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Fuck! How long had he been standing there? Maybe not long. Charles hadn’t even registered his existence. But then Charles had a way of making a person feel less than human and inferior without even trying.
“I think I should bail,” Owen said. “Give me a call when you get this sorted out.”
“No, don’t leave. I don’t want you to leave, I want him to leave.” Caitlyn threw out a hand in Charles’s direction.
“He’s cute,” Charles said with a dismissive chuckle. ?
??I wondered why there were vibrators, dildos, and condoms all over the house. I guess you’re more like me than you want to admit. Sex with the young and inexperienced is always more fun.”
Owen’s brows scrunched together. “Did he just call me inexperienced?”
Caitlyn laughed, some of the tension draining from her body. She’d almost forgotten that a man could make her feel something other than angry. A man didn’t have to subject her to constant condescension. A man—this man—could make her feel happy and good about herself. Good about being with him.
“So where did you pick him up?” Charles asked.
“A sex club,” Owen said. “I’d like to thank you for pissing her off so much that she was giving off men-suck vibes. Her attitude scared off all the other men in the room long enough for me to approach her.”
There was something embarrassing about Owen sharing details with Charles. Embarrassing, yet karmic. She wanted that affronted look on Charles’s face to be captured, enlarged, printed, and framed so she could remember it eternally.
“Well, when you’ve had your fill screwing this boy,” Charles said, “and are looking for something more substantial, I’d like to talk.”
Caitlyn scowled. “What makes you think what I have with Owen isn’t substantial?”
Charles lifted his brows, and she again hated that he was Pierce Bronson handsome. She wished he was as ugly as he made her feel—like a snot-and-wart-covered troll.
“Maybe by the way you’re walking. Sex isn’t everything, Caity. You need to have more in common to make a relationship work for longer than a few weeks.”
Charles brushed past her, bombarding her with his familiar scent. She still liked the way he smelled. The way he looked. The sound of his voice. But she couldn’t stomach the way he spoke to her like she was still that naïve freshman who cared more about his opinions of her than her self-respect.
“Says a man who never fucked his wife in an elevator or on her desk,” Owen called after him.
“Owen,” Caitlyn said, shaking her head. The dig was unnecessary and gave some substantiation to what Charles had said. Sex wasn’t everything, yet it was all she was prepared to share with Owen at the moment. Charles’s intrusion had somehow diminished her already superficial relationship with her sweet rock star. And when she heard the front door close as Charles saw himself out, it was exactly the figurative cold shower she needed to finally get her head on straight.
“Maybe you should go,” she said to Owen, crossing her arms over her chest and staring at the wall. She no longer felt like going to the beach and picnicking as they watched the sun set. The only reason they were going there was to have sex again, to check off another fantasy from her list. And she was no longer in the mood for fantasies.
“Do you want him back?” Owen asked, turning toward the doorway through which Charles had just walked.
“Of course not,” she said, “but maybe now you can see why I’m not ready to get serious with another man. Not even someone as good and kind as you. It’s too soon. I need to find more of me before I have anything to offer you but my body.”
“I can help you find yourself,” he said. “You’ve come out of your shell so much already since we’ve been together.”
She smiled sadly. “That’s just the part of me that complements you, Owen. It’s not all of me. Not much of me, really. Just like when I was with Charles. I showed him the parts of me that complemented him. So when I began to find myself—especially my ambitious side—we no longer worked. I don’t want to end up in the same place with you.”
Owen’s jaw was hard, his eyes a bit glassy. She could tell he was struggling with emotion, but she couldn’t give him much wiggle room.
“I thought this relationship was just about sex,” he said, the crack in his voice shredding her heart.
“It can be,” she said. “If that’s what you really want, then stay. I can handle that sort of relationship with you and discard you when I get bored. But if you want something more—and today has shown me that I do want more—you have to give me some time to sort myself out. And you have to go.”
He stared at her for a long moment. Part of her wanted him to stay and ruin any future they could have together by them fucking until they tired of each other, but the bigger part of her needed him to make the decision that being with her was worth more than the blistering hot sex they shared. They could have both the serious, fulfilled relationship and the amazing sex life if he was patient. Just a little patient. She didn’t expect him to wait around forever, just until the ink was dry on her divorce papers and she figured out what her next step was going to be. She’d really thought she’d be single for a while—a long while—not fall for her rebound guy.
“I had a wonderful time with you this weekend,” Owen said, tugging her into a gentle embrace.
He kissed her temple, and she blinked back tears. She was the one forcing him to give her time to find herself, so she didn’t have the right to cry. At least not in front of him.
“I hope you don’t keep me waiting for long. I don’t think I can stand it,” he said. “Goodbye for now.”
He kissed her just long enough to make her heart ache and then turned. She clung to the hem of her shirt so she didn’t reach for him as she watched him stride away. He’d chosen her—not her body—but her. So why did she feel so fucking miserable about it?
Chapter Fourteen
During the drive back to Austin, Owen had had a long time to second guess his decision to leave Caitlyn even temporarily. It was obvious that her old ex-husband—dude had to be pushing fifty—wanted her back. Owen trusted that Caitlyn just wanted a little time to sort through her feelings, but he didn’t trust that ol’ Charlie would stay away for long. Owen just had to make sure the ex- stayed away longer than he did.
Owen had just tossed his overnight bag into the mudroom when his doorbell rang. A small part of him wondered if Caitlyn had already decided she’d made a mistake and had followed him home, but he probably would have noticed her bright yellow Camaro in his rearview mirror, so he went to the door to investigate, not in the mood to listen to a salesman’s spiel or have his soul saved by Jesus or even endure a friendly visit from a neighbor. Peeking out the postcard-size window in his front door, he groaned aloud. Normally he’d have been happy to see his mom—and tell her about his latest heartache—but she had Lindsey with her. Since he’d last seen her yesterday morning, he’d almost forgotten Lindsey existed. Her presence on his doorstep was like a bucket of ice water thrown over his head.
He opened the door.
“I saw you drive by,” Mom said. “I thought you were going to be out of town until tomorrow.”
“Change of plans,” he said.
“Can we come in?”
He wanted to say no, especially when he noticed Lindsey was staring at him all doe-eyed as she clutched a plastic container to her chest, but he couldn’t tell his mother to get lost, so he stepped aside and ushered them in.
“We have a little problem,” Mom said.
And they were hoping he could fix it, so he said, “How can I help?” Why did he have to be such a nice guy? Or maybe he was a doormat.
“Lindsey had an asthma attack in her new place, so I called Ben and he came out and tested for mold.”
There was one reason to continue to be nice like his mom, Owen mused; nice sometimes earned benefits. Busy contractors like Ben didn’t usually drop everything on a weekend to test for mold.
“It’s everywhere. Apparently the apartment shower has been leaking behind the walls for months, and we’re going to have to rip it all out and redo it.”
“I’ll grab my tools,” Owen said.
“You don’t need to do that,” Mom said. “We’ve already hired Ben to do it.”
Which meant the job would be done right, but they’d have to wait months.
“I can at least rip out the old stuff. Get the mold out of there so she doesn’t have another attack.”
“She ca
n’t stay there without a functioning bathroom, Owen. She’s pregnant.” Mom squeezed Lindsey’s arm. “And pregnant women definitely need a functioning bathroom.”
He refused to look at Lindsey, knowing that if he did, he’d give in to her plight. “I can give you some more money. I’m sure you can help her find a place nearby. There’s an apartment building over on—”
“Owen,” Mom interrupted, reaching out to pat his hand. Now she was giving him the doe eyes. “There’s already a place nearby that she can stay for free.”
Owen’s stomach dropped. He knew what she was going to ask of him.
“It’s preferable that you two are married before you live together, but she can keep an eye on your house while you’re gone,
