsley’s ex. The cheating. How it had crushed her. I’d bet he was wondering if I’d hurt his daughter, too.

“I have an announcement.” Mason tossed his napkin on his empty plate. He shared a tender glance with his wife, both clearly pleased about something.

Ainsley perked up, clueing into whatever I was missing. “Oh my God. Did something come through?”

Jason smacked the table in approval. “It was only a matter of time.”

“I got hired at the Tesla plant. Another job opened up. Starts next week.”

Ainsley squealed and hurried around the table, the four of them celebrating with laughs and more hugs. I sat back and soaked in their joy.

This was what I wanted one day, a family of my own. Accomplishments reveled, jokes shared, stories about Barbies and Super Glue remembered. I wanted stability and love, and I wanted it with Ainsley. I knew it in the deep ache anchoring my chest, the way my eyes followed her like a magnet. She was all I could see.

Shortly, she announced we had to meet our friends, not before we checked on the newly drywalled master bedroom—the work Ainsley had paid for but had lied about. I fell harder for her, watching her fuss over her tattooed father, who was wrapped around her finger. I couldn’t count how many times he’d called her princess and had planted a kiss on the top of her head.

When her parents walked us to the door, Mason surprised me by pulling me into a hug. “Treat her nice,” he said so only I could hear.

My throat tightened. I’d never had a father, let alone one whose world revolved around my happiness. I pounded his back. “Like a princess.”

He released me, and Ainsley stood there, blinking rapidly—as though she might cry.

Once I had her buckled into her side of the truck, I trailed a finger along her jaw. “You okay?”

Still glassy eyed, she nodded. “Perfect.”

I leaned down, stole a slow kiss, then gave her a wink. “Not perfect yet, doll. The night’s just begun.”

I’d visited The Scarlet Lounge yesterday and had cringed at the sight of the stark club in daylight. The cavernous space, worn couches, and nicked bar top weren’t the backdrops I’d imagined for my romantic gesture, but it was where the girls wanted to go, so I’d powered on and had asked the owner for a favor.

Tonight the venue was ablaze with warm spotlights. A disco ball spun over couples and groups dancing. Others talked and flirted in clusters.

I placed my hand on Ainsley’s lower back as we met the girls and Jimmy at the raised bar. Introductions were passed around, drinks ordered. Conversation flowed easily as our worlds merged. Hanging out as a group was fun…even when she gave them the play-by-play of her prank, at my expense. She could tease me endlessly for all I cared. I couldn’t keep my attention from flitting to her beaming smile, her bright eyes.

Her quiet affection toward me.

Rachel placed her hand over her heart and said something I couldn’t hear. “Sorry, what?”

She leaned closer and yelled, “You guys are so cute. I can’t believe you’re together.”

In agreement, I squeezed Ainsley’s hip. She pressed into me.

Gwen plucked the olive from her martini skewer and tossed it into her mouth. “The loud music and yelling reminds me of the night we first met Jimmy.”

Rachel froze mid-sip of her wine. “Don’t you dare repeat that story.”

Jimmy was leaning on the bar, his shaggy hair and inked arms probably intimidating to strangers, like Mason’s rough exterior had been. But my old friend was as solid as they came.

He wrapped his free arm around his girl. “Don’t be embarrassed, Sunshine. I love that story.” He nosed her ear and kissed her softly. “It was the best night of my life.”

Rachel shrugged, feigning boredom. “If only I could remember it.”

That sent them on a stroll down memory lane, the couple touching and joking about an alcohol-fueled one-night stand that turned into anything but. They were ridiculously in love. It made me want to hold Ainsley closer, have her pressed against me, under me, surrounding me.

“Speaking of wild nights one can’t remember,” she said, mischief in her voice, “Owen got his ass tattooed and has no idea what the Japanese words mean.”

Gwen nearly coughed up her drink. “Can I see it?”

Ainsley went to answer, but I covered her face with my hand. “Not a chance. In fact, Ainsley made it up. She was hallucinating when we were stuck in a room.”

“Whatever.” Gwen eyed my belt buckle. “One night I’ll get you drunk and pull down your pants.”

Ainsley licked my hand, and I yanked it away, grinning.

“We’ll tag team him,” my traitorous girlfriend said. “It’s hilarious.”

Rachel raised her hand. “I’ll help.”

Jimmy crossed his arms, chuckling. “Can’t wait to tell the guys at soccer.”

These comedians. “You’re all dead to me. And you…” I pulled Ainsley in front of me, her back to my chest, my arms secure around her. “That’s twice tonight you’ve embarrassed me. I might need to spend more time with your folks, find out some dirt on you.”

“You don’t scare me, cowboy. Or should I call you Sinatra? Your outfit is a perfect throwback.”

There was a time joking about my tendency to embody different personalities would have chafed. A reminder I used to search for stories that weren’t mine. Any tale but that of being the second-hand kid abandoned by his mother, the teenager who’d been unsure what kind of man he should be.

I still valued the manners cowboys like my old boss, Bill, had inspired. I’d never tire of losing myself in a classic musical, watching love conquer all. But I liked who I’d become, an amalgamation of these experiences. Especially with Ainsley as my leading lady.

The music shifted, some remixed pop song that had the girls squealing. Gwen and Rachel snatched Ainsley from my grasp and disappeared into the crush of bodies on the dance floor. I settled against the bar, next to Jimmy. A glance at my watch told me my song would be on in fifteen minutes or so, and my stomach bottomed out. This was probably a stupid idea. There were a couple hundred people here, easy.

My lessons this week had been good. Irina was a great teacher, keeping things light and fun as she reinforced the basics I’d learned as a kid. But there’d been no audience those nights, no friends to laugh at us, no woman I’d been hoping to impress.

I took a lengthy pull on my beer.

“Looking kind of green,” Jimmy said.

“Might have done something dumb.”

“Care to share?”

“You’ll know soon enough.”

He didn’t push, and I searched for the girls but couldn’t find them in the growing crowd.

“Where’s Emmett?” Jimmy asked.

I finished my beer and plunked it down. “No idea. I asked him to come tonight, but he was moody. Could barely get a word out of him.”

“Did he end up dating Cameron?”

“Not sure. Why?”

He sipped his wine. “I was at The Blue Door last night, and Cameron seemed…subdued. I asked what was up. He said something about falling for the wrong guy, but I didn’t know if that was your brother.”

The intel gave me pause. Emmett was generally upbeat. Having him blow me off earlier hinted at something being wrong, but I’d had a dance to focus on and a dinner date with Ainsley’s family looming. No time to force him to talk. I added that to my to-do list, along with convincing Tessa to wrap up our divorce, telling Ainsley I was madly in love with her without scaring her off, and getting my woodworking business off the ground. Piece of cake.

I searched for the girls again, still no luck, but my phone buzzed. An email from Tessa greeted me: Talking sounds good. Why don’t I come to you this time? I’m free in a couple weeks.

I’d consider that a win. I replied for her to pick the time and day, then I caught sight of the girls. A couple douchebags were dancing too close, moving closer. Jimmy kicked off the bar, face darkening as he zeroed in on the same scene. Before we could make a move, Ainsley flipped around and said something to the tallest man. I was no lip reader, but there was no mistaking her sass and bite as the men raised their hands and slinked off.

Hot and badass—that was my girl.

“She’s awesome,” Jimmy said.

“I know, man. I know.”

The music shifted then, the song I’d asked the owner to play strumming through the sound system. The dancing ceased, people unsure what to make of the mellow tune. Heart in my throat, I strutted toward Ainsley as the opening notes to Lighthouse’s “You and Me” blanketed the room.