Sharon reaches out to me, so I give her my hand. “You’re a good man, Owen Swift.”
And that’s it.
No more questions. No more shocked faces.
As if my tattoo didn’t exist, the two of them discuss their upcoming cruise to Alaska. We make small talk, and I somehow eat two pancakes. Sharon asks me to take a case of water to the tack room in the horse barn, so of course I do.
Driving my truck to the barn, I look in my rearview mirror and see two of the three most important women in my life embracing.
I appreciate their respect and for not pressing me about our relationship. But they clearly had a lot more on their minds. I still don’t know what the emotions that flashed across their faces meant. Now that I’ve seen our mothers’ reactions I can’t help but wonder if maybe I’m not good enough for my lucky four-leaf clover. I’ve been so certain of my feelings for her, I never stopped to think if her hesitation was due to more than her brother.
I carry the water into the barn, my mind whirling with doubt and disappointment. Feeling a bit lost, I’m not really focusing on my surroundings until I see a sheet of paper out of the corner of my eye. It’s attached to the saddle I made for Daisy.
TOUCH THIS AND DIE!
LOOK AT ITS BEAUTY FROM A DISTANCE!
BUT KEEP YOUR HANDS TO YOURSELF!!!!
My fingertips glide over the leather I put so much time and care into. My heart, which had sunk minutes ago, now beats furiously in my chest. This piece of paper may not be a declaration of love for me, but she loves the saddle I crafted for her. It’s enough.
For now.
I’m a patient man, but I can only take so much. This is the hopeful light at the end of the long dark tunnel I needed.
It doesn’t matter how our moms feel.
Or how Cal feels.
I’m still waiting for the only person whose feelings matter to admit what she wants.
And I’ll keep waiting as long as she needs me to.
Chapter Sixteen
Daisy
Tucked away in a corner booth, away from prying eyes, Mark lifts his glass of wine, and I clink mine against it.
“Cheers to getting you back to my place where I can thank you properly for flying down for the weekend.” He quirks an eyebrow playfully.
I smile, taking a sip of my wine instead of agreeing.
Fortunately, our server interrupts when he drops off the oysters Mark ordered. He didn’t bother to ask whether I liked them. If he had, he would have known I don’t. Owen would know this, and it infuriates me that he crosses my mind as I sit in this expensive restaurant with a smart, handsome man across from me.
I’ll admit that after last weekend, I almost didn’t get on the plane. But the stubborn side of me refused to prove Owen right. In the bedroom, I have no problem letting him boss me around, but outside of that, he doesn’t get to tell me what to do.
Nobody does.
Mark isn’t the man for me. I know this. However, no matter how involved my heart has been since our moonlit dance, neither is Owen. Even if he is all I’ve thought about since leaving his bed Sunday morning.
His parting words as we stood at the front door of his Mr. Angel rental have continued to play on repeat in my head all week.
“Cut him loose, Clover. He’s not me. And as much as it sickens me to say this, if you have to sleep with him to realize that, so be it. As long as this is your last trip to L.A. and you come to your senses, the misery on my end will be worth it.”
He kissed my forehead and sent me on my way, knowing exactly what he was doing. He wanted not only my body, but my mind consumed with only him.
There is nothing unintentional about Owen Swift.
