Four Years Later (One Week Girlfriend #4)(60)

I forgive him. After all, he’s pretty much my boyfriend, right?

A secret little smile curls my lips as I check my text messages, scrolling past the endless list of the ones from Mom. She can’t stop messaging me. Thank God we’re on an unlimited program or we’d be spending a ton of money on the cell phone bill every month.

She really needs to get a hobby. I’m tired of her worrying about me. Lately she keeps referring to Dad and I don’t know why. He’s not a part of our lives any longer. I thought she’d filed for divorce.

I have a message from Kari, too, asking if I’m coming home tonight. She says she doesn’t feel well and I’d rather avoid her since I don’t want to get sick. It’s Wednesday, and normally I work the night shift, but I went in to the diner yesterday morning, asking my boss if I could have a lighter schedule. He agreed, shifting it around so I wasn’t working such late nights, and I only lost about four hours for the week.

That works out perfectly. I’m not a fan of working the late-night shift and I definitely know Owen isn’t a fan of it either. So I changed my schedule to make him happy.

I’m not working tonight, so I think I might go to Owen’s, I text her.

God, one night alone with him in a hotel room and now you’ve turned into a total whore.

Smiling, I shake my head. I know she’s teasing.

You’re right. I’m a complete whore.

Yay! I’m proud of you. Whores unite!

Laughing, I start texting her back when a big hand covers my eyes, rendering me still. I recognize the familiar hint of autumn and pine scent, but I go along with it.

“Guess who?” Owen’s deep, sexy voice washes over me and I shiver.

“Hmm, I don’t know.”

He chuckles. “Did you just call yourself a whore in your text to Kari?”

“Ohmygod, you weren’t supposed to read that.” I try to jerk out of his hold but he won’t let go. He’s got the back of my head pressed against his chest, and he’s so warm and hard. I try to be angry but I’m not. “Come on, Owen.”

“I have a surprise for you. Ready?” His hand is still over my eyes, blocking my vision completely, and I cross my arms in front of my chest, slightly irritated. I’ve never really liked games like this. They always make me uncomfortable.

“I’m ready,” I say, slightly exasperated.

“Keep your eyes closed until I say you can open them, okay?”

“They’re already closed.” I straighten my shoulders and clutch my phone in my hand, facedown. I so didn’t want Owen to read that text, but I guess he kind of couldn’t help it.

So embarrassing.

He removes his hand from my eyes and I hear a gentle rustling, then something is placed in front of me on the table. “Okay, you can open your eyes now.”

I glance down to find a pretty pink rose lying on the table, its petals tightly furled, the flower not quite ready to bloom. I pick it up, careful to avoid the thorns, and bring it to my nose, inhaling the rich scent. Even in its budding state, it smells wonderful. “It’s beautiful,” I say, twirling the stem between my fingers.

He sits down across from me, his mouth curved into a small smile. “You like it?”

“I do.” No boy has ever given me flowers before. “I love it.”

“It reminded me of you.” His smile grows and he looks downright wicked. “The pink is the same color as your—”

“Don’t say it.” I lunge across the table and slap my hand over his mouth to keep him from saying God knows what.

I will die of mortification if he says something dirty, I swear to God. I’m still having a hard time facing him right now. We haven’t seen each other since we came home from our football game trip and I’m feeling a little shy.

He rolls his eyes at me and I drop my hand from his face, settling back down in my chair, sending him a warning look.

“I was going to say your lips.” He stresses the last word. “What the hell did you think I was going to say?”

“You know.” I wave a hand, my cheeks warm with embarrassment. “I was hoping we could get through this session without talking about what happened.”

“Really? That’s a damn shame, Chels. I was hoping to spend the entire hour talking about what happened. Reliving it a little. Maybe I could kiss you and convince you to come back to my place later tonight? Like after you’re done with your shift at the diner?”

“You’d really want me to come by when I finish at two in the morning?” I’m shocked.

“Any time I can see you, I want to see you.” He reaches across the table and grabs my hand, interlacing our fingers, pressing our palms together. “I already told you that, remember?”

I set the rose on the table and study it, smooth my fingers over the velvety-soft petals. “Owen. What were you really going to say about the rose?”

“I already told you. The color reminds me of your lips.”

“Really?” I lift my head, our gazes meeting.

He smiles. “Yeah. Well, and your ni**les. Since they’re both the same shade of pink.”

“Oh my God.” I try to jerk my hand from his but he won’t let me go. “I can’t believe you said that.”

“You asked.” He shrugs, squeezing my hand in his. “So what do you say? Will you come over tonight? I don’t care what time. I’ll stay up and wait for you.”