The Sound of Consequence (Puget Sound ~ Alive With Love Book 1) (13 page)

Oh, hell, he had to stop thinking like that if he was going to keep his own adrenaline rush from encouraging the beast in his shorts. It was impossible not to get hard thinking about her, especially knowing everything they had done in this bed.

Owen launched himself off the mattress. At this rate, he was going to be jerking off before the night was over. That wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying as the passion he’d shared with Stacie. He went to the fridge and grabbed a cold beer, took a long gulp and willed the cold to travel to every part of his body. That seemed to calm the sex fiend below his waist.

So maybe it was safe to think about Stacie again. As if he had any control over that. He was desperate to know more about her. He wanted to know what her other passions were. Did she go to college? What was her major? She had said she was aspiring to be a children’s author. So what had she been doing until she started working on that? He wanted to know about her family and old boyfriends. Well, not too much about old boyfriends. Mostly, he just wanted her next to him.

He finished the beer and grabbed another, then went into the spare bedroom where his computer mostly collected dust these days. Between unpacking, work, and being with Stacie, he could hardly recall the last time he’d logged on. Maybe someone back home was online right now. He spied the digital clock on the bookshelf across the room. It was 10:00 in Seattle. That meant it was midnight in Lafayette. The chances of anyone being online were slim. Maybe his sister Morgan, the night owl, unless she had an early shift at the hospital.

Owen checked his e-mail and Facebook. Morgan had sent him a message, asked how things were going. He was a little disappointed she wasn’t online. Damn, he missed his little sister. He’d like to tell her about Stacie. Or maybe it was too soon for that.

Morgan was going to be more skeptical than Bryan about a new woman in his life. She had given him the condoms, knowing full well he wasn’t a fuck ’em and leave ’em kind of guy. Never had been and didn’t look like he ever would be. Morgan on the other hand, she was a commitment-phobe. Owen was able to protect her from their father’s physical abuse when they were kids, but there was nothing he could do to heal the emotional scars. Morgan’s goal in life was to bring babies into the world, as a nurse only, and not turn into their mother, a woman who had allowed her drunken husband to beat her repeatedly.

Owen could appreciate Morgan’s perspective. He was desperate not to turn into the abusive bastard their father had been.

The good news from Morgan was that she was coming to Seattle. She’d been accepted into a midwifery program at the University of Washington and had a job interview with a family physician. He hadn’t seen his sister since coming to Seattle just over a year ago and missed her like crazy.

A few of his army buddies were on Facebook, but he wasn’t much in the mood for idle chat, so he simply caught up on the latest updates and logged off. He went out to the couch and sat down with
All Quiet on the Western Front
. In another life he might have been a history teacher, but being a soldier had been his calling. It was in the army that he’d learned he had a knack for computer security. That job paid better than teaching, so he’d stuck with it. He still held a passion for history, though. Particularly war. Maybe that was the Landry pumping through his veins, but at least he focused that passion on history rather than abusing the people he was supposed to love.

Owen’s recent reads included
1776
and
Gods and Generals
. Next on his list was
Band of Brothers
. Owen had seen the mini-series and loved it. He understood the camaraderie, the brotherhood formed by the soldiers. He’d experienced the same thing when he’d been deployed.

Fortunately he hadn’t been on the front lines like the band of brothers in World War II. Before he sat down with that read, he wanted to finish a World War I book. After grabbing another beer from the fridge, Owen settled back on the couch. He wasn’t sure that World War I would take his mind off Stacie, but staring at a book you couldn’t read sure beat lying alone in a cold bed.

~~~

Stacie sat at the small dining table that separated the kitchen from the dining room and stirred the paint with the brush. Ten hours in front of a fresh canvas and she only had a few strokes to show her efforts. She refused to give up. If she sat there long enough, she was bound to get something onto this canvas.

Jenny crashed through the door, still in her work clothes and carrying a laptop case. She kicked off her sneakers and headed straight to the couch where she opened the laptop and turned it on. While she waited for the computer to boot up, she passed by Stacie and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

“Deadline?” Stacie asked.

“Yeah, we’ve gotta have this shit square by Friday. My team is working like crazy, but this deadline is even crazier. I’m not really sure why my boss agreed to such an aggressive timeline. This is one of our biggest authors, so we’ve gotta meet the media schedule.”

As a marketing manager for a large publisher, Jenny often worked long hours. She was vying for a promotion to marketing director. When a major deadline loomed, she worked even longer hours both at the office and at home. Tonight was obviously a work from home night, so Stacie didn’t try to chat with her. Not that she had anything to talk about anyway.

Stacie did wonder if Greg had found her again, but if she brought it up, then she’d have to explain her own actions when she’d left Maine, and Stacie hoped to avoid that for as long as possible.

Jenny stopped behind Stacie on her way back to the couch and eyed the masterpiece that Stacie had yet to paint. “Nice penis,” Jenny said.

“What?” Stacie said, snapping out of her paint-stirring funk.

“How long you been working at that?”

“I’m having a little trouble focusing,” Stacie admitted.

“I’d say your focus is right on. You’re just engaging in the wrong activity.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Stace, look at it. It’s. A. Penis.” Jenny air-traced the strokes that Stacie had painted. “You have a blank canvas with a penis on it. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what you’re thinking about.”

Stacie narrowed her eyes. Oh, for the love of John Proctor, it did look like a penis.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” Jenny asked.

“I live here,” Stacie droned.

“I thought you’d be with the Cajun Sex God.” Jenny finally made it to her computer and started pounding away on the keyboard.

Stacie groaned. That was the only response she could verbalize. If groaning was considered verbal. Aural, maybe. Verbal, not so much.

After a couple of minutes, Jenny finally stopped typing and looked at Stacie. “What’s going on, girlfriend? You and Owen have a fight or something?”

“No,” Stacie said on a long sigh.

“So what gives? Khaki pants make contact?”

Stacie shook her head.

“Spill!” Jenny commanded, going back to her typing.

Stacie didn’t want to wallow out loud. She’d been missing Owen ever since she left him. Longing for the man was not something she wanted to do, and certainly not this much. She wasn’t even thinking about the sex, despite what the canvas revealed.

“I’m waiting,” Jenny chimed from the couch.

Stacie sighed and gave in. “I ran. He’s smart and thoughtful and fun and sexy…” her voice trailed off.

“And amazing in bed,” Jenny finished for her.

“And amazing in bed,” Stacie agreed. “So I ran. I’m getting too attached. I’m too interested in him. I like more than just the sex.”

“So?”

“So. It’s a fling. It’s supposed to be just sex. I don’t want a boyfriend!”

“Is this because Greg’s in town?” Jenny looked up from her computer. Suddenly Stacie felt like she was six again, taking singing lessons while her mother stood by like a guard in a death camp. “Tell me why Greg thinks you’re still together.”

“I didn’t think this would come back to bite me.”

“Deets, Stace.”

“I packed up and left while he was at work. I didn’t leave a note. Didn’t call him. Didn’t say a word, actually. I thought the empty closet and ring on the table would provide a clear message.”

Jenny choked back a laugh. “That is so…Wow! That’s so not like you! You’re the talker. Gotta talk it all out. Make sure everyone understands. Leave no stone unturned. You really left without saying a word?”

“Yeah.”

“Is that what you did to Owen? No good-bye kiss? Nice knowin’ ya? Thanks for the orgasms?”

“No. I made up some lame excuse about needing to paint. Good Gatsby, I’m such a…a bitch. The last thing I want to do is hurt him.”

Jenny gasped. “Did you just say…bitch?”

“Don’t mock me or I’ll turn the word on you.”

Now Jenny was laughing. “Using it once will probably result in therapy.”

“I’m not that bad.”

Stacie didn’t even have to look at Jenny to know she was wearing that look.

“Whatever. I am though.”

“Oh, for the love of Shakespeare,” Jenny mocked and rolled her eyes for effect, “the last thing you want to do is get comfortable again.”

“Ok, now you’re the bitch.” Stacie didn’t hesitate to swear that time. Though it probably wasn’t a fair assessment. Jenny was just speaking the truth that Stacie didn’t want to admit.

“No, I’m right and you know it. So what are you going to do about Greg?”

“Um, ignore him and hope he goes away?”

Jenny was going to get a headache if she kept rolling her eyes. “And what about Owen?”

“I don’t know what the hell I’m doing!”

Jenny got up and disappeared into her bedroom. Less than a minute later, she came out with a black dress and four inch pumps.

“You’re having sex, that’s what the hell you’re doing. This dress, it has sex written all over it. I’m sure you’ve got something sexy you can wear under it. Or wear nothing. Doesn’t matter to me. Get it on and get out. There’s no point moping around here when you’ve got a God of Sex across the hall. One of us oughta be gettin’ some and it ain’t me!” Jenny went back to her typing.

“It’s not the sex I have the problem with,” Stacie confessed.

“So what if you fall in love with him! He sounds like a dream. Now put the dress on and get out!” When Stacie just stood there, holding the dress and the shoes, Jenny pointed with one hand toward the door, her other hand still typing. “Go!”

Stacie went into her bedroom and changed out of the comfy shorts and tank, replacing them with a lacy black thong and matching bra, something she’d picked up while shopping for the Sounders jersey. After slipping on the dress, Stacie looked in the mirror, eyes widening like the waxing moon. The straight-line dress with inch-wide straps over the shoulders fell to mid-thigh and hugged every curve. She had to admit that she looked pretty good in it. Maybe borderline slutty. Definitely sexy.

The shoes with the four-inch heels slid on easily. Stacie wasn’t sure she could manage the increased elevation, but they were surprisingly comfortable. Twisting her hair into a loose knot, she remembered how Owen had let it down at the soccer game before he snapped pictures, so she let it drop over one shoulder and tossed the clip across the vanity.

She dabbed on lip gloss and brushed on a little mascara. Body spray was an indulgence, at least according to her former life. The spritz felt like a spring ocean breeze, refreshing and cool on a body that was warming with anticipation and need.

Jenny gave a quick wave without looking up when Stacie said good-bye. “Don’t come home tonight,” Jenny said, “I don’t need the distraction.”

Stacie checked the peephole before stepping out of the apartment and across the hall. She stood in front of Owen’s door for several minutes contemplating whether to knock. This was crazy. The plan was to play this day by day. Earlier, fear propelled her out of Owen’s arms. Now she really wanted to see the man who made her heart race.

Fear had held her in its shackles for years, but on a whim, or likely something more that she still didn’t understand, she’d released herself from restraints and finally started to live. Fear was something Stacie had tucked away and it was time to tuck it away again, along with all the other lingering feelings she had tried to ignore. Tucking away feelings was one of her strengths after all. Her unhappiness had been tucked away for years. Surely she could manage to do the same with the feelings that had triggered her fear.

Since it was after ten, Stacie decided to knock lightly, just in case Owen was sleeping. She silently sang her
just sex
chant.  Wow, how slutty was that? As if she needed ammunition in that department. She’d slept with him without even knowing his name, for crying out loud.

You aren’t a slut, Stacie. You are just being uncharacteristically promiscuous.
Owen didn’t seem to mind that all week, why should tonight be any different?

Tonight was different though. He wasn’t answering his door. Maybe he wasn’t even home. Maybe the man who occupied her fantasies found some other slut to keep him company. Maybe her departure this morning was like a get out of jail free card. Not that she owned him. Owen could sleep with whomever he wanted. In fact, that was probably a good idea. Then she wouldn’t get attached.