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His face says it all.
Emmy just put him square in his place.
That was better than a fist, any day.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Emmy
Did I just do that?
I’m standing outside the fire station holding a small box of oatmeal butterscotch cookies and the photo I nabbed from Levi, nerves crackling with electricity and out of breath from what just happened.
People don’t realize that classic romance novels are all kinds of swoony, but they pack some pretty clever insults in there as well.
Thank you, Edward Albee and Agatha Christie!
I’m still feeling like I’m having an out-of-body experience when the door opens and Owen steps out.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
“Are you serious?” He steps right in front of me. “That. . .that was. . .”
He shakes his head and laughs. For real.
“That was amazing.”
“It was, wasn’t it?” I grin. “I can’t believe I did that!” I’m still clutching the box in my hands.
“The guys in there aren’t going to let him forget that for months,” he chuckles. “That was brilliant.”
It’s nice to see Owen smile. I’m starting to come off of the high of that confrontation, but I’m still nervous about what brought me here in the first place.
“You look better.” He’s still smiling.
I made Owen smile.
“Better than half-dead?” I laugh. “Thank you.”
“That was rough, huh?”
“That’s what I get for going out with a controlling mama’s boy. My own personal sign to never do that again.”
His face shifts. He looks. . .relieved?
“Loafer guy?”
“Oh my gosh, yes,” I laugh. “No socks.”
There’s a lull.
“He’s controlling?” Owen straightens again.
I hold up a hand. “Listen, I know I’m like a little sister to you, but I think I just proved in there that I really can take care of myself.”
“I don’t think of you as—” He looks away, then smiles softly. “Yeah, I’d say you can handle yourself.”
“Good.” I smile. “I brought you these to thank you for taking care of me yesterday.” I hold out the box.
