Page 53 of Owen Bailey Needs Advice

I’ve no doubt that one day I’ll call the girl sister, so why not ask for a little sisterly advice? Coco isn’t here. She stayed home with her girl. Tomorrow, they’ll go trick-or-treating, and she didn’t want to be out two nights in a row. Parenthood sounds exhausting.

I watch as Meredith holds up her finger, indicating to Levi that she’ll be right back. She’s crazy if she thinks he’s going to stay out there—without her.

Just like I knew he would—he follows directly behind her.

And while I know Levi won’t agree with any of my plans, I don’t care. I ignore him while asking Meredith, “She recommended physical touch. Do you think that’s a good idea? For Annie, I mean.” It’s not like touching Annie is new… but I’ll be touching her with new intention. She’ll feel that.

Meredith nods at me. It’s so loud in this room, so she cups her hand over her mouth and directs it my way. “That’s perfect. Hold her hand. Stroke her arm. Brush a lock of hair out of her eyes.” She gives me a thumbs-up before Levi pulls her back out onto the dance floor.

He doesn’t seem to care thatThe Monster Mashis playing; he holds Meredith in his arms, and before long, I have to look away.

I go on the hunt for Annie. Last I saw her, she was in the kitchen, restocking food.

The noise dampens when I cross into the galley kitchen. It opens to a large dining space that Annie has decorated and splayed with all sorts of finger foods. There’s still a hum of chatter, but the music isn’t as loud.

Annie hasn’t left the kitchen. She’s chopping more veggies, assembling them to look somehow like little Frankenstein’s. They’ll stand right next to her pigs in blanket mummy men.

I stretch out my arm and snatch hold of her wrist. “Hey,” I whisper, close enough so she can hear me. I don’t let go but move closer, drowning in the orange blossoms that follow her wherever she goes. “Can I help?”

She nods, wraps one arm around my back, and goes up on tiptoes. She’s touching me—hey, that works too. “Can you cube the cheese?” she asks, her lips at my ear, attempting to block out the noise of the party.

I move my cutting board right next to hers. My side brushes hers as I chop and she assembles. Does this count as touching, Ask Annie?

We’ve only been working a minute when some guy I’ve never seen before walks up. “Annie,” he says, but his eyes dart to me. He swallows and his nose wrinkles. Yep—I’m immediately not a fan. And I pretty much like everyone. “Great party.”

“Thanks, Marco.” Annie gives him a small grin but doesn’t sway from her work. I hand her my bowl of cubed cheeses, then rest my arm over her shoulders.

Marco’s brows lift as he looks me over once more. “I didn’t realize you were here with anyone. Couple costume, eh?”

To my surprise, Annie doesn’t deny what he’s said. “This is Owen.”

Marco gives me one dutiful nod, and then his eyes are back on Annie. “So, did you think about next weekend? My offer still stands.”

“I did. I answered. And it hasn’t changed,” she says, all while grinning, all while assembling little Frankensteins.

Is this guy hitting on her? In front of me?

Sure, I’m just a friend. But he doesn’t know that. In fact, he’s the one who implied we might be more.

I’ve watched guys hit on Annie before, but not when they thought we were together. And notnow—now that I’m doing something. Now that I’m trying.

“Are these finished?” I ask, able to see very well that they are not. I mean, the cheese is cut, the meat is cut, the crackers are out, but the Frankensteins… only half are assembled.

“Um—”

“Great.” I run my hand down the length of her arm and entwine our fingers. “Dance,” I say, reverting back to my caveman days. For good measure, I give her a wink, and when I pull on her hand, she doesn’t stop me.

Levi is at the TV, messing with the remote and the list of upcoming songs. With a few clicks, he switches the song to something slow. Bless that grouch of a brother.

My nerves twitch, knowing I’m going to do something that Irarely do—at least not like this and not under these circumstances. Still, I want to do this. Nothing but a hard pass from Annie could stop me now.

I lead her to the middle of the room, where ten other couples are coming together to slow dance. I don’t let go of her hand. I pull her into me, wrapping one arm around her back and then the other. Her arms tangle up about my neck, and while we aren’t dancing properly—like Grandma Bailey taught us all those years ago—we are dancingclose.

Annie peers up at me, her full lips parting with her grin. Her hand comes up to ruffle the dino headdress I’m still sporting. “You look good as a T-rex,” she says.

“You always look good.” The words are out before I can stop them. It’s like Ask Annie’s advice has created a monster, and I’m going to have to mindfully rein myself in.

But Annie only giggles while batting her eyes at me like a goofball—as if I’ve made a joke. “Thanks for saving me in there.”

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