The Sound of Consequence (Puget Sound ~ Alive With Love Book 1) (12 page)

Tonight she wasn’t reserved at all, though. She cheered for Seattle as if she’d been a fan her whole life. She knew the players by name, cussed at the refs on bad calls, and booed the other team along with the other fans that surrounded them. Owen had more fun watching Stacie than watching the game. He liked, no, more than liked, this side of her, so aggressive and assertive.

At halftime, they visited the concession stand. Stacie ordered a hotdog, bag of peanuts, and bottle of soda. Owen also got a hot dog and soda, but went for popcorn instead of peanuts.

“We can head downstairs if you want a beer,” he said.

Stacie shook her head. “Let’s have a drink after the game.” She pumped ketchup, mustard, and relish on her hotdog at the kiosk. Owen did the same and grabbed some napkins.

A woman stood next to Stacie at the kiosk. She’d set her tray of nacho chips down and waited for Stacie to finish with the pumps. Owen saw Stacie look at the chips with interest and just as he was about to ask her if she wanted an order, she reached over, grabbed a chip, dipped it in the cheese and ate it.

Too surprised to ask her what the hell she was doing, he wondered if he’d actually seen that just happen. It was too bizarre. From the expression on the woman’s face, Owen knew it was real.

When Stacie, looked up, her gaze shifted from Owen to the woman and back to Owen again. After she swallowed the chip, she said, “What?”

Owen raised his eyebrows and shifted his eyes to the nacho chips. Stacie followed with her eyes, then looked up at the woman standing next to her. The woman was obviously disgusted. Probably a little pissed off, too. Stacie looked back down at the chips and back to Owen, like she was trying to figure out some great riddle. Then all of the color drained from her face as she gasped and looked back to the woman.

“Oh no! I’m so sorry!” she said. “Oh, Gatsby, I have no idea what came over me.” she rubbed her forehead as if in pain or trying to sort out some kind of reasoning. “Please, let me go get you a new order.”

The woman sneered at Stacie like she wanted to strangle her. “That won’t be necessary,” she huffed and walked away without pumping anything onto her hot dog.

Stacie’s face burned red and Owen wanted to do something to comfort her. Near the front lines of a military conflict, he was quick to fix problems or at least duct tape a tense situation. Now, though, he was so shocked by the whole scene that his feet stayed firmly planted on the concrete, his brain like a leader book with a blank page. Stacie just stood there, shaking her head for a minute, then she looked at Owen. “I have no idea why I did that.”

She took the chips that the woman had left and dumped them in the trash can.

“I think she wanted you to have them,” Owen said, trying to make light of the situation.

“I don’t think so but I can’t blame her for leaving them.”

“Do you want me to get you an order?”

Stacie shook her head emphatically and Owen could see she was embarrassed, so he let it go. She’d probably just been caught up in the adrenaline rush from the game. It really wasn’t that big of a deal.

“Do you want to go back to our seats or take in the view?” he asked, opting to leave the whole ordeal behind them.

“View,” Stacie said, rushing away from the concession stand.

At the southeast corner of the stadium, they both leaned against the rail, devouring the hot dogs without speaking. Owen finished first and started pointing out some of the Seattle landmarks.

“We could go to Pioneer Square tomorrow,” he said, turning away from the city and looking back at her. “Have lunch and take the tour.”

The words had barely left his mouth before Stacie pressed her body against his and kissed him. It was a deep, penetrating kiss, the kind with intentions behind it, even more so than when she’d greeted him in Bremerton and avoided conversation on the ferry. Her hands explored his body, first running through his thick hair, then moving down his arms and back up his chest.

Desire rushed through Owen’s body despite being very aware of where they were. This time, the public place was filled with tens of thousands of people. Even though they were alone now, there was no privacy where they stood. When Stacie’s fingers skimmed along the waistline of his jeans, Owen forced himself to push her gently back.

“Baby,” he said, locking eyes with her. “What are you doing?”

“I think you know what I’m doing,” she said, trying to move closer. Owen locked his elbows to keep space between them. Stacie made a pouty face.

“Don’t you want to see the second half?”

Stacie gave Owen a crooked smile. “That’s what I was going for.”

“I meant the game.”

“Oh, the game.” she sighed. Turning around, she led the slow march back to their seats.

Despite her halftime behavior, Stacie seemed to enjoy the second half of the game with as much energy and enthusiasm as she had the first half. When Seattle finally scored and the confetti flew from the cannon just behind them, she danced around, collecting a bunch of the pieces and throwing them in the air again.

God, she was beautiful. So carefree and happy. Her smile didn’t stop with the curve of her mouth. Her entire face beamed with happiness. Owen had never seen such unbridled joy and even though this moment would forever be burned in his memory, he snapped pictures to capture the moment digitally.

Owen enjoyed every moment of the second half of the game, again spending more time watching Stacie, just as he had in the first half. The Sounders won, three goals to two, after rallying two goals in the final minutes of the second half.

Stacie talked about the game, reliving the highlights, as they walked to the Irish pub just a few blocks away. Halfway to the pub, she stopped their forward movement and looked around, as if suddenly realizing where they were.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“To the pub for a beer.”

Stacie squeezed Owen’s hand tightly, smiled at him with that sexy little smile he was growing to love and raised one eyebrow. “You have beer at your place,” she said.

Owen smiled. His fridge was pretty well stocked. “You don’t want to go the pub?” he asked playfully.

Stacie moved closer, pressing her body against his. She skimmed her hand up the edge of his button fly and kissed him the way she had during halftime.

“You don’t want to go to the pub,” she teased across his lips, evidence of that having revealed itself with the hard bulge under his button fly.

She was right. Owen didn’t want to go to the pub. He thought it would be an opportunity to get Stacie to talk so he could learn more about her. But when she kissed him and touched him like that, there was only one thing he wanted to do with her and it wasn’t talk.

As they headed toward his place, her cell phone chirped. She grabbed it out of her bag and answered it with a cheerful voice.

“Hey Jenny.”

She stopped dead in her tracks, the smile gone from her face.

“What?” she snapped. Panic filled her eyes. The way they darted around made Owen want to look over his shoulder for a sniper.

“I, uh,” her eyes rested on Owen for a moment, then she turned away, speaking more quietly. “I can’t really talk about that right now.”

She started pacing in small circles on the sidewalk. “OK, fine...Yes, everything.” Headlights from passing cars illuminated the street where businesses had closed up for the night. Owen stood in the middle of the sidewalk near where Stacie paced, letting walkers in both directions pass him on either side. “You didn’t let him follow you home, did you…yeah, yeah, I know. Thank you.”

She turned back to Owen, her mouth curving up on one side as she looked him over. There were probably people who got offended by looks like that. Not Owen, though. Coming from Stacie, it turned him on. “Yeah, I’ll be home later. Don’t wait up.”

“Is everything all right?” Owen asked when she returned the phone to her bag.

“Perfect,” Stacie sang, but the panic remained in her darting eyes and forced smile. She stepped out, her body tense with each heavy step.

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” she said, stepping up the pace.

One-word answers were among Owen’s pet peeves, especially when they came from a woman. It was a sure sign something was very wrong.

Owen caught up and grabbed her wrist, jerking her forward momentum to an abrupt stop. She glanced at his hand, the panic replaced by fear.

He dropped her wrist, his own panic pumping the blood through his heart at a vigorous pace. He’d never hurt her. Never. Dammit, he wished he could take that back. He didn’t think he’d grab her that aggressively, but the fear in her eyes told him otherwise. When Stacie took off at a sprint, Owen shook off his panic and regret and ran after her.

The shock of Jenny’s news
weighed like a brick in Stacie’s chest. She focused on keeping her breathing steady as she lay in Owen’s arms. Despite the comfort his warm hold offered, and the respite the sex had provided, the restlessness wouldn’t subside.

It wasn’t just the call from Jenny. It was also her behavior at the soccer game. And on the ferry. Then running like a lunatic through the streets of Seattle.

Owen must think her a complete nutcase.

His breaths were short, not long and heavy the way they were when she had watched him sleep yesterday morning, so she was sure he lay awake as well. That made it difficult to leave. He wouldn’t let her go easily and she didn’t have the willpower to resist him.

The consequences of everything she’d done since the accident were catching up with her. It was not OK to act like a horny teenager in public. Nor was it normal to snatch food from a random stranger at the concession kiosk. Controlling her impulses was becoming a problem that had nothing to do with reinventing herself. Stacie suspected it was related to the vertigo. To the car accident.

It had all started with Greg. She woke up one morning with the impulse to leave. So she did. The recurring nightmare of the accident had finally pushed her over the edge. Greg was at school, Stacie was still on a medical leave of absence. It was astonishing how quickly she packed her things. Of course, she’d thrown most of her clothes into trash bags. There weren’t a lot of personal mementos at the house she shared with Greg. Those were still in the mausoleum of a bedroom at her parents’ house. She figured leaving the engagement ring on the table was enough of a message. Apparently not.

Greg was in Seattle. He was angry. And he was looking for her.

When Jenny had explained how he’d shown up at her office, Stacie panicked. She left Maine thinking she would never see Greg again. After ten years with him, her entire adult life, she was ready to move on. She didn’t love him, but it was that lingering shadow in the back of her mind that propelled her to take action. It had to do with that weird dream, the snapshot of a memory she couldn’t fully remember.

Fortunately, Jenny hopped on a bus instead of walking home. She went all the way to Ballard, a northern part of the city, hit one of her favorite restaurants for dinner, then grabbed a taxi home, leaving Greg on a street corner far from SoDo and unaware of where they lived.

How did Greg know she was in Seattle? Stacie’s brother was the only one who knew. He’d promised not to tell anyone. He’d obviously dropped the news to their parents. That revelation was like a light bulb switching on. That was it. Stacie’s mother would have told Greg. Marion loved Greg. Probably more than she loved her own daughter.

It’s not that Stacie was hiding. Her parents were controlling, even more so than Greg. They would insist she return to Maine. That was something she wasn’t going to do and it be easier to counter their insistence if she’d established a life for herself in Seattle.

It was that dream, though, that vision of a hand flying through the air that filled Stacie with dread and an unreasonable fear. That’s why she had run from Owen. When he grabbed her wrist, the vision flashed and it was very, very clear. Of course, it could have been the news about Greg being in town. Because whenever she thought of Greg, she thought of that dream.

For weeks after the accident, it had been part of the nightmare and she brushed it off as a memory of the accident, probably Audrey’s hand. The memory had become clearer though, and the hand was not dainty with manicured nails like her friend Audrey’s. No, it was very, very masculine. With a high school ring that held a green stone. The hand was Greg’s. Stacie had no recollection of him hitting her, but the dread lingered, a heavy weight in her chest that made her wonder if there had been some sort of threat.

Her thoughts shifted back to the man who held her. There was so much more to the Cajun Sex God than his nickname. Her attraction to Owen had gone far beyond just sexual desire. He was intelligent and thoughtful. Between that revelation and the way she felt wrapped up in the security of his arms, she knew she was in trouble.

She loved the sound of his voice, the feel of his body, the fact that he was smart and interesting. And the way he looked at her. Oh Aphrodite, the way he looked at her. Like she was the only other person on Earth. That’s why she hadn’t been able to sleep. Yes, the shock of Greg being in Seattle and that vision of his hand made her restless, but it was the man next to her who kept her awake.

Love was an emotion Stacie wasn’t ready to entertain. Not this soon. Was it even possible to fall in love so quickly? No. Definitely not. It was just the sex. The incredible orgasms, something so foreign to her, had fooled her into thinking it was love. It most definitely was not.

Maybe it was best to leave. She wasn’t going to be able to sleep with the L word bouncing around in her head. And she wasn’t going to be able to get it out of her head with Owen’s breath on her neck, his warm body pressed against her, strong arms holding her so lovingly. Yep, see, there it was again. The L word. She had to leave.

Stacie rolled out of bed. Normally she appreciated the open window. Tonight, however, the cold air was a shock after Owen’s warm embrace. She turned on the small lamp next to the bed and searched for her clothes.

“Baby, what are you doing?”

“Going home,” Stacie said pointedly. She tried to recall where her clothes had ended up. She and Owen had been in a fever when they got to his condo, mostly because she had attacked him in the elevator. She realized their clothes were strewn everywhere between the front door and the bed. Again.

“Why?” Owen rolled onto his back, folding his hand behind his head. The comforter barely reached his waist, teasing her eyes with the sculpted v where his abs met his hips and annoyingly disappeared under the covers. He could be on the cover of GQ in that pose. Or Playgirl. Not that she’d ever seen Playgirl, but maybe she’d add that to her list of crazy things to do that she’d never done before.

Oh Moby Dick, she had to focus. Shaking her head, Stacie went back to locating clothes. She began a silent chant, reminding herself why she was here. Not just in Owen’s bedroom, but why she moved to Seattle.

This was only sex
. If they were planning to sleep, she could do that in her own bed.

This was just a fling
. She wasn’t falling in love with him.

This was just sex
. Spending the night with him would be her undoing.

This was just a fling
. She didn’t come to Seattle to get serious with a man.

This was just sex.

“Stacie, why are you leaving?” he asked again, interrupting the internal chant.

“I should go.”

“Does this have to do with that phone call?”

As she had sprinted down the streets of Seattle, paranoid that Greg might be following her, Owen ran at her side. He hadn’t tried to stop her, just kept pace, unwilling to leave her to her own devices. When they reached the condo building, she threw herself at him and for the next couple of hours was lost in the passion of his arms, his mouth, his body.

She hadn’t been willing to tell him about the call and fortunately he hadn’t asked. He now proved it was only a matter of time before it became a topic of conversation.

“Stay with me, Stacie.”

Wanting to stay wasn’t the problem. That demand in his voice, however, was a push stronger than the pull of her name rolling off his tongue.

Stacie thought for a moment. She didn’t want to lie to him. The incredible need to escape was propelled by all those feelings she didn’t want to acknowledge. She had to get away from Owen before her heart talked her mind into falling for this man.

“I really need to get some painting done,” she said, which was true. That was why she had come to Seattle, after all. Instead, she was spending more time with Owen than she was on her illustrations.

Owen pushed himself out of bed and wrapped his arms around her, his naked body igniting a fire on her skin that penetrated to her core.

“Baby, it’s midnight.”

“I slept all day. I’m fine. And I’m really feeling the urge to paint, so I need to go with it,” she said.

“Really?”

No. Painting was the last thing on her mind, especially as his warmth continued to burn her skin.

He placed his hands around her waist and pulled her into him. One hand remained at the small of her back, heat surging and emanating throughout her body. His other hand skimmed up her arm and lifted her chin so that her gaze met his. He almost kissed her, his lips hovering over hers.

“Stay with me,” he said again, his dark eyes penetrating and hypnotic, his lower hand pulling her body closer to his, pressing his erection against her belly.

Stacie could have said no. She could have left. Then he kissed her neck, right at her pulse, and slid his tongue to the swell of her breast and kissed her there. When his mouth reached her nipple, she wasn’t going anywhere.

Hours later, as dawn brightened the city, Stacie managed to find her clothes and actually put them on.

“Will you have dinner with me tonight?”

“Umm, I don’t know. Maybe.” Stacie knew that dinner would lead to another amazing night of sex, which would be fine if she could talk her heart into not falling in love. She was afraid that was a losing battle.

Owen kissed her. “Please,” he said, a crooked smile playing across his face.

“Owen,” she said, fighting the urge to surrender. “Maybe tomorrow.”

Owen sighed. “Is it something I said?” he asked, stepping back a little to give her space.

Stacie felt bad about hurting him. It was exactly what she didn’t want to do. She couldn’t win the battle with her feelings if she spent another night with him. Or even the day.

“It’s nothing you said,” she forced a smile to help mask the lie. It was everything he said. It was him. The feelings pulsing through her were unwelcome, especially now when she was trying to start fresh.

She kissed him on the cheek. “I just really need to get some painting done. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.” She’d take a day or two to cool off, refocus. And figure out how to deal with Greg being in Seattle.

Owen stopped her from walking away with a gentle grab of her hand. “Can I at least have your number?”

Stacie shook her head.

“Then promise me that we’ll see each other tomorrow.”

“Owen, you know I can’t make any promises.”

“Can’t or won’t.” He dropped her hand abruptly. She hated to see the frustration narrow his beautiful eyes and tighten those delicious lips, but she wasn’t willing to give up the control she had for the first time in her life.

“Maybe is the best I can do.”

The balcony outside Owen’s condo looked out the front of the building. That’s where Owen stood when Stacie finally managed to leave, making her departure more difficult. She couldn’t simply sneak across the hall. She had to leave the building, which was completely ridiculous.

She should just tell him where she lived. Maybe that’d make the casual sex that much easier. He’d let her leave in the middle of the night because she wouldn’t be going out into the city. She could come and go just for sex and the emotions that stirred when he held her just before they fell asleep wouldn’t be anything to worry about any longer.

Of course, if he knew where she lived, the control she held so firmly would start to slip. Just as it would if he had her phone number.

Now she could come and go at will. Just because she couldn’t muster the will didn’t mean it wasn’t possible. If Owen knew she was just across the hall, he could also come and go. Or seduce her on the phone with that sexy Cajun drawl. She wasn’t ready to give him that power. If she couldn’t walk away from him when she needed to, she wasn’t ever going to be able to. So she said good-bye and waved from the street after she exited the building.

Stacie walked north a couple of streets, then cut east one block before she doubled back on a parallel street and came in through the parking garage. She took the stairs to the fifth floor, checked the hall before stepping out of the stairwell, and made a sprint for her condo door.

~~~

As if lying awake wasn’t annoying enough, Owen wanted to despise the ache in his chest. He’d felt something like it before, when he’d been betrayed by the woman, women, he thought he loved. This time was different. It wasn’t the ache of betrayal, it was loneliness.

Damn him, but he missed Stacie. His bed was cold without her. There was no way he could fall asleep on the frigid sheets. He’d probably have to move to the couch, then drag his sorry ass to bed after he’d nodded off. All he was doing now was driving himself crazy thinking about Stacie.

Three nights of keeping his bed warm and his body on fire probably weren’t enough to indicate a commitment. Nonetheless, that’s what he wanted.

It wasn’t just the sex. Yeah, that part was amazing. His cock twitched to life just thinking about it. He missed everything about her. The softness of her voice. The excitement she showed when talking about her stories. He’d loved watching her at the game last night. It was a different side of her, assertive and spunky. She even cussed at the refs. The nacho chip incident was a little odd, and her very public seduction was intense, but he was sure she was just caught up in the excitement of the game. Adrenaline was a powerful drug.