Page 46 of Sparks Still Fly

Something’s up. Owen basically ran away from me for some mystery meeting earlier, and he hasn’t done his usual inspection of the gardens around the guesthouse. I don’t know when he’ll be back, so I head to the stable to see the horses.

When I drive up, there are a few more cars than last time I came by, letting me know the stable hands are all here today. I figure I’ll just say a quick hello and see my favorite mare, Scout, before I get out of everyone’s way.

“Hi, Miss Maeve,” Paige, a sweet young woman, greets me.

“Just Maeve, Paige.” I smile at her as her cheeks turn pink. Arthur told me she’s been dying to ask me for an autograph but doesn’t want to bother me. I’ve got a massive package coming for her as a surprise.

“Scout hasn’t had any carrots yet today. I waited to see if you’d come before she got any treats.” Paige smiles ruefully, then continues on her way to the tack room.

“Thank you. That was thoughtful.” I stop at Scout’s door, smiling when she immediately nuzzles up to me.

“She really took to you.” Arthur’s booming voice comes from behind me.

“She’s a lovely girl. Loves everyone,” I say as I run a hand along Scout’s neck. “Thanks for letting me just show up here anytime, Arthur.”

He lets out a sigh, and I look up at him. He rubs the back of his neck, and it feels like he has something to say. I’ve gotten that feeling every time I’ve seen Arthur. “You really love horses, right?” I nod. “And mountains? Wine? Wide open spaces?” I repeat the movement. “And you can’t live too far from LA because of your job, so Ojai is kind of a perfect place, isn’t it?” I feel my eyebrows bunch together on my face, confused by what he’s saying. “And Owen, being your husband, knows all this, yeah?”

“Arthur, what are you getting at?” Because there’s no way he’s saying what I think he’s saying.

He takes a deep breath. “It’s not my place to say anything outright, but Owen knows next to nothing about horses. He looked for a house with a stable or enough room for one for months. He paid out of his ass to buy this place, negotiated for weeks, and made sure I had everything I needed to keep these horses in the lap of luxury.” He scratches at the stubble on his face. “All I’m saying is, I’m not letting you show up here. You can come anytime you want. And not just because we like having you here. All right?” His eyebrows jump up on his forehead, and I nod dumbly again.

With that small bomb he just dropped, he tips his hat and turns on his heels.

Owen bought this place for me.

I feed Scout a few carrots as I brush her, but my mind is busy mulling over the fact that Owen did this. That he didn’t say anything. He keeps so much to himself, and I think now I understand that it’s because he doesn’t want to burden people. It took him years to tell me about his hostage situation. It took years for him to tell his sister. He waited until he felt he’d fully healed before mending their relationship and now ours. Is that what he’s doing here, too? Waiting for the right time?

After dropping the brush for the third time in an hour, I put it away and drive back to the guesthouse.

I can tell that Owen is in the gym because it faces the guesthouse. He doesn’t have any music on, but I heard the drop of a weight a few minutes ago.

I put some workout clothes on and pace around the entryway for a minute, working up the courage to walk in there.

I practically stomp into the gym, intent on confronting him for nearly kissing me and buying me a house, but whatever words I had ready quickly dissolve on my tongue at the sight of him. He’s bent at the waist, gripping a barbell as he does deadlifts in front of the mirror. His back ripples with effort as he lifts and lowers the heavy weights, grunting with each repetition. From my vantage point, his well-defined thigh muscles are easy to see, flexing beneath his shorts.

The cords of muscle stand out in stark definition against his tanned skin. But it’s what I see when my eyes travel up his torso that has my mouth going completely dry. The tattoos I’ve peeked at beneath his T-shirts are now a lot more visible with the cut-off shirt he’s wearing. The ink travels up his right shoulder and onto his chest, though I can’t see them from here.

“You should take a picture. I hear they last longer.” He sets the weights down, making me jump at the sound.

“Huh? What? Hi.” I clear my throat and snap back into myself.

What the fuck was that shit?

“I wanted to work you. Work in you. Work in with you. Bollocks! What the hell have I just said?” I wipe my forehead and look for any version of myself that isn’t this babbling fool, but she’s nowhere to be found.

The asshole in front of me chuckles. “You said a lot of things there, blondie.”

“Oh, whatever. You could hardly introduce me as your wife to your friend. I haven’t seen a real-life sweaty man in front of me in quite some time, so excuse me if I temporarily lost my wits.” I pull at my ponytail, hoping the tightness will bring blood-flow back to my brain, away from my vagina.

He smirks, but then his face goes back to the neutral, emotionless expression he seems to greet most people with. I hate that it’s aimed at me now. And the sight is so at odds with the easy grin on his face when he told me to take a picture that I immediately opt not to confront him. I want easy-going Owen. I want banter and almost-kisses that hopefully turn into real kisses.

“You want to use the gym, it’s all yours. I’m done anyway.” He wipes down the area he was just using and cocks his head as he walks toward the door. Without thinking, I grab his forearm as he walks past me.

“Wait.” I gasp at our contact, remembering that touching Owen James is a bad, bad idea. I release his arm and look up.

Why does he need to wait again? Oh yeah. We’re supposed to be able to be around one another...

“I thought we needed to be able to be around one another. We haven’t been doing that. And you haven’t given me an update on the baby in a while. And I’m feeling a little out of sorts here, living in your guesthouse, riding your horses, eating your food...” I pivot so my back rests on the door frame, and Owen does the same. “Just… talk to me. Please.”

---