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“Um, yeah,” she reluctantly agreed. “If that’s my only option, I’m good with it.”
“Jesus, Tilly,” he said. “You would really rather sleep anywhere except my bed, wouldn’t you?” he asked.
“It’s not that, Owen,” she insisted. “I just don’t want to give you the wrong idea about why I’m staying with you.”
“No, I got that,” he said. “You’re staying with me so that I can keep you safe and make sure that your concussion doesn’t get worse. I picked up on that as soon as you said the words, ‘Air mattress,’” he said. “I was just hoping that you didn’t still find me so repulsive.” Repulsive was the last thing that she felt about Owen. Hot, bothered, and a whole lot turned on—all of that, but repulsed, not at all.
“You shouldn’t put words in my mouth, Owen,” she breathed. “I don’t find you repulsive. I just don’t think that it’s a good idea for us to sleep in the same bed. If this is going to be a problem, I can find other accommodations.” He pulled into what she assumed was his driveway and then, into the garage, shutting the door behind his truck.
“Come on, I’ll show you to the air mattress,” he said. He got out of the truck, and she wondered if she should follow him or demand that he take her some place else. He opened her door and helped her out, not giving her much of an option. Owen grabbed the bag that the hospital had given her with the clothes she was wearing from the night before. The nurses were kind enough to give her some scrubs to wear home and she was grateful that she didn’t have to wear her blood-soaked outfit from the bar.
“This is the main floor. It’s pretty standard—kitchen, family room, dining room, and stairs at the end of the hallway that goes up to the bedrooms.” He emphasized the word, “Bedrooms” being plural, and she shot him a look. He was wearing his sexy smirk, and she couldn’t help but smile back at him.
“You have more than one bedroom?” she asked, “and, you’ve let me worry about saying the wrong thing this whole time?”
“Yeah, but in my defense, my male ego was injured, and I needed a win. Plus, watching you squirm was pretty damn cute.”
“Gee—thanks,” she sassed.
“Come on, I’ll show you to your bedroom. It is next door to mine, so I hope that’s okay,” he said. “I’ll come in every hour to wake you up tonight and if you’re good, then tomorrow, I won’t have to do that anymore,” Owen said, repeating the instructions that the nurse had given them before being discharged.
“Thank you, Owen,” she said. “I appreciate you doing that for me, and if I’m being honest, I am glad that I don’t have to sleep on an air mattress—or an old ratty mattress from your garage.”
“Yeah, I wasn’t really playing fair when I told you about that,” he said. “I’d say that I was sorry, but you did make it pretty easy.”
“How about I take a nap and you’ll be able to make fun of me all you want to later?” she asked.
“Deal,” he agreed. “You need to rest up so that you can get better, Tilly.”
“Right, then I can figure out what Nate is up to and what was on that hard drive,” Tilly said. That was something that she wanted more than anything. That hard drive had nearly cost Tilly her life and it had cost her a job that she liked—not that she’d ever go back to Nate now.
“We can figure out what he’s up to together,” Owen insisted.
“I have a little bit of a confession,” she admitted. While she was being questioned by the cops, one of the officers told her that even with her testimony, they might not be able to lock Nate away because he had some iron clad alibi. Her worst nightmare was possibly coming true—she had told the cops her story about what Evan had done to her, and he was probably going to get away with it. She wasn’t sure how to tell Owen that her nightmare might never be over. Here he had agreed to help keep her safe until Nate was put away, and now, that might never happen.
He led her into his spare room, and she sat on the edge of the bed, preparing to tell him the whole ugly truth. “You know that I spoke to the cops yesterday, right?”
“I do,” he said. Owen put her bag on the dresser and sat down next to her. “They questioned me while they were talking to you.”
“Oh, I didn’t know that,” she admitted. “What did they ask you?”
“Just normal stuff—you know, how I know you and what I remembered at the bar,” Owen said.
“What did you tell them?” she asked.
“I just answered their questions, why?” Owen asked.
“Well, I was wondering if you told the cops that you’re my boyfriend like you told the nurses,” she said. His cheeks tinted the cutest shade of pink and she couldn’t help her giggle.
“You know about that?” he asked.
“I do,” she admitted, “and I understand why you did it. They wouldn’t have let you stay with me if you hadn’t told them that. I actually appreciate you telling the nurses that you’re my boyfriend. I don’t think that I could have rested knowing that Nate could have gotten to me while I was in the hospital.”
“Yeah, that’s why I did it, but I have to admit—I kind of liked telling people that you are my girlfriend,” he admitted.
“Really?” she squeaked. She was surprised to hear him admit something like that to her. Every time the nurses called him her boyfriend, she felt a bit giddy.
“Yeah, and I’m glad that you felt safe with me there. Now, you need to get some more rest,” he said. Owen stood from her bed and pulled down the blankets. “Wait,” she whispered. “I forgot to tell you what I needed to say.”
