Chapter Twelve

Rose rounded the corner, and Owen’s breath caught. Every inch of his skin grew hot with things he couldn’t name.

The falter in her step made his chest squeeze, worried she was going to stop.

Then her steps quickened toward him, and his heart kicked up again, stuttering into overdrive at her approach.

Was she pissed?

But just seeing her walk toward him made him feel like the luckiest bastard in the world. He ran his eyes over her body—her hips as she moved, her hair as it swept over her shoulder. He didn’t care if he had a stupid, sloppy grin on his face as she walked up to him. Somehow, right now, he couldn’t worry about a goddamn thing.

“Owen?” she asked uncertainly.

“Hey,” he said, still grinning.

Her eyes narrowed. “Did you have a good day or something?”

“It’s just taken a turn for the better. Why?”

“Because you look like you just won the lottery.” She sounded suspicious when she said it. Her frown only made him laugh.

“I might have,” he said.

“What?”

“Never mind. Hey, what are you doing tonight?”

“It’s called a phone, you know,” she said as she pulled her keys from her purse.

“Does that mean you’re busy?”

She was quiet for a moment. “Depends on what you’re offering.”

Good. He was hoping she’d ask. He lifted the bag of takeout next to him.

“Behind door number one, we have Thai food from the best place in Queens that I’ve been ordering from for so long, the owner always gives me extra spring rolls.”

“I see you’re not ashamed of your delivery habit.”

“Shame?” He pretended to be shocked. “They’re really good spring rolls.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” she said. “Maybe. How about door number two?”

He pulled out a bottle of red from his bag. This one he was less sure about—wine was a mystery to him, unlike anything deep fried. Rose nodded with approval. “Door number two—relaxation in a bottle.”

“I like the way you think,” she said.

“And door number three—”

“There’s another door?”

He pulled a wrench from his bag.

“Uh,” she stammered. “I’m not as into that.”

“Your bed. I’m afraid we might have…loosened it.” His lips curled into the faintest hint of a smile. That barest acknowledgment of what they’d done was so much dirtier than any four letter word could ever be. From the two pink spots on her perfect pink cheeks, he guessed she was thinking the exact same thing.

He gave the wrench a twirl in his fingers. “The gentlemanly thing would be to double check that nothing needs tightening after our recent test of the product.”

Rose folded her arms across her chest. He could practically see her willing her blush to go down. “I thought you said you’d made sure the bed was unbreakable.” Her eyebrow notched up. “Not standing by your handiwork anymore?”

“I believe in being thorough,” he said, trying to keep a straight face.

But he couldn’t help a grin at the end.

“The Crowley & Sons touch?”

“No one else gets to touch you.” The words came out in a throaty growl. He fucking meant it.

Rose tossed her hair like she didn’t believe him. “We’ll have to see about that.”

“No matter what you pick, behind all of the doors is a massive apology,” he said, entirely serious now.

She nodded. “Next time, you should think about leading with that.”

“Next time, I’m not going to be such an ass.”

She unlocked the front door and pressed her hip against it to push her way in. He hoped it was an invitation.

He may have been all kinds of reckless for coming back here. But he was going to earn his place in her bed tonight.

No matter what.