And I do.
I give it all to him.
My pleasure.
My body.
My obedience.
Chapter Fifteen
Owen
“Alittle to the left.”
I slide the couch to the left a few inches and step out of the way for Mom and Sharon to examine. My mom and Cal’s mom went antiquing today, and both fell in love with pieces and needed help getting them home and then moving their existing furniture to put them in place. First, we went to Mom’s place, and now we’re at Sharon’s.
“Perfect.”
“Anything else while you've got me?”
“No, sweetie,” Mom says. “You’ve done enough. Thanks for the help.”
I wrap an arm around her shoulders. “It’s no trouble, you know that.”
“Well, we appreciate you sacrificing your Saturday afternoon to move furniture for a couple of old ladies.”
“Nonsense. You two don’t look a day over twenty-five.”
“Boy, you are too charming for your own good. Let me get you a clean shirt. You’re covered in dust.”
“It’s fine, Sharon.”
“Hush. I have a stack of T-shirts from the store in the back room. I’ll be right back.”
I could argue with her, but it won’t do me any good. These two women get what they want. It’s no different with Daisy. I’d give her anything, all she has to do is ask.
“So, how’s that grand puppy of mine?”
“She’s a handful, but she’s great.”
“I’m glad you have someone to share that big old house of yours.”
My house isn’t big, but it was feeling a bit lonely until Maui scampered into it. It’s nice not to be alone. It doesn’t hurt knowing Daisy has been in my space when I’m not there.
“You don’t have to worry about me, Mom. I’m all good.”
“I just hate that you’re alone. You have so much to give.”
“I agree with your mother. You’re a catch, Owen Swift. Now, take off that nasty shirt and put this on.”
Great, now they’re ganging up on me. Without thinking about it, I yank my dirty shirt over my head. When Sharon comes back into view, she holds a fresh T-shirt out to me, her mouth hanging open. It takes me a second to realize my error.
Shit.
I tug the clean McKinnon Hardware T-shirt over my head, hoping to avoid a new, unwanted topic of conversation. But I’m not so lucky.
“Owen Swift! What is that? When do you get a tattoo?”
