Page 9

Holding his gaze for a second too long, my cheeks grow warm, and I quickly look away again while asking my boss, “Is Owen moving into the empty apartment?”

Miles nods. “He moved in earlier today.”

My eyebrow lifts, and it’s difficult to ignore the burst of excitement in my chest. Trying to be nonchalant, I reply, “Oh . . . He didn’t make any sounds.”

Alison, the previous bartender, didn’t even last a month. She was very noisy and had men going in and out of her apartment all day long. She was also late for work every other day, which didn’t sit well with Miles, so he fired her.

Honestly, I was relieved. Some of Alison’s male friends gave me the creeps.

I hesitate before I bite the bullet and ask, “Do you know if he’s married?”

My boss narrows his eyes at me. “He’s single, but don’t you go get any ideas.” He looks at the last few stragglers, then walks to the pass-through and tells Harlan, “You can close the kitchen. We’re done for tonight.”

“Okay,” Harlan replies, wiping his hands off on a towel.

When I glance at the corner booth, it’s empty. Noticing the few dollar bills Owen left behind, I go to collect the cash and place it in the register.

I feel a flicker of disappointment because Owen left without saying goodbye.

“You can go home,” Miles says before yawning.

“Are you sure?” I ask. “I don’t mind locking up tonight.”

He nods as he takes a seat by the register to cash out. “Night, Annie.”

I take off the apron and tuck it behind the counter. “Good night, guys.”

“See you tomorrow,” Harlan calls from the kitchen.

When I leave the bar, I glance up and down the quiet sidewalk before I take the short walk to the side entrance. I key in the four-digit code to unlock the metal door, and when I pull it open, there’s movement by the dumpsters to my left. I let out a startled gasp and dart a couple of steps away before realizing it’s Owen.

He must’ve thrown out some trash.

“Sorry,” he says, his tone low and a little rough around the edges. Opening the door wider, he indicates for me to enter the stairwell.

Hmm . . . Owen being a gentleman only makes my interest in him grow more.

I clear my throat. “No worries.” When I move past him, I catch a hint of his scent. Soap, skin, and heat. Nothing extra, which only makes him seem even more manly.

I like it.

“Thank you,” I murmur, nerves spinning in my stomach.

When Owen shuts the door and falls in beside me, I’m so aware of the way he moves, I’m once again overwhelmed by his mere presence.

As we climb the stairs, my mind races for something to say, but then, to my utter embarrassment, my foot catches on one of the steps, and I teeter sideways. Before it can fully register that I’ve tripped and I’m falling against Owen, his arms lock around me. My hand slaps against his abs, and the only thing that I can take in is how rock hard his muscles are.

“Sorry.” The word rushes from me while my gaze flies to his face.

His eyes lock with mine, and it feels as if he keeps me imprisoned while staring into the deepest part of my soul.

Holy crap, he’s intense.

Just like earlier, we stare at each other for longer than is acceptable. Thinking I need to say something, my lips part a couple of times, but I can’t come up with anything.

Luckily, I still have some brain activity, and when I right myself on my feet, Owen’s hand moves to my lower back.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice sounding deeper.