Page 8 of Filthy Sweet

Owen visibly relaxes. “Sure. Have you been to the Seattle Natural History Museum?”

“A couple times, actually. They got that dinosaur.”

“Exactly! And you know how when you go to a museum, there are little placards that explain what you’re looking at and illustrated guides? Stuff like that?”

“Right.”

“My job is to write those.”

I blink. “Shit. All of them?”

Owen laughs. “No, I’m part of a team. It’s a whole process.”

“Fuck yeah. I always knew you were going to do something cool.”

Owen looks surprised by that and pleasantly so. “You did?”

Before I can respond, Reggie appears at the table, another round of drinks in his hands, although I notice he’s gotten himself a water, self-electing to be the driver. “What’s up?” he asks enthusiastically. “Talking gay stuff?”

“Reggie,” Owen and I both scold at the same time. Then all three of us laugh.

Reggie looks on his brother, dopey love in his smile. The guy has a heart big enough to fill his barrel chest. It’s the reason I tracked him down in our early twenties, years after I ran from our hometown. Life can be shit, but it helps to have at least one person around that you believe in, and growing up, Reggie was always that guy for me.

He turns to me. “What’s the name of that gay bar? The one you used to drag me to?”

I chuckle. “Ryder’s?” I haven’t been there in years, not since I started at the label and got a public profile.

“That’s the one,” Reggie says. “Maybe we should go dancing? Owen’s ready to start dating.”

Owen holds a hand in the air. “Please avoid making me sound like a teenager when possible.”

Reggie laughs loudly. “Sorry, little bro,” he says, then musses up Owen’s hair.

I chuckle at the look on Owen’s face. I hate when Reggie messes up my hair, too.

“Sure,” I say. “Let’s hit up Ryder’s this weekend. I could blow off a little steam.” I tilt my eyes to Owen. “Your brother is a horrible wingman, though. He’s too friendly. Everyone thinks he’s flirting with them.”

Owen laughs. “That sounds right.”

Reggie looks to his brother. “You in? Dancing this weekend?” He moves his fists in a circle in front of his chest in what I think is supposed to be a cabbage patch. “Should be fun.”

“Sure,” Owen answers, blushing again. “Sounds great.”

Chapter Four

Owen

“What about this shirt?”I ask Robin, holding the white button-up I wore under my graduation robe. “This is nice, right?”

Robin frowns. We’re in my new one-bedroom apartment, surrounded by unpacked boxes, and my friend sits on the couch with her legs folded under her, watching me and twirling her long auburn hair in her fingers. She came straight from campus and wears her full professor gear, with a collared pink shirt tucked into fashionable trousers.

“Something a little less stuffy? You want to look approachable.”

I frown at the shirt. “This is stuffy?”

Robin laughs. “Just wear your tight jeans and one of your mint-green T-shirts.”

“My lab outfit?”

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