Page 121 of One Wild Wish

Brandon and I had talked about moving in together, but I’d held out. The permanence of it was a big deal, and I wanted to be sure. Then he seemed to hesitate, too. In hindsight, I think I’d done it out of insecurity. I’d sensed him slipping away. Either way, I showed up at his place with my terminated lease. I’d stewed over it for weeks and decided Brandon was it for me. That moving in together would bring us closer. That we’d get married and have kids and ride off into the sunset.

On that particular rainy day, I’d also decided to use his spare key and surprise him wearing nothing but a white bustier, thong, and garters. I’d dropped my trench coat at the front door and walked toward his bedroom, where I’d planned to strike a sexy pose for when he came home.

My first clue my world was about to cave in was the grunting coming from behind his door. His “Yeah, baby, yeah” was horrifyingly familiar, but it was the feminine “God, yes, Brandon” that turned my knees to slush.

Shaking, I nudged his door open…and froze. I watched the two of them fucking , unable to look away. My terminated lease shook in my fisted hand, my lingerie pure humiliation. He was on top, each thrust a nail hammered in my heart. My throat constricted. My eyes burned. Then I screamed. Nothing specific, just an ear-splitting shriek.

Mortified, I’d grabbed my coat and tore out of the place. The second I hit the street, tears streaked my cheeks thicker than the rain plastering my hair. My stomach curled in on itself. I convulsed in shivery spasms, my skimpy attire barely covered by my trench coat. I wanted to disappear. Dissolve into the puddles collecting at my feet.

Now I ached for Sally, could feel the sting of disgrace that had seeped into my skin when in her position, and yet here I was, at the center of someone else’s emotional hurricane.

If my parents weren’t in the picture, I’d march into Dean’s office and toss his wife’s gift at his nuts. Cease being a pawn in this despicable game. He’d had me engrave Sally’s bracelet with the word Forever . All to keep his public life intact. (Insert devil emoji here.) He placated the mistress with lies. She’d knowingly fallen for a married man. Now Sally knew the extent of his deception, unless she chose to accept his lies.

She might realize I’d helped him.

“Why don’t I drop this off for you?” Cindy removed the gift from my clenched hand. The white box was now dented. “I’ll give it to him when she leaves, tell him you couldn’t wait.”

I managed a few unsteady breaths. “I’d appreciate it.”

Cindy really was a top-notch assistant.

* * *

Two hours into volunteering the next day, I was still off my game. The Mistress Encounter had undermined my concentration, and I kept expecting Anton to show up.

Then there was the Owen Issue. Upon seeing him this morning, he’d offered me nothing but a polite wave. He didn’t make a move to stop and chat, when all I wanted was to confide in him. Talk through my financial options and ways I could build my client list, while shedding the diabolical assholes currently crowding my roster. I could have called Gwen or Ainsley, but Owen used to work in finance. He had experience.

It was also more than that.

He listened when I spoke, his replies always thoughtful and soothing. I could also use a hug from his gravity-defying arms. Friends could hug, after all. Friends could offer support. If I wanted to salvage things, I’d best start by apologizing for my forwardness at dinner.

Lunch was in an hour, but I couldn’t wait. As soon as he came out of the house he’d been working in, I bee-lined for him. “How goes the dry walling?”

He wiped his hands on his jeans, leaving behind white finger streaks. “Good.”

God, one word? He didn’t ask me what I’d been slaving over or joke with me about the new volunteer with the misspelled tattoo. (Knawledge is Power.) I’d really messed things up. Not as badly as that tattoo, but Owen’s distance worsened my already rising anxiety.

A muscle in his jaw ticked. He shifted his attention to the clouds blowing across the blue sky. Like he was frustrated. Like he couldn’t look at me. He dragged his same hand through his thick hair, leaving a white smudge on his forehead. It was sweet, seeing a blemish on his handsome face. Being the Good Samaritan I was, I pressed to my tiptoes and swiped my thumb across the white streak, bringing us closer than intended. My breasts nearly grazed his wide chest, my senses filling with his intoxicating smell, an inhale I shouldn’t have stolen.

Bad Ainsley.

Before I could snatch my arm away, Owen clasped my wrist. “What are you doing?”

He almost sounded angry, and I bit my lip, ashamed I’d made things weird again. There was no sweeping my behavior under the carpet. Brutal honesty was the only thing that would fix this mess. It would embarrass the crap out of me, but I’d made my bed.

Time to get cozy in it.

He still had my wrist in his hand. When I moved, he startled, releasing me.

I tucked my hands into my front pockets. “I’m sorry about the other night. It’s just…” I looked down, unable to meet his eyes. Here comes the crazy. “I’ve never had a gay friend before, and I’m kind of attracted to you, like way more than I was with Emmett. I don’t even know what that says about me. Anyway, it was tough for me, spending time together. But I like you, like really enjoy hanging out. So I thought, because I’m clearly an idiot, talking about sex and guys, and making those non-taboo subjects, was smart. That I’d get over my feelings for you. Turns out I made things worse.”

My heart pounded an unsteady rhythm as I studied Owen’s work boots, big and rugged like him. Unmoving, like him. Unable to handle his silence, I finally looked up. The fire in his eyes was unexpected. And odd. It was the kind of heat I’d expect from a lover, a person about to tear my clothes from my body. God. How did he expect me to stay friends with him when he looked at me like that?

“You think I’m gay?” was all he said.

I blinked a thousand and one times, and my heart raced faster. Was that disbelief in his tone? “Are you telling me you’re not ?”

And oh, that fire in his eyes sparked, his pupils blowing wide with intent. “I am not gay.”