Page 130 of One Wild Wish

We hadn’t discussed what we were, or if we were exclusive. We hadn’t even been on a proper date. (Dinner with Gay-Not-Gay Owen didn’t count.) Yet I felt like we were an item. Weeks of talking and laughing had set the stage for a romance that peaked yesterday. If he went out with another woman, it would hurt.

Gwen returned with our drinks. I downed half of mine, then blurted the whole story. Worried I’d impede my wish, I hadn’t told them yet about my volunteering, but needing advice trumped that silly superstition. I finally admitted my Habitat for Humanity work. Meeting Owen. Then Gay Owen. Then Not-Gay Owen. I couldn’t unpack the Anton Bickley situation yet and omitted that particular soap opera, but I bled out the rest.

Rachel spun her wineglass. “You met Owen at the Habitat build?”

“Yeah.”

“Is he tall and fit, with a deep voice and sandy hair? Looks like he belongs at a rodeo?”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “Have you been creeping me?”

“Oh my God. Owen!” She smacked her hands together. “This is insane . He’s friends with Jimmy. The one I mentioned volunteered at the build.”

I blinked, dumbfounded. “My Owen is the Habitat guy, and he’s friends with Jimmy?” I’d been reduced to repeating the obvious.

“From when they were teens. They played soccer together. They reconnected when Owen moved back to town. This means we get to double date!”

Gwen shook her head. “That’s actually pretty nuts.”

Absolutely crazy. It also meant Rachel might have intel. “So”—I sat on my hands before I picked my nails to death—“have you guys hung out?”

“A bit, but usually short chats after a soccer match. We did have lunch once.”

“And?”

“And what?”

I rolled my eyes at the ceiling. After six years of gym workouts, drunken nights, and gossip sessions, I shouldn’t have to spell this out. “I need to know all the things . Did he have a serious girlfriend in D.C.? An illegitimate child? Does he run a drug ring or work as a gigolo at night?”

Gwen snickered. “Shouldn’t you know all this? You just said you guys have done nothing but talk for weeks. Why didn’t you ask about his history?”

“Because he was gay .” I needed to apply for new friends.

My soon to be ex-bestie tossed her head back with another wild laugh, pretty much all she’d done since I told them I’d flirted with another man after asking Owen to describe his ideal BJ. Once she’d gained control of her faculties, Gwen wrenched one of my hands from under my thigh and laced our fingers together. “I’m sorry, love. I will make fun of you forever for it, but I get that this is hard for you. I wasn’t sure you’d let yourself fall for someone again after Brandon.”

She kissed my knuckles, and we turned our attention to Rachel, who shrugged. “I wish I had more dirt. He did have a girlfriend or something in D.C. and is single now, but that’s all I know. He seems like a good guy. Jimmy wouldn’t be friends with an asshole.”

There was truth in that, but it didn’t lessen my turmoil. “I hate Brandon for ruining me like this. I shouldn’t be this nervous to date again.”

The girls traded sad, puppy-dog faces. To me, Rachel said, “Have you told Owen?”

I extricated my hand from Gwen’s to sip my drink, curling in on myself the way I had with Owen yesterday when the words were at the tip of my tongue. “No. I almost did, but I chickened out.”

There was nothing easy about admitting you were dumb enough to be duped.

“Well, I think you should,” Gwen said. “Putting your trust in him is a big deal for you. If you’re not honest, you guys don’t stand a chance.” Gwen never minced words.

Rachel’s doe eyes softened. “From what I know of Owen, and what you’ve said, he seems like the type of guy who’ll put your mind at ease. You deserve this, Ainsley. There are lots of jerks out there, but there are good guys, too.”

They were right. I knew they were. I had to lay my dirty laundry out for Owen so I didn’t wind up worse off than after Brandon’s betrayal. Although watching my friends fill my ex’s door lock with expanding foam while he was inside had made me giddy. Navy Seals had nothing on us.

As I’d done a hundred and seven times today, I slipped my phone from my purse to check my messages. My belly whirled at the sight of Owen’s name. He’d texted me an hour ago.

My hotel room is lonely.

It was like he’d sensed what I needed to hear. With the time difference, he was probably asleep by now, but I couldn’t resist replying. Don’t they have gay porn?

A second later: I’ve already watched it all.