Falling for Owen (3 page)

Dylan had the luxury of growing up with a father who loved him and did right by him. Owen and Brody’s uncle wasn’t a drunk. No, he lived a good life with his wife and son and worked hard. They were well off, while Owen and Brody scraped by all their lives with their alcoholic father.

Where Dylan grew up the high school all star, he and Brody had been the outcast troublemakers. Well, things changed.

“We’re not cocky punks anymore. Aside from growing up, we took our lumps and learned our lessons. It’s been a long time since I trespassed on Ms. Firths’s property to fish in her pond.” One of his many smaller transgressions. “Now, tell me why Dale attacked Claire for no good reason.”

“He thinks you’re having an affair with his wife,” Claire explained, drawing his attention once again.

He bent next to her and gave her his full attention. “What did he say to you?”

“He wanted to know where my husband is. I told him my ex doesn’t live here, and he said he saw him drive by in his truck. I knew at that point he didn’t mean my ex, but you. I tried to tell him he had the wrong person, but he swore he’d get back at you and he’d hurt me to do it.”

She drifted off for a moment, so he brushed his fingers up and down her arm to draw her attention.

“My head hurts,” she whispered, her eyes going soft and distant again.

“She hit her head on the pavement after he hit her with the car,” Dylan explained. “Knocked her out for at least a couple of minutes.”

“Honey, you need to go to the hospital. You probably have a concussion.”

“We’re taking her for stitches and to get her head examined in a few minutes,” the paramedics confirmed.

“I’ll come with you.”

“Why?” Claire asked.

“I’ll drive you home. You’re in no condition to be left on your own.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“You’ve got it all the same. In some roundabout way, this is partially my fault. The least I can do is make sure you’re tended to at the hospital and you’re safe when you return.”

Claire considered the shambles of her dining room and patio. The glass scattered on the floor and the giant hole in the sliding glass door. Her mind spun out with all she needed to do to put things right: Call the insurance company and a glass repair service. Clean the floor and board up the window. There went her kitchen budget. The trip to the hospital would probably wipe it out.

“No new refrigerator, I guess.”

“Dinosaurs aren’t as old as that thing you’ve got in your kitchen,” Dylan teased.

Owen’s laugh and smile were sure to pull any woman in the vicinity under his enigmatic spell.

She couldn’t help herself; she laughed with them. If it held a note of hysteria, oh well. She hurt everywhere, her muscles ached, and she felt like crying, but the tears didn’t come.

“The man who did this really hates you,” she said.

“I can handle him. He’s not a nice guy. He beat and mistreated his wife for years. She finally had enough and pressed charges. I convinced her to leave him for good.”

The frustration in his voice spoke of a lot more to the story. “You don’t think she’ll stay away from him?”

“I know he won’t stay away from her. We’ll find him and make sure he pays for hurting you.”

“You think he’ll come back.”

“If he thinks you’re tied to me, he might.”

She appreciated his honesty and ran her shaking hand through her hair and brought it back down to her lap. He took it into his warm, rough hands and held it. Their eyes met again and she fell into the blue depths and his earnest gaze.

“You’ll be okay. I promise.”

Unable to answer, she gave him a nod. She wanted to believe him, but she’d learned over the past few years not to rely on anyone but herself for everything. She’d worked hard to rebuild her life and find a direction that made her feel self-assured and accomplished. She thought she’d put fear behind her and embraced this new life and living alone.

She’d find her center again, once the initial terror wore off and she had her home back to rights. She’d take on a project in the house, maybe finish the master bath. She’d already bought all the supplies. She imagined how it would look once complete and sighed. God, how she’d like to sink into a warm bath, close her eyes, and forget this day ever happened.

“Time to go,” the paramedic said.

Owen stood and backed away, giving her space, but she wanted to call him back. The reassuring feeling she’d had when he held her hand disappeared under the rush of pain and fear she couldn’t escape.

Her head spun and she reached up and put her hand to her aching head and the lemon-size knot at the back. The paramedics had cleaned off the blood. Right guy gave her an ice pack and she leaned back on it, closing her eyes.

“I’ll be right behind you, Claire. I’ll catch up to you once the doctor sees you,” Owen promised.

“You’re very kind, Mr. McBride, but it’s not necessary. I’m sure I can find my own way home.”

“My name is Owen. Use it,” he pressed gently. “Get used to me hanging around. Until they find and lock up Dale, I’m not taking any chances he comes back and hurts you again. Besides, someone needs to help you clean up this place.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“You don’t have to do it alone. Get her in the ambulance,” he ordered the paramedics, not giving her a chance to argue further. Funny, she didn’t want to argue with him. She liked the idea of him hanging around. Who wouldn’t want a gorgeous man to help her out and protect her from the bad guy? Besides, she just liked looking at him. Tall, blond, eyes the color of a summer sky that went soft when his gaze fell on her. Every flex of his muscles revealed beneath the shirt that fit tight across his chest and over his well-defined arms. All that strength muted when he touched her softly. Her skin still tingled where he’d brushed his hand up and down her arm. She wondered if he’d make the rest of her feel that good if he kept touching her. Everywhere.

Maybe she really did need her head examined.

Chapter Five

H
OURS LATER, TIRED
and hurting, Claire sat on the bed behind the curtain in the ER. She’d been poked and prodded, had her head and cognitive and motor skills evaluated and her feet stitched in three different places. Luckily, none of the cuts on the bottom of her feet were too bad. She’d be able to walk, once the swelling went down. The sides of her feet hadn’t fared as well. Some of those cuts went deep.

She had a new, not-so-cute pair of flip-flops. Still, they looked better than her bloodstained shirt. The blue fabric had faded long ago. Tight across her breasts, the fabric dropped to mid-thigh. She plucked at the unraveling thread at the hem. Time to throw it out.

With her head bent, she stared at the pair of dark brown cowboy boots that appeared on the floor just past her feet. She looked up and nearly laughed when Owen made a point to look her right in the eye, instead of dipping his gaze to the deep V in her shirt and her nearly completely exposed breasts, thanks to the paramedic cutting it open to check her bruised and scraped shoulder. She appreciated his good manners, and the way he seemed to ignore her state of undress for her benefit. Mostly. He shifted from one foot to the other, signaling his discomfort. The intensity of his stare made her feel like she held his complete attention. She liked it. It filled her with a warmth she’d never felt and wanted to keep, but she’d fallen for a handsome man once before and found nothing but heartache and anger when his need for every female’s attention overshadowed every promise he’d made to her. Never again. Still, it didn’t hurt to look. And dream.

“Ready to go? The doctor signed you out.”

She could get used to that deep, husky voice. “Sure.”

He didn’t make a move to leave, so she stared at him and tried to lighten the mood and his intense study of her. “I don’t think pink’s your color.”

“Huh?”

“Is that my robe you’re holding on to?”

He’d walked in with it over his shoulder. He held it in his hand and brushed his fingers over the soft material. She bought it for the same reason. She’d never felt anything so soft against her skin. A tactile person, she loved to buy soft, luxurious-feeling things because sometimes all you had to hug was a blanket.

Judging by the muscles stretching the cotton shirt Owen wore, there wasn’t much soft about him. She liked that, too. Sometimes wrapping yourself in strength gave another kind of comfort. One she hadn’t allowed herself in a long time. Tonight, after the ordeal she’d been through, she wouldn’t mind having those strong arms wrapped around her and pressing her cheek to his hard chest.

Maybe the doctor could give her a pill to counteract the stupidity part of her brain. This man had children with a beautiful woman she didn’t know. Their relationship seemed more like friends, and she’d put him and the kids’ mother in the divorced or never married and separated category. Either way, he wasn’t for her.

Owen pulled the robe off his shoulder and draped it over her back. She stuffed her right arm in with ease, but her left shoulder hurt like hell where she landed and skidded on the driveway. The nurse had placed an ice pack over it and wrapped her shoulder with an elastic bandage to hold it in place. Cold, her nipples stood out against the T-shirt’s thin fabric. The nurse left ten minutes ago to get her a blanket, but must have gotten sidetracked with a more important task.

“Let me help you. That shoulder doesn’t look so good.”

“It’s not so bad.”

“Now that it’s numb, right?”

She giggled. “Right.”

“Nice shoes.”

She stared down at her bandaged feet in the flip-flops. “Yeah. Want to go dancing?” she teased.

“Any time you want.” His voice didn’t hold a teasing tone, but she let it go, remembering him with his girls and the woman he may or may not be together with now, but still had a commitment to because of those beautiful little ones. She thought fleetingly again about what she’d wanted out of her marriage and how all her dreams crashed and burned along with the vows her ex made to her.

The nurse walked in with a wheelchair, saving her from having to comment. Owen took her arm to help her off the bed. That same zing of heat and awareness rippled through her at his touch. His smoldering blue gaze met hers, but she settled into the chair, avoiding the look and what it told her. He may be interested, but she refused to be the other woman in his life.

Owen took over for the nurse and wheeled Claire out the double doors of the ER and straight to his truck parked at the curb. He set the brake and took her hand to help her up. He liked touching her. Something strange came over him that he liked so much he felt compelled to do it again and again.

Her condition made climbing into the truck difficult, so he put his hands on her tiny waist and lifted her up and into the seat. Her hands grabbed hold of his shoulders and for a second he stared at her with his hands on her and her hands on him, a wonderful electricity circling through him to her and back. Connected. He’d never felt this way about any other woman he’d touched.

Again, she broke free of the spell first and scooted further onto the seat. He let her go. She’d been through a lot tonight. Tired, she let out a yawn and settled back in the seat. He took both her feet, knocking off the flip-flops, and placed both her feet on the dashboard. He brushed his fingers over her pretty pink painted nails, smiling because she had really cute toes.

“All set?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine.”

He grabbed the seat belt and wrapped it around her, leaning in close. She didn’t move. Held her breath. He hid a smile, knowing he affected her as much as she stirred him.

Yeah, he’d dance to any tune she played. An unsettling thought for a man who’d spent his life enjoying women, never really taking the time to get to know them. Not really. He had a million questions he wanted to ask Claire. Well after three in the morning, he’d have to wait. A perfect excuse to see her again. Not that he needed a reason.

He’d seen her a dozen times over the last year and half, but he’d never introduced himself, even though he’d wanted to. Of course, most of the times he’d had his nieces with him, so hitting on a woman with them present—not cool.

“You know, we’ve never actually met. I’m Owen McBride.” He held out his hand to her.

She took it and shook. “Claire Walsh. You come into my shop with your girls.”

“They love your place. Whenever I steal them from their mother, they ask to go to your café and bookstore. I think they like making a rough guy like me play tea party.”

“You always seem to enjoy yourself. You’re really good with them.”

“I love those girls to death. They have such a fresh and unspoiled view of the world. They remind me not to be so serious. I have so much fun with them.”

Claire’s soft smile turned into another big yawn. “I’d really like to go home.”

“Okay.”

“Are we leaving soon?” she asked when he didn’t move to get in the car and drive them home.

“As soon as you give me back my hand.”

This time, he smiled when she looked down at their joined hands she held in her lap. She released him and squirmed in her seat. Yeah, he wasn’t the only one who felt the heat between them.