Page 121 of Forgot to Tell You Something

Perhaps I’m behaving like a child as I storm back to my seat to gather my things. But I’ve tried to be an adult where Owen is concerned, and I’m done taking the high road. The only road I want is one leading out of here.

* * *

I’m still fuming, but at least now I’m doing it on my turf. I swing the barstool back and forth, wishing to God that vodka was healthy for my Nugget.

Dan knows that something is up, but he sees the set of my jaw and opts not to push the issue.

Smart man.

“I’m so glad to be out of there.” I jump at Owen’s voice in my ear. The man definitely minored in ninjutsu. The tux is long gone, replaced by a body-hugging shirt and jeans. I hate how good he looks.

I need a vaccine against this man. Something to make me immune.

“Hey Darlin,” Owen leans in to kiss me, but I turn my head before he gets the chance. “What’s wrong?”

“I think you know.”

“Congressman Daniels? The guy is a prick, Tally. Don’t listen to a word he says.”

I swivel on my stool, facing him, glare at the ready. “I didn’t. What I listened to was the silence from your end, negating his statements.”

“I didn’t think it mattered.”

“It did. It mattered to me.”

Silence. I sip my drink, my gaze intent on the water ring. I don’t want to argue or fight. It’s not worth the energy at this point.

His hands clench the edge of the bar, and I see from the corner of my eye he has focused his gaze downward. “I fucked up.”

I raise my brows but don’t offer any retort. At this point, I’m not sure what Owen considers a fuck up.

“I should have corrected him. I didn’t think. I beg you to attend this stupid dinner, and then subject you to that crap from some pompous twit who wouldn’t know love if it smacked him in the face.” Finally, that stormy gaze meets mine. “I’m sorry, Tally.”

I can’t lie; I’m shocked by his earnest apology. “You think you can stop hurting my feelings? I know I’m a tough cookie, but even I have limits, Owen.”

“You’re the last person I want to hurt.”

“Yet somehow, you keep managing it.” I release a resigned huff as I take in his distraught expression. “I don’t think you get to share my balcony tonight. Your punishment is being relegated to the heathens down here.”

I know that sarcasm isn’t the right answer, but I’m tired. My heart and head are beyond weary. I just want to kick back and listen to a band rage about anarchy.

“I’ll do anything to make it right.”

“Well, that’s a tempting offer.”

He grasps my hand. “I’ll drop to one knee right now.”

My heart leaps at his statement, but I remain calm and collected on the outside. “What are you planning on doing while you’re down there?” It’s a joke. I know it, and I think he knows it, too.

“Ask me to show you.”

Bastard is baiting me. I tap my chin before shaking my head. “While it piques my curiosity as to the legitimacy of your statement, I’ll let you slide this time. This time,” I reiterate.

He grabs my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm. “What if I don’t want you to let me slide?”

“Behave, or I won’t let you sit in my balcony. I’m not kidding, mister.” I pop off the stool, heading for the upstairs stairwell. I push open the heavy door and settle onto the worn velvet couch.Home sweet home.

“Are you serious?”

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