Kerry: Getting ready for bed now. It was nice to see you at lunch.
Owen: Any chance you might be alone again, say, midday tomorrow?
Kerry: I hoped you might ask that…
* * *
Owen packeda lunch for two this time. The day before he’d taken up Kerry’s entire break with kissing, and that had been nice, but a bit selfish. This time, he was prepared. He left the station five minutes before the time she’d told him she would be free, and had to hold himself back from running to his truck.
He was a kid all over again, single-mindedly focused on a big, fun thing. When he pulled into the parking lot behind the clinic, Kerry’s car was the only one there. He parked next to it, and as soon as he hopped down, she opened the door. She was wearing a sweater to ward off the cool fall weather, her feet shoved into knit slipper boots, and he wanted to toss her over his shoulder and carry her upstairs and show her how touchable she looked.
Instead, he followed her into the clinic’s kitchenette and set the brown bag lunch on the table. “I brought sustenance,” he managed to get out before she collided against him, her lips hungry.
“That’s the sustenance I really need,” she whispered against his skin. “But lunch is nice, too.”
Curving his hand over her shoulder, he traced the shape of her. Soft curves, firm muscle. He wanted to trace every inch of her, explore every rolling plane, but there wasn’t time for that. Settling his fingers on her waist, he tucked her right in against him and lowered his head so their faces were pressed forehead to forehead.
“I miss you during the day,” he whispered.
“Owen,” she breathed. He rubbed his hand back and forth under the hem of her shirt, over the soft skin on her sides. “Oh…”
He wanted to take her to bed. But more than that, he wanted to hold her and talk to her, and show her that he was her friend as well as her lover.
Of course he was drawn to her, aroused by her, and wanted her desperately. The way she made him laugh, and the way her body folded softly against his when he darkened her doorstep. He showed up with a frown, and she moved into him, giving him a hug every God damn time.
He probably didn’t deserve her sweetness. She had the brightest shining star of a personality and he was the town crank—or at least his family’s resident grump. He knew that, deep down, he had to try extra-hard to be worthy of Kerry, so he’d planned to bring her a picnic lunch. And it had still turned into making out.
He wasn’t trying to seduce her here. She was at work. He had to get back. They both needed to eat, and his craven wants were secondary to all of that. Loud, pulsing, but secondary. With a frustrated growl, he released her from his embrace and—gently—shoved her back.
She laughed and buried her face in her hands.
“Sorry about that,” he said roughly as he pulled out the sandwiches he’d made for them. “I can’t help myself.”
“Who said you should stop?”
He sat in one of the chairs and tugged her onto his knee. “Eat some food so I don’t feel bad about monopolizing your lunch hour.”
Her curls bounced around her face as she reached for a sandwich half and brought it to her mouth. “Please don’t feel bad. I miss you, too, and if you’re just down the street, I don’t know why we should deprive ourselves of a kiss or two.” It had been more than two. “But if you want to feed me, I’m not going to say no.” She took a big bite of the chicken salad. “This is delicious. Are those dried cranberries? Yum.”
“Secret ingredient.” He watched her eat, then joined her. “Hey listen, speaking of feeding you… How would you feel about joining us for Thanksgiving?”
She paused mid-bite, then took her time swallowing before she answered. “Who is us?”
“My brothers. Becca and Hayden and Charlie.”
“The whole family.” She hadn’t stiffened up or pulled away from him, but she was clearly reluctant.
Owen smoothed his hand over her back. “Never mind, it’s okay if you don’t want to do that kind of public thing.”
“It’s not that.” Her brows pulled together, like she was picking her words carefully. “It’s more like, are we there yet? We haven’t really talked about what this is and what it isn’t. But on the other hand, this is a really good sandwich, so I’m probably going to say yes.”
He laughed, because she was both earnest and funny, but also damn, that level of honesty was refreshing. “I want you to say yes, and if we need to talk about what this is—and isn’t—first, I’m fine with that. I like you so much, Kerry. I want to spend an obscene amount of time with you, and I’m happy for my family to know that I’m rolling out the good cranberry sauce just for you.”
“Tell me more about this sauce.” Her eyes sparkled as she leaned in for a quick kiss.
He told her about the entire meal. How Becca and Will usually did the sides, but the main elements were all Owen. A free-range turkey from a local farmer, dry-brined with spices. Sausage and apple stuffing. A special cranberry sauce this year, from scratch, since Kerry liked the chicken salad sandwich so much. The world’s best gravy.
“It all sounds amazing. I’m on call that weekend,” she warned. “But if I’m not with a client, I’m there.”
