All the Way (Hot Jocks #2)(6)

“Hey.” He stops next to me, his expression is neutral, his cool gray eyes appraising me. “Thought I’d find you here.”

I place my hands on my knees, bending over to draw deep lungfuls of air as my heart beats uncomfortably fast. “What are you doing here?”

I dare a glance up at him, thankful my eyes are covered with sunglasses.

He’s in a pair of black athletic joggers, a white T-shirt, and a black baseball cap, which is pulled down low. He hasn’t shaved in at least a week, and the stubble covering his jaw is dark, at least a shade darker than his messy brown hair.

Owen turns to face me, his expression relaxed, not giving anything away. “The better question is, how the hell are you running after all that tequila?”

“I really don’t know.” I huff out a sigh.

I sneaked out of his place early this morning when I woke with a pounding headache and a constant reel of flashbacks playing in my head of the night before. All I could see was myself having way too much tequila, Owen being a gentleman and taking me to his room and offering me his bed, and then me throwing myself at him and practically mauling the poor guy.

Not practically—I did maul him. I held his penis in my hand.

Not my finest moment.

“Can we talk?” he asks, his voice much softer than normal. “About last night.”

I groan and push a stray strand of hair that’s escaped my ponytail behind my ear. “I was kind of hoping we didn’t have to.”

Owen chuckles, but something about it seems forced. “Come on. It won’t be that bad. I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.”

I nod, choosing to ditch the rest of my run and face last night head on. We walk in silence to a coffee shop on Bryant and sit at a round table for two after purchasing a large ice water and a muffin for me, and a coffee for Owen.

“Are you sure you don’t want a latte? I know they’re you’re favorite,” he says, lifting his cup to his lips for a small sip.

I shake my head, grabbing my water. “I think I need to rehydrate. But thanks.”

He wouldn’t let me order just a water, and insisted I get something to eat too. I love the banana muffins here, but my stomach is still rebelling. At what, I’ve yet to pinpoint.

“So, listen, the things that happened last night. Can we just . . . clear the air?”

“Mm-hmm,” I mutter with a squeak, then stuff a bite of muffin in my mouth. Chew. Swallow. Breathe. Act normal. You’ve got this.

“Okay, cool. Because I couldn’t sleep at all last night. If I did anything to fuck up our friendship . . .”

He thought he fucked up our friendship?

I hold up one hand, stopping him. “Owen, you didn’t. At all.”

Positioning the straw to my lips, I take a long sip while my brain scrambles in sixteen different directions as I consider how to play this.

Pretend like I don’t remember last night?

Then why would I have rushed out of there this morning like my ass was on fire?

Admit I do need some help overcoming my fears, and it wasn’t the tequila talking?

I’d rather die by a thousand paper cuts.

A third option emerges, and before it’s even fully formed in my brain, I latch onto it like a newborn to a nipple.

“Owen Parrish?” a female voice calls out from across the coffee shop.

Both of our heads turn at the same time to take in the petite blonde headed for our table with her eyes locked firmly on Owen.

She stops beside Owen, peering down at him, oblivious to the fact that he’s here with someone else. “Why didn’t you call me back?” she asks, pouting out her lower lip like a lost puppy.

“Uhhh . . .” Owen makes a noise of surprise in his throat, his gaze darting to mine.

I grin at him. If he thinks I’m going to help him out of this situation, he’s crazy. I sit back and get ready to enjoy the show.

“It’s Melanie, right?”

She rolls her eyes. “Melissa.”

“Right. I’m sorry about not calling. I just thought it was kind of a . . . one-time thing.”

The crease in her forehead deepens as she looks at him like he’s grown a second head. “We had sex three times. I’m not great at math, but to me, that’s not a one-time thing.”

Owen clears his throat, clearly a little uncomfortable. And obviously thinking he slept with her two times too many. “I’m sorry if I led you to believe something was going to happen between us. I’m not really a relationship kinda guy.”

Without another word, the blonde grabs my ice water from the table, dumps the entire thing into Owen’s lap, and then storms away.

I snicker into my fist as he stands, sending ice and water running from his crotch onto the floor. A barista hurries over with a push mop and tells him not to worry.

Owen looks down at me, frowning. “Fuck, I’m sorry you had to witness that.”

Shrugging, I stand and grab my earbuds from the table. “I think I still have one of your sweatshirts at my apartment. You want to come change?”

“Please.”

I lead the way out of the coffee shop, chuckling at Owen, who waddles like a duck as he follows me. Watching a man who’s six foot four and two hundred twenty pounds of muscle waddle is rather hilarious, and I can’t help but grin.