Page 41 of Sweet and Salty

I press my lips into a firm line. “I’m not going to let that happen.”

She lays her head against my chest, reaching up to pet Gregory. “I know,” she says. “I just don’t want anyone getting hurt in the process.”

I hate that I can’t guarantee that for her. I can only hold her, protect her, and hope to hell we catch a break and I can settle this, once and for all.

“Looks like you have a cat now,” I say, trying to shift the topic and distract her. “How about we go shopping? He’ll need a bed and some food dishes at your place, and toys.”

Her smile is everything in this moment, hopeful and grateful, and I’m just fucking glad I put it there.

“That sounds perfect,” Zoe says, moving out of the break room, grabbing her bag on the way toward the front entrance. “And you’ll stay with us too, right?”

“Of course,” I assure her. “I’m not going anywhere.”

CHAPTER 16

Zoe

Ismile and wave at a few familiar faces as I head into the event room of the hotel. It’s been a long day of panels and lectures, but my conference has gone off without a hitch.

Some of the country's most brilliant minds and innovative experts in therapy are in attendance, and it’s been a productive day. I feel like I’ve learned more in the last eight hours than I have all year, and it’s been the perfect distraction after what happened with Gregory last week.

While I’m grateful the cat is happily living with me—Luna taking care of him while Owen and I are here in Charleston—I still can’t shake the foreboding feeling clinging to my skin. Spencer had crossed a line beyond harassment to downright threatening, and even though I reported it to Jim at the police station, I understood the limits of the law. Owen had been right, there isn’t a hell of a lot they can do without an actual crime being committed.

Which sucked, because it felt like tempting fate, waiting for Spencer to do something more drastic in order to get an arrest. It’s a shitty feeling, constantly analyzing and worrying, despite feeling safe with Owen at my side. But my conference is keeping me so busy, it’s a welcome distraction.

And now, after all the panels are completed, it’s nice to switch off for the day, heading toward my designated table where dinner will be served.

Owen follows behind me, never more than an arm’s length away, somehow looking as delightful as ever in a pair of black slacks and a black button-down, the top of his collar undone, showing off a peek of the ink that decorates his skin. I know he’s still carrying the gun, but he’s hidden it somewhere that isn’t obvious, likely so my guests don’t spot it and worry.

And beyond that, he lookscontentdespite following me around all day, listening to lectures that pertain to my career field, not his.

“Still happy that you agreed to come with me?” I ask as we take our seats at a round eight top, a few other therapists and their guests seated around it.

Owen smiles softly at me. “Are you kidding me?” he asks. “Watching the way your brilliant mind works is one of my absolute favorite pastimes. I can't comprehend half of what all these experts were saying all day, but the way you speak on the subjects? The insight that comes out of that beautiful mouth of yours?” He lays a hand over his chest, breathing deeply. “Riveting.”

A giddy sensation bubbles beneath my skin, and there's no way I can stop the grin that shapes my lips. If it’d been anyone else, I might have called sarcasm, but I knew Owen well enough to know when he’s being serious, and the compliment sinks deep into my heart.

“I don't know how to thank you for what you just said,” I admit, taking a sip of my water.

“You don't have to,” he says with a shrug. “It's just facts.”

I study him as a server comes to our table, explaining the two meal options we have to choose from before taking our orders. Ihate that there's still so much confusion about Owen and myself and what it is exactly that we're doing.

Not that I knew where we stood when we were texting as complete strangers, but now that we've been sleeping together? I can't help but wonder if that's all it is? That and the job he’s been hired to do?

My heart says no, but my brain—logical and analytical as it is—reminds me that we’ve never had any defining conversations.

And that's fair.

Honestly, this could be a convenience thing for Owen. His literal job is staying close to me to protect me. It’s a bonus that I happen to be physically and mentally attracted to him enough to sleep with him on the reg right?

That line of thinking leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, and I know for a fact I'm not giving Owen enough credit.

I think it’s more fear putting awful thoughts in my head, but it'salsomy fear that's keeping me from asking him about it. He said it himself numerous times that his job has prevented him from having an actual relationship, and I understand why. Being gone for months at a time would hinder things, and just the thought of not seeing him for that long? It puts a heavy weight in my stomach.

The reality of that emotion brings me up short, and I do my best to ground myself in the present, listening to the idle chatter that the guest on Owen’s right has started up with him.

“What are the odds that I ended up at your table, Dr. Casson?” a familiar masculine voice says, drawing me out of my thoughts as he drops into the empty seat on my left.

---