"Are you all right?" Owen asked, his hand skimming down myflank.
"I'm good," I said. "This wasgood."
Owen started to say something but stopped himself. I need him to say something. Eventually, he curled his arm around my waist and blew out a breath. "Get some rest, McClish. The sun's up in a fewhours."
It wasn't what I needed, but it wassomething.
14
Above Board
n. On or above the deck; in plain view; not hidinganything.
Cole
Owen was awake first.I didn't have to look outside to know he was on the dock, readying theSweet Carolyne, because recent days had taught me he was a creature of habit. A habit that excused him from acknowledging that we'd spent the night curled around each other. It was simpler this way. Simple was good, at least fortoday.
But as the dawn broke into day, I was increasingly confused about where things stood. It wasn't like Owen was the kind of guy who enjoyed sitting down for tea and sorting it all out. That was another place where we deviated. My brain preferred the precise, and without it, I was edgy and untethered. Aside from the tug of my sore, satisfied muscles, it was an ordinary outing on the water followed by a trip to the local market, and dinner on the porch, and the entire time, I wanted to scream, "What is going on withus?"
Of course I didn't. I'd made it to thirty-four years old without experiencing a relationship of any substance. Dating in Silicon Valley was fraught with complications. People were drawn to me for my money, my status, my power, but never once forme. On most days, I doubted that anyone in the Valley knew me at all. Sure, I was the CEO—err, former CEO—with the temper and the track record of transforming the industry, but that wasn't the sum of myparts.
But Owen…he didn't know the CEO. He didn't know any of it, and in that, he was the only one who knewme.
And that was what made the possibility of Owen telling me it was a one-night thing the worst scenario. That he didn't want more, or didn't want more ofme, and it would be finished forus.
Instead of talking through my issues, I'd skipped the preseason NFL game and retired to the guest room to work on some programming projects after dinner. It was an out for Owen. If he didn't want anything more than a deckhand, I wasn't going to force theissue.
My phone blew up with notifications every time I powered it on, but I ignored all of them tonight. Neera's messages were the only ones that interested me. That, and I required adistraction.
Neera:People are starting to ask questions about your vacation. I don't have anything to tellthem.
Cole:Are they wondering if it'spermanent?
Neera:Some, but not all. A few questions about whether you're working for the government. A few questions about whether you're working against the government. Others have asked if you're writing a book, starting a new company, in rehab, planning a run foroffice.
Neera:It's mostly BS. Not difficult to shutdown.
Cole:Good.
Neera:It would be easier if I had the real story and didn't look as clueless as everyone else. You know the bloggers and reporters come to me before going to the PRteam.
Cole:You know what they say aboutsecrets.
Neera:Three people can keep them so long as two aredead.
Cole:There yougo.
But then,not long after I'd opened my laptop and dived into coding headspace, Owen barged into the room wearing only his boxer briefs. I blinked twice as I dragged my glasses down my nose becauseholy fuck, that man was beautiful. He was a bear. A big, angrybear.
He beckoned me toward him with a hot stare. "Why aren't you inbed?"
I ran my hand over the quilt beneath me in what I hoped to be an illustrativeresponse.
"My bed," heclarified.
"Yourbed?" I repeated. "Youmean—"
"Get your ass in there right now," he barked. "What are you even doing inhere?"
