I push my fingers through the waves of my bronzed hair and let out a pent-up sigh.
“I had to rewrite the same press release three times today because apparently our marketing director likes to torture me. If I have to hear the words ‘enhance the narrative’ one more time, I might actually start downing tequila straight from the bottle.”
“Yikes,” Owen winces. “See, that’s why I stick to talking and let smart people like you do the writing.”
Owen’s crooked grin makes me chuckle, which pisses me off more than I’d like to admit. Because that’s the thing about Owen Brooks—he’s annoyingly good at making me laugh, even when I don’t want to.
I nudge my glass away with a fingertip, then bump my shoulder lightly against his. Even though it’s barely a touch, I feel it down to my toes.
“What about you?” I swallow thickly. “The golden boy of sales didn’t have anything better to do tonight?”
Instead of coming back with a witty response like he usually would, Owen runs a hand over his stubbled jaw and inhales a deep breath. His shoulders go rigid as if the weight of the world just landed on them. My brows furrow with confusion.
“Fuck…” he trails off before dropping his head in his hands. “I’m in a bit of a dilemma,” he murmurs against his palms.
“A dilemma?” I repeat, narrowing my eyes while turning to face him fully.
He blows out a heavy breath before lifting his head to meet my gaze. Per usual, I try my damndest to act completely unaffected by his searing green eyes.
“Yeah,” he nods. “Tyler, one of my old teammates from college, is getting married in Turks and Caicos next month. Fancy destination wedding at a resort called Costa Cay. I RSVP’dmonths ago for me and my plus one. And apparently it’s a small, intimate wedding, so I can’t bail. He would for sure know if I didn’t show. Besides, I’ve already booked flights and reserved a room. It’s just a mess.”
My stomach dips before he even says the next part because I knowexactlywhere this is going.
“By the way you’re looking at me, you can probably guess who my plus one was.”
Yup.
“Your ex?”
“Bingo,” he scoffs. “And now I’m the loser who’s planning to show up solo to a destination wedding, surrounded by my college friends who all knew her and are going to ask why we broke up.”
A tiny part of me is thrilled she won’t be sipping fruity cocktails with him in paradise. And honestly, I don’t even feel bad about it. I met her once at a company party, and she spent the entire night glaring at me like I was two seconds away from stripping down and climbing into Owen’s lap.
I’m pretty sure I said maybe two words to him the entire night. If she only knew how much we talk and banter at work… The thought brings me an embarrassing amount of satisfaction.
“Yeah, I’m not gonna lie… that sucks.”
“Tell me about it,” he mutters. He pauses before continuing, almost looking nervous. “I, uh… I was actually hoping I’d find you here tonight.”
That throws me for a loop because why the hell would Owen be looking forme?
“What?” I arch a brow. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” he shrugs. “This is our spot, isn't it?” he asks, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
This is our spot, isn't it?Even though he doesn't mean anything by them, his words make my stomach flip.
Now that I think about it, maybe it is. We end up at this little bar after work more than either of us cares to admit. And maybe, deep down, we both subconsciously hope the other will be here. I know that’s just wishful thinking, though. Owen doesn’t see me like that.
My pulse quickens as I blurt out my next question.
“But why exactly were you hoping to find me here?”
Owen leans back, one hand resting casually on the bar, the other still cradling his whiskey. He clears his throat, like he’s preparing himself for my response to whatever he’s about to say.
What the hell is going on?
And then, my world shifts on its axis.
