Page 5 of Forgot to Tell You Something

I tap my finger against my chin. “Hmm, maybe.”

“What if I show you a kick-ass card trick? One you won’t be able to figure out.”

“You carry around a deck of cards?”

“Just for this occasion,” Owen volleys back.

“Fine. If—andonlyif—it’s a really good trick, I’ll let you share my balcony.”

“How magnanimous, Tally.”

I’ve seen plenty of card tricks in my years, some better than most. But his trick puts all the others to shame. I’m not certain if it’s the dexterity with which Owen shuffles the cards or his smooth, gravelly voice serving as a distraction, but he selects my card. Every. Single. Time.

“That is the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.” I’m fully aware that my grin matches the Cheshire Cat’s, but the trick blew my mind.

Actually, Owen is blowing my mind.

“Told you. So, now we’re partners.” He extends his hand to seal the deal.

My eyes narrow in confusion. “Partners?”

“Co-owners of the balcony, and this uncomfortable as hell couch.”

“Hey, leave my couch alone. Don’t you enjoy a spring in your ass?”

“Not at all. Are you going to leave me hanging?” he inquires, motioning to his still outstretched hand.

I throw back my head, laughing. “Fair is fair. I never renege on a deal.”

A sexy smirk breaks across Owen’s mouth as his tongue glides along his lower lip, and my body clenches. Again.

Calm your tits, hormones. It wasn’t an overt gesture.

“You’re really beautiful when you smile, Tally.”

His compliment catches me off-guard. “Thanks.”

“You look surprised that I said that.”

“I’m the cool, fun, funky chick. It’s nice to be beautiful for a change.”

He reaches up, tugging at my pink locks. “I have a feeling you’re always beautiful. You’re one of those women that wakes up looking like you did when you went to sleep.”

I snort my sip of beer. “Sorry to disappoint, but I’m like everyone else in the morning—a hot mess.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” he replies, breaking his gaze from mine to focus on the people below.

I take a second to process his words. Owen didnotjust intimate a sleepover. Did he? Well, wouldn’t that be a hundred shades of deliciousness?

I release a slow exhale, trying in vain to calm my nerves. “I might have to go rescue my friend.”

Owen follows my hand as I point out Stefani, still huddled at the bar. “The blonde?”

Yes, with the knockout body and perfect profile.

“She’s a looker, isn’t she?”

But Owen doesn’t commiserate with my statement. Hell, he doesn’t even acknowledge it. “She doesn’t appear in desperate need of a rescue.”

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