Page 40 of Fragile Hearts

One day…

“You pick,” Owen presses, but I shake my head. “I’m paying, so get out of your head about cost or whatever you’re doing.” He smiles at me and winks, reading my mind, and there’s something so sweet about it.

“How do you know that’s what I’m doing?” I question, narrowing my eyes as he takes my board, placing it on the rack outside the house.

“You do this thing where you gnaw on your bottom lip when something makes you nervous, like you’re processing it and trying to decide what to do.”

My tongue slips out and wets my lips, and I realize he’s right. I do that every time something makes me uncomfortable, and now I wonder if I should stop doing it, that I’m so transparent that everyone can read what I’m thinking.

“I don’t think you should stop doing it, Sloane,” Owen says, and my mouth falls open. I don’t think I said anything, but here he is, reading my mind again.

“You’re cheeky, you know that?”

“I’ve been called other things, but cheeky is not one of them. I’ll take that as a compliment from you,” he teases, his perfect smile on display. “So, where are we having lunch?”

“Do you want to go near campus so we can just head over when we’re done?” I ask, stalling because I seriously don’t know what to tell him.

Most of the places I like are just little hole-in-the-wall types, and Owen Sinclair is not who I expect to enjoy a dive restaurant, but as I think this, I catch myself.

He’s never once made it obvious just how wealthy he is, working at The Pipe Dream, teaching surf lessons, volunteering to help with the surf school. If anything, he comes across as just your typical local, especially with his lack of a shirt that is his signature.

“How about Bonnie’s Tacos? It’s my favorite. They have the best nachos. Daisy, Alana and I would go and split them after a day on the water.”

“Great. The guys and I go a lot too. Surprised I never saw you there,” Owen says, and I giggle a little, remembering how we walked in once and I walked right back out when I saw him.

God, I was such an asshole to him at times.

“I gotta tell you something,” I say, my cheeks turning warm with my soon-to-be admission. “Once you and the guys were in there, and I made Daisy and Alana leave so you wouldn’t see me.”

Owen puts his hand on his chest, his head falling back as he lets out a groan. “You’re breaking my heart, Sloane. Was I really that bad?” His words are playful, and again he hits me with that smile, his dimple dotting his cheek.

“No. I was just…”

“Scared? Nervous? Worried?”

“All of those things,” I admit. “You’re just so…” I pause, trying to find the right word but failing, and Owen begins to fill them in.

“Handsome? Amazing? Talented?” He laughs after each one, but honestly, they’re all true. He is all of these things and more.

“And humble,” I say, and he slings an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side. His lips drop to the top of my head, pressing a soft kiss.

I love the slow build of our relationship, the unrushed feeling and the no pressure he puts on it. He doesn’t have any expectations for me, and the guilt tugs tightly in my stomach.

All my preconceived ideas about Owen Sinclair and why I wouldn’t give him a chance have been proven wrong at every turn.

“So humble,” he adds, making me laugh. “Go get changed, and we’ll head out in a bit. Sound good?”

“Perfect.”

Lunch is great. Class is interesting. And now Owen has dropped me off at his house, needing to head over to the hotel to meet with his dad about something. I’m making dinner. Nothing fancy. Just some spaghetti and garlic bread and waiting for him to get back.

I took Mochi for a walk along the ocean and even got in the water for a bit. I feel like I pretty much live in my swimsuit being this close to the water now. Even Mochi has adjusted well, prancing in the surf and getting his fur wet.

He’s currently napping in his little bed, snoozing away while I cook. I have some music playing, and I begin to sing along, dancing, my hips swaying to the beat.

This house is incredible. The built-in speakers, the gourmet kitchen, and all the appliances are things I could certainly get used to. I’m already spoiled with my own bathroom and that shower that could literally fit two comfortably. And now my brain is picturing Owen in there with me, all toned muscles and tanned skin, the water cascading down his body.

My hips begin to move even more, seeking friction that they aren’t going to find, and I’m now thinking about my conversation with Daisy. If she’s right, Owen is going to be unreal in bed, and I can’t help but wonder how the hell that thing is going to fit if it really is twelve inches.

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