Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 59265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
I found myself smiling at his profile, thankful for how quick he was on his toes.
“Oden, was it?” Martin, practiced in the art of trying to undermine someone’s confidence, asked, knowing full well it wasn’t.
“Owen, actually. But that’s okay. We all have our off days.” The light slipped from Martin’s eyes. “It was nice meeting you. But I’d like to get Willa a drink, if you’ll excuse us.”
I let myself be led away, casting a glance back to see my boss still looking dumbfounded, before smiling up at Owen.
“You are masterful.”
“I’ve had a lot of experience with men like him.”
“How so?”
“Contracting and doing handyman work. I spend a lot of time in houses like yours. But not everyone who owns them is as down-to-earth as you are. You get a lot of people who like to look down their noses at you because you’re working for them. I’ve figured out, over the years, how to call them out with plausible deniability.”
“That is a very handy skill.”
“Do you want something alcoholic or a mocktail?”
I could hear Gracie’s voice in my head, begging me to have fun, to let loose, to not worry about my milk when I had a freezer full of it.
“A mock appletini sounds good.”
Owen took a step forward, placing the order for our drinks, and I felt a strange little tingle of pleasure in my stomach.
Only some men could do things like order for me without giving me the ick. I guess it had to do with what I felt their intention was: to try to dominate me or to do so out of reverence. Nothing about Owen suggested he wanted a woman under his thumb.
“Thank you,” I said when he brought me my absurdly green drink. “I’ve got to know. Why do you have a tux?”
“I was a groomsman for a friend’s wedding. It was the third time in three years. I was paying a fortune in rentals. It made more sense to buy my own.”
“Makes perfect sense to me.”
“So, who else do I need to practice my particular skills on?” he asked, shooting me a smirk as he raised his glass to his lips.
I had to give Gracie credit.
Owen really was the best man for this particular job.
If there was ever a good reason to be away from my sweet baby, it was to watch Owen humble men who tried to get a rise out of me or condescend to him.
“I think you need to meet the Chrises.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Owen
Willa was gorgeous with her greasy hair in a top knot, pajamas, and a spit-up cloth on her shoulder.
So some part of me simply wasn’t prepared for how breathtaking she would be all dressed up in a gown.
I knew I was just supposed to be escorting her, wasn’t meant to feel any actual attraction toward her. But there was no fighting biology.
She was gorgeous.
I was noticing.
It didn’t have to be a big thing.
She was comfortable on the ride to the library, but as soon as we made our way in, she got more and more tense.
I got the impression that while she liked her job itself and her clients, she genuinely couldn’t stand her coworkers and boss.
Within two seconds of meeting said boss, I had to say I understood. And while she couldn’t put them in their place and keep her job, I had no problem making a comment or two that subtly put her coworkers in their places.
Each time I did, Willa shot me a pleased look that I couldn’t help but feel bolster up my ego.
Luckily, once she said her hellos to everyone she worked with, she stayed busy with her clients.
With them, she was bright, charming, relaxed, and confident. But very careful not to mention Adelaide. If someone brought up her leave, she kind of waved it off, quipped about how she was going to be so rested and ready to work for them when she came back, and changed the subject.
When she untangled herself from a particularly nosy group, she reached back, grabbed my wrist, and pulled me with her away from the crowd and in toward the stacks, not stopping until we were at the end of a row and hidden from view.
She collapsed back against the wall and exhaled hard.
“I have a very small baby,” she said.
“I’m aware.”
“And I think this sucks my energy more than she does.”
“In all fairness to your clients and coworkers, it’s not really their fault that they’re not as cute as your daughter.”
“That’s true,” she agreed, then reached toward me, sliding her hand under my coat.
I knew she was fishing for her phone. I could have handed it to her. But I liked her casual touch more than I probably should. The backs of her fingers barely grazed my chest, but my muscles tensed, my nerve endings fired off.