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I laugh, but she’s right. He hasn’t been around in a while, but it’s nice to see him back.

57

Alice

Owen gets out of the car as I climb out of the passenger side.

“What are you doing?” I ask, pushing my bag onto my shoulder and hugging my arms around my body, making sure I’m real, not dreaming, and that I am getting out of Owen’s car as his girlfriend.

“I can’t kiss you goodbye the way I want to in the car.”

He walks around the bonnet while I’m struggling not to swoon at his sweetness. He reaches for my hand, wrapping his other arm around me before kissing me slowly, gently, and methodically, like he knows just how to make me want to jump back in the car and demand he take me right there in the passenger seat.

I reluctantly pull away. “You’re making me not want to go to work at all, and it’s hard enough working on a Sunday.” I groan.

“I hate working Sundays, but I’m actually cross I’m not working today, as I would’ve got to spend the day looking at you.”

He pushes the hair from my face, and my insides squeal because no one has ever pushed my hair from my face. No one has ever held me the way Owen is holding me now, and no one has ever looked at me the way he is now—like he never wants to let go. It all feels so bizarre, so giddily surreal, that hot, grumpy Owen is smiling at me, holding me, and looking at me like he wants to devour me.

“You wouldn’t have got much work done,” I say dreamily, wondering if I actually am asleep and none of this is real at all.

“It would be worth it.” He lowers his head to mine and places his lips against my forehead.

I left my car at Owen’s place after he insisted he drive me to my apartment so I could put my make-up on. He admitted he wanted to see my apartment and how messy it was. Apparently, “It isn’t as bad” as he thought, but I got the impression that it is that bad, but he’s turning a blind eye to it.

When I told him he didn’t have to drive me to work, that I could drive myself because that’s what I’ve been doing for the last God knows how many years, he said that if he dropped me off, he’d need to also pick me up, which would give him a reason to come and see me.

I told him he didn’t need a reason to come and see me, to which he smiled and kissed me so deeply, I thought I was never even going to make it to work.

And now Kitchen City looms before me.

Even though it’s Sunday—and I hate working on Sundays—I couldn’t be happier being held by the man who I spent the whole night beside.

I can’t remember the last time I shared a bed with someone properly. Actually sleeping together—amongst other things—instead of one of us leaving in the middle of the night or first thing in the morning.

And waking up next to Owen had been even better.

Especially when his hands started roaming over my body, waking up every inch of skin with its own personal show of affection, which is something I could very easily get used to.

Pulling back slightly, Owen says, “I’ll be here at four to pick you up.”

“And then what?”

I can’t hold the grin in. I probably look like some overly enthusiastic Disney Store employee, but I feel giddy, light-headed, fizzing with excitement at the prospect of seeing Owen after work.

“We can do whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want? Wow, that’s a brave statement to make, Mr Shea.”

“I’m feeling brave,” he tells me.

“I must bring out the warrior in you.”

“You certainly bring something out.”

He smiles, and I realise I’m not asleep but actually in heaven—until a bird squawks overhead, reminding me I’m standing in the Kitchen City car park. Though some people might argue that is heaven if you really love kitchens. Less so when you work here.

“I’d better go in before Jamal calls me from the maternity ward and tells me I’m late.”