Page 69 of Forgot to Tell You Something

I burrow my head deeper against his chest, willing back the tears. God, I love him too. I just can’t say the words. When I said them the last time, everything went to crap. Call me superstitious, but I’m being careful. “Owen—”

“I read the employee handbook. Cover to cover.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “That’s likely a first for anyone, even those working in HR. Cure for insomnia?”

“Yes, but that’s beside the point. The insomnia is your fault.”

“Mine?”

“Yes. Anyway, the handbook doesn’t say anything about employees dating.”

Holy shit, the man really did read the book. “It doesn’t?”

“You know it doesn’t, Tally.”

“What are you saying?”

“The same thing I’ve been saying since we met. I want to be with you—publicly with you—like we were those first two weeks. It’s hard to defend my rage when I’m your co-worker, and a guy hits on you. But if they know we’re dating, they’ll keep their mouths shut and their hands to themselves.”

I consider his statement, not because I’m worried about the ogling philanderers at Memorial, but because I’m finding it exceedingly tricky to not stake my public claim on Owen. “You really think that would stop them?”

“If it doesn’t, a punch in the mouth will,” Owen mutters. “Although I have another idea.”

My ears perk up. Hopefully, Owen hasn’t decided that an open relationship is the best option. I’ll vomit all over his shoes. “What’s your brilliant idea, Dr. Stevens?”

His eyes are silver with intensity. “We make you Mrs. Stevens.”

My jaw slackens as my gaze flies up to meet his.He did not intimate what I think he intimated...did he?“What are you talking about?”

Owen grins, and I know I’d be happy staring at that smile for the rest of my days. “We get you an enormous diamond. You can pick out the ring, or I’ll design it for you. I’ve considered a few styles.”

I open my mouth to retort, but I’ve got nothing.

He sends me a knowing wink. “No, I want to design it.”

Words. I need words. I’m fluent in English, so why can’t I figure out anything to say? All I can do is gape up at him, certain he’ll burst out laughing, claiming it’s a joke.

The question is if he is kidding, would I be relieved or disappointed? I’m leaning toward disappointment, making this utterly untrodden ground.

“I’ll make sure that the ring represents you.”

“All this to ensure Dr. Sleaze stays in his own lane?”

Owen shakes his head, dipping down to steal a kiss. “Hey, it is a solution,” he replies, chuckling at my glare. “Darlin, I’m going to marry you because I love you.”

I bite back a smile. Damn him for getting me so excited. “Do I have a say in any of this?”

“Sure. Emerald cut or round?”

That Owen knows the cuts of stones stops me in my tracks. Could he mean what he’s saying?

“You didn’t think I was serious, did you?”

“Damn mind reader,” I grumble, tucking my head back against him.

We pass the next few minutes like this, existing in the warmth of one another. My hands stay firmly planted against his lower back, maintaining a relatively PG posture. Not Owen. His hands are totally misbehaving. Within moments, they’re traveling along the curve of my ass, causing his erection—and my desire—to grow by the second.

At this rate, we’ll be naked and screwing on the table. Again. Time to shift back to our regularly scheduled work personas. “You wanted to see me?”

---