Falling for Owen (22 page)

“Thanks for making this easy.”

“It is easy. No reason to make it hard because things didn’t go exactly as you planned. How do you like your potatoes?”

“Cooked,” he answered to make things easy for her.

“That I can do, no problem.”

“If I wasn’t a total mess, I’d hug you.”

“Then you owe me when you come back.”

“Deal.”

C
LAIRE WAITED FOR
Owen to leave the kitchen before she poked through his cabinets and pantry for what she needed. She fell in love with the kitchen. He may have gone bachelor bare in the living room, but he’d spared no expense in the kitchen, adding dividers in the drawers for utensils. They slid in and out and closed by themselves. She loved the huge refrigerator. He may not have very much in the way of actual food—beer took up one whole shelf—but the sheer size and newness of it made her jealous.

Her fridge didn’t work nearly as well. The vegetable drawer froze her lettuce and anything on the door was barely above room temperature.

The contents of Owen’s fridge implied he’d shopped for their meal, but not for much more. Maybe breakfast, judging by the two cartons of eggs.

The thought of staying and making Owen breakfast in the morning brought out another smile and made her belly glow warm. She couldn’t remember ever smiling this much when thinking about a man. Oh, her ex had made her smile in the beginning, but they dimmed with suspicions of his ulterior motives. Owen wanted her in his bed, but that isn’t all he wanted. He wanted to get to know her, to please her with this dinner date, and to protect her from any more trouble.

Settled into the kitchen and Owen’s home, she went out the back door to the patio and smiled at the huge stainless steel grill. Such a guy thing. She liked the black wrought iron round table with chairs. The small puddles on the deck told her he’d spent some time washing things down before going to the barn to take care of other chores. A potted red geranium stood alone by the deck rail. The other pots were filled with dirt, but no plants. The backyard was nothing more than hacked-down weeds. The beauty of the yard came from the two towering trees on both sides of the patchy grass. Their thick branches sprawled high over the yard, deck, and house, shading everything. Dappled light filtered through the bright green leaves. She loved the peaceful cocoon they made over this lovely backyard spot.

She opened the lid of the grill, thinking to give it a clean and heat it for the potatoes, but didn’t need to. The man kept a clean grill. She turned the knob and lit the burners. Lid closed, she turned to the pile of cushions by the back door. They still had the tags on them. He’d bought them for their date tonight. She tore off the tags and set the cushions on the chairs. Pleased with the dark green color against the black metal and the yard, she smiled.

In the house, she found a cylindrical clear glass vase and a tall pitcher. She went back into the pantry and grabbed a fat pillar candle and three thin taper candles. She put the pillar in the pitcher. She found a lighter in a drawer and lit one of the tapers and dripped wax into the base of the vase and placed each taper in the hot wax to keep them standing. She blew out the candle for now and took her makeshift candle holders out to the table along with the lighter. They’d dine by candlelight.

She went back into the house, pulled foil from another drawer and tore off a long sheet. Back in the pantry, she grabbed the bag of potatoes and an unopened jar of minced garlic. At the sink, she washed the potatoes and set them on the cutting board. She cubed them and dumped them into a bowl along with a tablespoon of the minced garlic. She sprinkled them with salt and pepper and a drizzle of olive oil. She mixed the whole lot and dumped the concoction onto the tin foil she’d laid out. She tore off another sheet of foil and covered the potatoes, sealing the edges into a packet. She cleaned up the mess, wiping down the cutting board, and slid her potato packet onto the board to take out to the grill. She lifted the lid and slid the packet onto the rack and closed the lid.

Nearly done, she went back into the kitchen, chopped the mixed greens and put them in the large bowl. She added chopped carrots, tomato, cucumber, and red onion. She found a jar of sunflower nuts in the pantry and sprinkled them over the salad, along with the shredded cheddar cheese she pulled from the meat drawer in the fridge. She covered the pretty salad with plastic wrap and put it in the fridge to keep chilled.

Finished with those portions of the meal, she topped off her glass of wine, poured another for Owen, and took them both out to the table to wait for him.

Chapter Twenty-Three

O
WEN STEPPED OUT
of the lukewarm shower still mentally berating himself for botching his date with Claire so badly.

“You invited her here to impress her with dinner and be alone with her, and here you are, late for the date, smelling like horse shit when she arrives, and she’s downstairs making dinner for you,” he said to his wet mug in the mirror above the sink. “Just great.”

In a hurry, he toweled himself off, swiped the towel back and forth over his dripping hair before dropping it to the floor and grabbing his brush. He ran it through his hair a couple of times to get it in order. He rubbed his hand over his scruffy face and thought about shaving, but didn’t want to take the time.

“She’s waiting for you. Hurry the hell up.”

When did he start talking to himself? The woman was making him crazy, because all he wanted to do was rush downstairs to be with her.

Finished in the bathroom, he walked naked into his bedroom and swore at the unmade bed. His back to it, he grabbed a pair of boxer briefs from the dresser drawer and pulled them on. Going with Claire’s casual style, he grabbed a dark blue long-sleeve Henley from the closet, put it on, and dragged on a clean pair of jeans. He dismissed socks and shoes and grabbed a pair of sheets from the linen closet in the hall to make the bed.

Wishful thinking? Maybe. But better to be prepared for anything. Especially when a woman like Claire was involved. She’d had this look about her earlier when she commented on the many ways he dressed. She wanted him. He didn’t know if she’d give in to that need tonight or not, but God, he wanted to seduce her into his arms and into his bed. She’d already worked her way under his skin and into his head. He’d handed her the reins to that part of their relationship, and he wouldn’t push her. He wanted to push and had to restrain himself from dragging her to his bed, but for the first time, it seemed important to take his time and allow her to do the same. They were building something here, something he wanted to last.

He threw the off-white quilt over the matching sheets and straightened it. He stuffed the pillows into their cases and tossed them on the top of the bed, pulling the cover over them. Finished, he scanned the room and swore. He picked up the dirty clothes from the floor and chair by the window, walking into the bathroom to toss them into the hamper along with his soggy towel. He pulled out two clean towels and hung them on the bars by the shower. He didn’t know if he’d need both come morning.

Relatively at ease that everything was in order here, he left his room and pounded down the stairs, rushing into the kitchen to help her with the rest of the preparations. He stopped short in the clean, empty room. Unwarranted panic rushed through his system that she’d given up on him and tonight’s date. He rushed to the back door and sighed his relief when he spotted her sitting at the table, her glass of wine in hand, her head resting on the seat as she stared up at the trees.

Beautifully relaxed, she drew him to her even with her back to him. Tempted beyond reason, he leaned over the back of her chair, registered her surprise in her wide eyes before they went soft with her smile, and kissed her. Spiderman had nothing on him and the upside-down kiss. He took his time and she relaxed into the cushion and him. Her hands came up and latched on to his biceps, sliding up to his shoulders and back down again. He took the kiss deeper, sliding his tongue past her sweet lips to tangle with hers. Those lovely hands of hers slid back up to his shoulders. He wanted to release the arms of the chair and cup her full breasts and mold them in his hands, but refrained, keeping to his promise to keep things light. Still, the woman tempted him into sin. He’d go willingly and with a smile.

Before things got out of hand, he kissed a trail from her lips, along her jaw, and down her neck. Since her head angled back, he had the perfect angle to nuzzle the soft skin under her chin. Her hands swept over his body to his neck and her fingers raked through his hair and she gripped on and held him tight.

“You smell so good.”

“I think that’s my line,” he said against the spot where her neck met her collarbone. She smelled of sunshine and flowers. Sweet and heady. “You’re just glad I don’t smell like horseshit anymore.”

She giggled and the vibration in her throat tickled his lips, drawing him in to press harder to the thundering pulse point. Her fingers glided through his damp hair, and she held on and pulled his face away so she could look at him.

“I put the potatoes on the barbeque. You need to get the steaks.”

He needed to get her naked and underneath him. Too bad the good guy in him reminded him again to take things slow. The bad boy made him lean down and kiss the top of her rounded breast above her pretty pink sweater. He wondered if her nipples were the same pale pink, or a darker dusky color. He desperately wanted to find out.

He stood and walked around the chair to face her and give her some space. She reached out and took his hand and gave it a squeeze.

“You look great.”

“Again, I think that’s my line,” he teased. “I’m clean and don’t smell like a horse. A definite improvement. And now I can touch you without mucking you up. I’ll get the steaks.”

This time he gave her hand a squeeze and left her sipping her wine, a pretty blush on her cheeks after the kisses they’d shared. He pulled the platter of steaks from the fridge and unwrapped them. He snagged the steak rub from the counter by the stove and headed back outside. Claire stood in front of the barbeque, moving the foil packet over with a pair of tongs to the side to make room for the steaks. He set the steaks on the shelf at the side of the grill and leaned down and kissed her shoulder just above the sweater. Her long hair draped over her other shoulder and cascaded over her breast and down to her waist. He loved her golden hair. So bright and pretty in the dimming light.

“Sweetheart, sit down. Let me do this. You’ve done enough after I blew the setup of this date.”

“Nonsense. I don’t mind helping.”

“You certainly did a better job with the salad. I wouldn’t have thought to add the sunflower seeds and cheese. It looks really good.”

“You’re welcome. The potatoes are going to be even better.”

“See, I would have just tossed them on to bake. What did you do?”

“Diced them, added some garlic, salt, and pepper, a little olive oil. They’re going to be amazing.”

“You’re amazing.” He gave her a quick kiss on the side of the head, stepped beside her, and grabbed the tongs to put the steaks on the grill. They sizzled when they hit the hot metal rack, and he closed the lid to let them cook.

“I love it back here,” Claire said, a touch of nervousness in her voice he hoped to erase tonight. He wanted her to be comfortable with him all the time.

“While the house and barn are in good shape, despite the lack of furnishings in all the rooms, the yard still needs some work. I haven’t had the time. Maybe you can help me out with that. I liked the planters and garden space you did at your shop.”

“You could use some color back here. The trees provide a lot of shade and will help cut down on the amount of water you’ll need. You could do some taller bushes along the back by the fence line and other pretty flowers along the sides and in front of the deck. They’d outline this space from the rest of the pastures.”

“I’ll have to hit the nursery soon, I guess. You could help me plant, and I’ll cook for you again.”

She gave him a sweet smile, but didn’t quite commit. “Like I said, it’s a pretty spot back here.”

“Not as pretty as you.” He loved it when she giggled like that. “I’ll get the plates and silverware. How do you like your steak?”

“Medium rare.”

“A girl after my own heart.”

Her gaze met his and she said, “I believe I am,” surprising him with her candor.

He waited for the nerves, the shackles of commitment clamping down, but nothing happened. Well, nothing but an easing in his chest he hadn’t really been aware of until she confirmed she wanted something more. With her, he wanted more. But how much more? A relationship, yes. But did he want the whole deal, a wife and family? He wanted that, and hoped Claire wanted it, too. He’d have to wait and see if they could build it together.

Chapter Twenty-Four

C
LAIRE PUSHED HER
empty plate away, leaned down, and pulled off her boots, dropping them on the deck. If Owen went barefoot, no reason she couldn’t make herself comfortable, too. She leaned back and rested her hand on her belly.

“That was a great steak.”

“Can’t go wrong with a thick filet and a beautiful woman for dinner.”

She smiled, settling in and relaxing, her glass of wine in hand. She scooted her chair to face Owen and raised her feet and rested them on his chair between his spread legs. His warm hands settled over her toes and he rubbed, avoiding her wounds, his eyes locked on her face.