Shrugging, I pop another blueberry in my mouth. I go to jump off the counter, but he stops me.
“How’s the arm?” he asks, serious now.
“Fine.”
He walks to the island, picks up a small tin, and hands it to me. “My grandmother makes it. Helps with healing.”
Staring at the container, I twist the lid off. The smell hits me—honey and beeswax and flowers. It’s divine.
“Let me help you,” he says, reaching for my arm.
I must be in some sort of shock because I do without objection. He pulls my arm out of my sleeve, careful not to expose my chest. Unwrappingthe gauze bandage, he dips his long fingers in the balm. The smell of it grows more intense, and I subconsciously inhale deeper. Owen pauses at the sound of my breath.
I halt breathing altogether.
He waits only a moment before carefully applying the balm. I’m surprised at the softness of it. It's soothing, and I almost groan in relief.
He carefully wraps my arm with a clean bandage and helps me pull my arm back through the oversized sleeve of his shirt.
When he’s done, he looks at me. I meet his gaze and suddenly realize how close he is. He’s pressed against the counter between my legs, and somehow, even sitting on the counter, I still find myself angling my head upward to meet his eyes.
He doesn’t move, and I don’t make him. I know he’d move away if I asked. I know Ishouldtell him to move away, but I find my lips can’t form the words.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers.
I swallow. “For what?”
“For getting you into this mess. I never wanted to put anyone in danger, least of all you.”
“I’m not the one in danger, Mr. Mills. You are. I just happened to save your ass, and I’ll likely have to do it again. Over and over and over—”
He cuts me off by placing a finger on my lips, and I freeze. His finger feels rough against my skin, and it makes me shiver.
He doesn’t move his finger as he smirks. “I have no doubt, Miss Riley, but regardless, I am truly sorry and understand if you want to resign.”
He drops his hand, his face turning serious now.
I cock my head to the side and regard him. “And miss all the fun?”
A hint of a smile turns his lips up as he finally takes a step back. “You’ll be the death of me.”
He has no idea.
Jumping down from the counter, I grab the spoon next to the stove. I dip it into the tomato sauce and blow on it before popping it in my mouth.
Owen watches me with curiosity, raising a brow when I turn and face him.
“This is really good,” I mumble, taking another spoonful.
He smiles, the dimple returning. “Of course it is.”
Rolling my eyes, I make my way to the couch, letting him finish dinner.
I stare out the window, knowing I should call Declan. Knowing I need help. Knowing I’m stupidly falling for this guy. But somehow I can’t get myself to pick up the phone.
Chapter 17
“This place only has two bedrooms. I’ll let you have the master. I’m used to sleeping in my childhood room anyway,” Owen explains after a delicious dinner of homemade pizza and salad.
