All the Way (Hot Jocks #2)(7)

“That was quite a show back there.”

“Ha-ha,” he says dryly, flashing me a dark, mocking look. Then he nudges me in the ribs with his elbow. “I’m really sorry about that.”

“Stop. It’s fine. She’s probably just some psycho fan.” I wave him off.

He doesn’t need to apologize. I’ve hung around Owen long enough to know this is how things go. He’s not an asshole, but he is a celebrity. He’s young and wealthy and talented, and on one of the best teams in the entire league. Everyone wants a piece of him.

I know he garners a lot of female attention. It’s never bothered me before, and I’m not going to let it bother me now. Especially not when we have bigger things to worry about. Like, oh, I don’t know, the entire weight of our friendship hanging in the balance.

We reach my building and climb the stairs to the second floor. When I unlock the door, Owen steps in behind me, stripping his T-shirt off over his head.

I reach for it, trying hard not to notice his eight-pack abs or deliciously firm, sculpted chest. “I’ll put it in the dryer while I find the sweatshirt. You want me to throw your pants in too?”

He shakes his head. “I’m okay.”

I make a noise of disagreement. “You can’t walk around in wet clothes. Just give them to me.”

“Trying to get me out of my pants again, huh?” He smirks at me, obviously trying to lighten the mood.

I chuckle, even though my cheeks grow warm. “Just come on.”

“I’m, uh, not wearing any boxers.”

“Oh. Right.”

And we’re right back to where we started—me trying desperately not to picture his dick.

This is ridiculous. It’s Owen. One drunken mistake isn’t going to come between us. I won’t let it. Even if I’m now blushing furiously over the fact that he goes commando. Come to think of it, I realize there were no boxers to contend with last night either.

Composing myself, I swallow. “They need to be dried. Go change into my robe. It’s clean and hanging on the back of my bedroom door.” I shoo him toward my room, and he goes without complaint.

A moment later, he emerges dressed in a pink terrycloth robe, and I erupt into a fit of giggles.

“My, my.” I wiggle my eyebrows at him. “Pink really suits you. It brings out your—”

“Fuck you.” He coughs into his fist, his signature playful smirk on full display.

I shake my head, still laughing. “No, you look . . . so pretty. Adorable even.”

Extending his arms out to his sides, he does a spin, encouraging me. “Laugh it up, Becs.”

Relief washes through me at the realization that maybe, just maybe, our friendship hasn’t been completely ruined. If Owen is still joking with me and poking fun, there’s a chance we’ll be okay. Because really that’s all I want—to come out on the other side of this unscathed. Well, and to be okay with the opposite sex, but baby steps. Am I right?

He settles onto the couch while I grab a couple of bottles of water from the fridge. I was serious about being dehydrated.

“We were interrupted back there,” he says, uncapping his water once I settle in beside him.

I nod, sucking in a deep breath. “Yep. I, uh, was about to tell you about a proposition I have for you.”

“I’m listening.” He sets his water bottle down and leans back on the couch, showing me I have his full attention.

Owen really is a good friend. When I met Elise four years ago, I never could have imagined I’d become such close friends first with her, and then her brother. They’re even the ones who helped me get a job working for the team. I’d been an administrative assistant for years, but now I report directly to the team owner.

It’s my dream job, and Owen’s always been there for me. He’s the one who taught me how to change a flat tire, where to find the best burger in town, and all about the team lines and training schedule. This doesn’t need to be any different, right?

“First, I’m sorry for how I acted last night. The things I said . . . the things I did . . .”

He holds up one hand, stopping me. “You’re forgiven. It was a little . . . unexpected, but you don’t need to apologize. I was there too. And I wasn’t that drunk. I’m a big boy; I knew what I was doing.”

He certainly is.

A big boy, that is.

My cheeks turn warm again. Focus, Becca.

Owen has always been good to me. Ever since I befriended Elise, he’s been there—buying our drinks, holding open doors, making sure we got home safely anytime we went out. Simply put, he’s easy to be around. Sweet, and fun, and easy going.

But despite all that, what I just witnessed with Puck Bunny Barbie proves that I can’t get involved with Owen. As if I had any doubts before. For the record, drunk me just got confused for a hot second. But I’m good now.

“I’m more concerned about you. I want to know you’re okay,” he says, concern in his deep voice.

I nod. “I’m fine. And I didn’t mean for all that to come out last night that way, but apparently tequila is my truth serum.” I pause, waiting for Owen to laugh or flash me that signature smirk, but he does neither, so I press on. “I know I need to put myself out there more, and it’s why I signed up for some of those dating apps and have even met up with a couple of guys. I’ve started pushing myself to go out and meet people.”