Page 72 of Take Me Away, Cowboy

“Who the hell?” She heard a scuffle on the other end, then, “Paige?”

“Yes, it’s Paige, and I’m sitting here with a guy who doesn’t even know his own name, who couldn’t stand up straight if he was tied to a flagpole.” She heard a chuckle on the other end.

“Well, that could be any number of guys around here. Who’d you pick up this time?”

“I’m glad you find it funny that you got my brother so slobbering drunk he vomited all over an Uber’s car and the hospital.”

“Wait. Now hold on, Paige. Your brother’s in the hospital?”

He assumed Brad was in the hospital for his own injuries or alcohol poisoning and because she wanted to see how he’d react, she didn’t correct him.

“So, do you mind telling me what the hell happened?”

She heard the scuffle again and guessed he was sitting up in bed, trying to tug on some clothes while he talked. Unfortunately, one of the liabilities she took with her in the breakup was the knowledge that Owen slept in the nude, and the images that had seared on her brain.

“Damn, well… When I left him, he was fine, a little buzzed, sure, but then again Steve had ordered another round. What happened?”

“You were out withSteve?” Suddenly the picture became all too clear. Owen might not have been the bad influence after all. Her brother’s best friend in Banberry was not only the owner of the best body and mechanic shop in town, but a world-class drinker and womanizer to boot. If he was involved with planning a wake, no doubt he’d find a way to make it a party and leave with the best-looking woman there.

“Yeah, it was gonna be those two, but they invited me. Brad thought I, uh, could use a night out with the guys.”

“Since when does that include so much drinking that someone ends up in the shape Brad’s in?”

“I agree. It shouldn’t. Is he okay? Should I come down?”

“He’ll be fine,” Paige said, unwilling to give Owen the win just yet.

“I’m coming down, Paige. You don’t have to see me, but I want to know he’s okay.”

Shit. Game over.

“He’s not the one in the hospital, Owen. But he could be. That’s how shit-faced he showed up.” She crossed her arms in defiance, whether or not he could see her.

“If he isn’t, then…” Now he assumed she’d been readmitted. That, she didn’t let hang in the air for even a second. It would be unforgivably cruel of her.

“My dad, it’s my dad. He fell off a ladder trying to fix that damned window. Knocked himself unconscious, broke a couple ribs. Ironic, huh? You ask me and we should level the damn barn, start over.”

The pause that followed forced Paige’s stomach to her throat.

“So, you’re okay?”

“I am.”

“And Brad is okay?”

“He is.”

“Will your dad be okay?”

“He’s fine. He’ll be sore, out for a couple weeks to recover, but nothing permanent.”

A softwhooshof air passed through the receiver.

“Jesus, Paige, you let me believe Brad was so fucked up he had to be hospitalized. That’s not fucking cool. You have no business blaming me for his inability to say no to his friend. Not anymore. I’m sorry about your dad, and I’ll check in with him later, but you and me? We’re done.”

The phone clicked, the silence excruciating and endless this time.

Shit, shit, shit, Paige muttered under her breath. She’d thought she’d lost Owen earlier when he’d stormed out of her place, but somehow this seemed more final, more permanent. Something about the way he’d stormed out of her apartment led her to believe she had time to figure it out with him.

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