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MAGGIE
Itry to take in as many details as I can as I go through each room in Owen’s house. He doesn’t try to rush or stop me. He and Alfie trot behind me, letting me do what I want. I would make a really terrible spy, but who in their right mind would think I’m a spy? Because I’m not. I shouldn't be here at all, but I can’t help myself. I never can. I can try and fight the things that pull at me, but I always lose. Sometimes I wonder why I even waste my time fighting.
Everything is clean and perfectly placed. It gives me a calm feeling. It doesn’t go unnoticed by me that a room is, however, missing. The scan we did over Owen’s showed there should be something between this living room wall and kitchen. At a glance you’d miss it with the hallway and think there might be a pantry in the kitchen, but there isn’t. Something is off, and it’s driving me nuts. My eyes linger on a bookshelf in his living room. I run my fingers along it.
“Do you enjoy reading?”
“When I have the time.”
“And when is that?” Did Owen ever tell me what he did for a living? Is he a farmer? I pull out one of the books. It’s about agriculture. I slide it back between two other books that have the same color binding. I pull a few others out and replace them the way I want them as well.
“This place can be a lot to take care of alone.”
“Hmm.” I agree as I keep going. “There.” I step back from the bookcase. All the books are put back so the bindings match from size to color. For some reason, this brings me great pleasure.
“Feel better?” I spin around to see Owen leaning up against the far wall, merely watching me.
“Sorry, I ah—” How long have I been reorganizing his books? “That was rude.” I shift on my feet. “Right?” I know I wouldn't care for the idea of people moving things around in my home.
“It looks better. I shove books in there at random.”
I nod, relaxing. The whole point of inspecting the bookcase wasn’t to organize it but to see if there was possibly something behind it. But once I got started and realized it was a dead end, I couldn’t help but put them back in some sort of order.
To be honest, I was hoping it was one of those super cool bookcases where you pull the book back and a magic door pops open. I’ve always wanted one of those. Sounds badass. I bet Ocean could build me one. That girl can do anything with her hands.
“Are you hungry?” he asks.
“Hmm?”
“Food. Do you want something to eat? I suppose hot chocolate can only hold you over for so long.”
“You knew what I ordered?”
“You’re a hard girl to miss, Roxanne.” My stomach turns. A flare of irritation fills me. I don’t care for him calling me a name that’s not mine. I try to push the feeling away the best that I can. I mean I’m being ridiculous, right? It shouldn’t matter what name he uses.
“What do you mean?” I step closer to him. “I enjoy blending in. What was it about me that stood out to you?”
“You’re beautiful. Your baggy clothes hide nothing.”
I open and then close my mouth. I was not expecting that. Is he really attracted to me?
“Prettier than the girl who made your coffee?” I can’t help but to ask. I mean, a girl needs to know these things.
“Without question,” he says without missing a beat. He also takes a step closer to me, causing me to get butterflies in my stomach.
“Are you a farmer?” What the heck? Why did I choose this moment to ask that? Obviously, my nerves are taking over and I’m just blurting out random things.
“At times.” He moves even closer.
“Are you going to kiss me? You keep looking at my mouth.”
“Would you stop me?”
“I should.”
“That’s not a no.” His hands cup my cheeks. His thumbs go under my jaw to tilt my head back. I don’t stop him. I let my head fall back and watch as his mouth descends onto mine. My eyes fall closed. His mouth is soft. I’m not sure what I was expecting. His hands are rough, but his kiss isn’t.
When his tongue glides across the seam of my lips, I part them for him. He takes that opportunity to dip inside my mouth. I grip the front of his shirt. My fingers take hold of him as I kiss him back. My moan is met with a deep groan from him.
