Page 69 of Serpent King's Bride

“Owen,” I began, setting the glass back down with a soft clink, “there’s something I need to tell you.”

He raised an eyebrow, his gaze steady. “I’m listening.”

Taking a deep breath, I locked eyes with him. “I asked Abby to marry me,” I confessed, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “And I know I’m doing this in the wrong order…but I’d like your blessing.”

Owen’s expression didn’t change at first, and for a second, I thought he hadn’t heard me. Then, without a word, he lifted his glass and downed the whiskey in one swift gulp. A chuckle escaped him as he shook his head, putting the glass down with a clink.

“Abby’s always done exactly what she wants,” he said with a wry grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You don’t need my blessing, Nathan.”

My throat tightened. “But I want it,” I insisted, the words carrying more weight than I anticipated. “I want to do this right, Owen. For her.”

He studied me for a moment longer, his laughter fading into something more serious, more discerning. It was clear he saw through the veil of civility we both wore. There was an unspoken understanding between us—two men who recognized the dangers of our respective lives.

“Abby doesn’t wait for anyone’s endorsement,” Owen remarked, his tone softer now, almost resigned. “But if it means anything to you, you have my blessing.”

His gaze held mine, and in it, I saw recognition—a silent acknowledgment of the darker side of my world that Abby had become entangled in. I swallowed hard, the whiskey leaving a trail of fire down my throat, then I put the glass back on the table with a heavy thud, trying to steady my nerves.

There was no turning back now.

“I’m guessing Abby told you everything,” I said, my voice low.

Owen’s eyes darted around the restaurant, his cop instincts never at rest. Satisfied that our conversation remained private amidst the clatter of dishes and low hum of other patrons, he leaned in closer. “I understand that sometimes work can get dirty at the flower shop,” he replied with a knowing glance.

I paused for a moment, letting the weight of Owen’s unspoken understanding settle between us. The sounds of the Copper Spoon faded into a distant hum as I gathered my thoughts. “The real reason I came here alone,” I began, my voice steady despite the storm brewing in my chest, “is because I want to ensure that Abby doesn’t get her hands dirty—with the plants, of course.”

Owen’s eyes never left mine, but I saw a flicker of something—concern, perhaps?—cross his features before he nodded slowly.

“Nathan, I know my daughter,” he said, his voice a quiet rumble. “Abby’s strong-willed; if she sets her mind to something, there’s not much that can stop her.”

I knew he was right. Abby had a fire in her that matched my own, and it was one of the many reasons I loved her. But it also scared the hell out of me. If she decided to wade too deeply into the murky waters of my world, it could swallow her whole.

And that was something I couldn’t allow.

“Strong-willed is one way to put it,” I agreed with a faint smile, trying to keep the mood from turning too grave. “But I’m asking you to take extreme measures if she tries to get in too deep.”

Owen studied me for a long moment, then gave another slow nod, the father in him speaking louder than the officer. “I think she’s already in too deep if she’s marrying you.”

I leaned in, my voice dropping to a whisper. “I’m serious, Owen. I mean it when I say extreme measures. I don’t want to scare you, but if Abby got caught up in the crossfire because of me—“

“Stop,” Owen cut me off, his hand raised like a barrier between us. “What exactly are you asking?”

“Arrest her,” I muttered. “Keep her from me…by whatever means necessary.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “There’s no fuckin’ way…”

“You might have to, for her sake. For her safety,” I insisted, the weight of my own words anchoring me to the spot.

Owen’s face hardened, the lines of his weathered skin deepening as he grappled with the thought. Before he could respond, his eyes shifted past me momentarily, a cop’s habit of always scanning the surroundings.

“Is something going on, Nathan? This isn’t about the recent fires, is it?” His voice was sharp now, the detective side overtaking the concerned father.

I shook my head, the motion firm. “No, nothing like that. I’ve got it under control.” It wasn’t a complete lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. “This is just about making sure Abby stays safe.”

Owen held my gaze, searching for sincerity or deception—I couldn’t tell which. After a moment, his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, though his eyes remained guarded.

“Alright,” he said at last, his voice low. “I’ll do whatever it takes to protect Abby, but you’ve got me nervous now.” His eyes, like chips of flint, stared into mine. “What aren’t you telling me?”

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, feeling the weight of his scrutiny. “I think,” I started, then hesitated, choosing my words carefully. “I think Abby would be better off without me.”

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