I couldn't believe this. If anyone was due to deliver an apology, it wasme.
"You were not an ogre," I shotback.
"You can say it," he replied with a baleful shrug. "I was an ogre. Ithappens."
This was it. This had to be it. The laststraw.
"Actually, we should talk about my business," I started. "There are a few things you shouldknow."
Owen kept his gaze trained on the docks behind the fish market as he maneuvered around other lobster boats. "Yeah, if that's what you want," he said. "Let's finish up here and then you can give me the whole song and dance." He shot me a quick glance. "Will there be any singing or dancing? I get the impression you've got moves,McClish."
"What gives you that idea?" I replied, feigning a truckload ofindignation.
Owen chuckled. "The way you move your hips when you like what you're getting. The way you shake your ass when you want myattention."
Was there anything that escaped Owen's notice? There couldn'tbe.
"Ass shaking aside," I started, sliding a hand down to give his rear end a squeeze, "we're going to the bookstorenext."
I was stalling. Definitelystalling.
"The only reason you're pinching my ass is because you want me pounding yours," hewarned.
I didn't respond until he stared at me for a moment. "Are you waiting for me to deny it?" I asked. "If so, you're going to keep onwaiting."
"Such a smart mouth on you. Where'd you say you went toschool?"
"I didn't," I replied. "It's act one in the performance. You'll have to wait to find out, but not until after we visit your dear friendAnnette."
"Then after that," he said, steering the boat into one of the empty slips. "It's not like you're going anywhere,right?"
"Right," Imurmured.
"Toss those buoys over, would you?" Owen asked, pointing to the dock. "Go ahead and shake that ass a little while you doit."
* * *
"What does Annette have for you?"I asked as we walked through Talbott's Cove's tiny downtown. "Other than a major crush and the names of the five children she wants to have withyou."
"You're not funny," Owen murmured, shaking his head while he growled like an angrybear.
"You're cute when you're irritable," I replied. "Lucky for me, you're alwaysirritable."
I glanced at the lovingly maintained sidewalk planters and window boxes on each storefront. This town, with its tavern, general store, inn, and short string of shops dotting the streets around the harbor, defined quaint. It was something out of a magazine, or one of those free calendars realtors liked to send their clients with idyllic scenes from far-off locations. Places that didn't seemreal.
"Something about American Revolution battles," Owen said. He shoved his hands in his pockets and jerked his shoulders up as he spoke. "The untold stories andwhatnot."
"You like history," I said, studying Owen for any reaction or gesture of agreement. I received none. "Andliterature."
"Do we really need an inquisition right now,McClish?"
Ah, my beast. There hewas.
"I made two observations, Bartlett. That's hardly an inquisition. It would be an inquisition if I asked you to defend your preference for Whitman over Keats, or Melville over Joyce. An inquisition would be me asking you to explain why you'd want to explore the battles of the American Revolution when you probably covered them in high school, whereas you probably did not learn about the Belgian Revolution of 1789. A true inquisition would force you to attribute the success of the American Revolution to one influential individual—not George Washington—and compare that personto—"
"Enough," Owen roared as he ground to a halt. He tossed up his hands, ripped his baseball cap from his head, and ran his hands through his hair. "I'm not in the mood to choke on your huge IQ rightnow."
I continued for several steps before stopping and pivoting to stare at him. His hands were perched on his hips and I could almost see the waves of frustration radiating from his body. If I didn't know him better, I'd think he was about to go Hulk Smash on this town. But I was beginning to believe that I did know him, and I knew he liked it when I pushed him. When I forced him to interact with me despite his desire to retreat into his thoughts. When he needed to get out of his head—and his worries about damaging Annette's feelings—for aminute.
