Page 261 of The Hopelessly Bromantic Duet

Owen lifts his right hand, rubs his temple.

“Are you getting a headache?” I ask, since he gets tension headaches now and then. Usually when he’s been staring at a screen too long, or when driving, something he rarely does.

“A little, but I’ll be fine. I have ibuprofen.”

“Let’s get you something to swallow it down with,” I say, with too much cheer. Like a beverage is a cause for celebration.

Perhaps it is if it distracts me.

I glance down at the dashboard. The tank is half full. “Besides, I forgot to fill up. Let’s find a gas station. We can even grab some snacks, and that drink for you.”

“All I want right now is a can of LaCroix,” Owen quips, returning to his flirty, fun voice.

Where I should be too.

6

RIVER

This is Northern California, so even the gas station stores are organic and healthy.

In this case, we’ve got a full-on gourmet shop.

I wander down an aisle filled with baked chips, dried edamame, and roasted pumpkin seeds. “Gas station food, this is not,” I say as I pick up a bag of popcorn that touts itself asfarm-to-table. “I didn’t know that was an option for popcorn in a freaking bag.”

“I’m sure the farmers picked the corn this morning and hand-delivered it right here,” Owen says, then turns the corner. “Whoa.”

“Did you find a bag of dried seaweed to munch on in the car?”

His lips crook into a grin. “If I did, I’d be rushing to the counter now. But seriously. Check this out. They have gourmet hot cocoa from Lulu’s Chocolate.” He lifts a tin, waggles it.

“Your favorite chocolate.”

Owen clutches the tin. “Awww, you remember. You’re the best.”

“You only go on and on about Lulu’s Chocolate all the time. You force me to go to the shop anytime we’re in the Ferry Building.”

“I force you? Really? Does it feel forced when you’re moaning in pleasure from eating chocolate? It didn’t seem forced when you devoured an entire salted almond chocolate bar a few weeks ago when we went there after the Dragons destroyed the Storm Chasers in that blowout game,” Owen says, picking up a Lulu’s chocolate bar, and waving it seductively in front of my face, like he’s trying to hypnotize me.

It’s kind of working.

“Are you trying to tempt me?”

Oh hello, double meaning. Nice to see you again.

A spark in his blue eyes is the answer. “Maybe I am. I’ll get both,” he says, tin and bar in hand, then rounds the corner into the next aisle. I follow, walking behind him, my eyes traveling down his frame, cataloguing the shape of his strong back. Mmm, I do love a good back on a man. Love the divots and muscles, broad shoulders and tight waist. Love the feel of sliding my palm along smooth skin, right into thick hair.

Histhick hair.

And tugging the strands.

Pulling.

Holding him in place under me.

I stifle a groan as I slip dangerously deeper into temptation.

I could shake off this lust, but it feels too good. So instead my eyes travel a little lower, lingering on the curve of his ass. Has Owen always had a bubble butt, or have I just started noticing it? My hands itch to touch him. To explore his arms, his abs, his legs.

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