Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 65437 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65437 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
You okay? he’d mouthed.
It made that small step between them feel raw and intimate, and Jason yanked himself a good step toward the door, laughing, jerking fingers through hair that should’ve been longer. “I, um, better . . .”
Owen slid the tea towel off his shoulder and hung it on the oven door. “You don’t have anything you’d like to ask me?”
Jason blinked.
A thorough side-eye. “About what happened earlier?”
It hit him. The moment in the shop. The horoscope that had drained Owen’s smile. “Y-you wouldn’t mind if I just asked you?”
“Mind?” Owen hummed. “I’m not sure how I feel about it, to be honest. But I’m bracing for it, nonetheless.”
Jason nodded sombrely and decided, nerve wrecking or not, this kind of delicate question required him crossing the raw and intimate space between them, touching Owen’s soft-sleeved arm, and looking up into the unfathomable. “Owen?”
“Yes, Jason?”
His insides jolted. How strange to be so affected by the sound of his own name. Maybe because it felt dangerous to say it aloud, in case anyone overheard. That danger was scary.
And also . . . thrilling?
But enough getting lost in his own feelings. He wanted to understand Owen’s. “Libra shouldn’t fear history repeating itself?”
“Libra . . .”
If Jason had thought Pete looked puzzled at Carl having a boyfriend, it was nothing to what was crossing Owen’s face. He looked genuinely perplexed.
Had Jason been imagining Owen’s quiet response at the store? No. He had been affected by that horoscope. Jason felt that to his core. Then this bafflement came from elsewhere—
Jason winced. “You were expecting a different question, weren’t you?”
“In fact, I was.”
Jason dragged his hand off Owen’s arm with a sheepish smile and rocked back. “Can we just forget that I tried to ask you something probably very personal?”
Owen scrubbed a hand over his jaw and leaned back against the lip of the sink. “It’s fine. My last relationship . . . wasn’t the healthiest. I went into it in a delirious rush. I fell hard and fast, and it ended similarly.”
“Right before he was supposed to move in?”
A heavy raised eyebrow.
Jason tried again with the guilty grin. “Um, Carl told me that part?”
“Tell you a lot about me, did he?”
Jason eyed the full spectrum of Owen’s Oweness. A crazily chiselled cop with charm. “Trust me, he skimped on the details.”
A laugh, bright and full-bodied, like the taste of a grape straight from the vine. It vanished in the space of a swallow, but the aftertaste lingered. And Jason wanted more.
Owen shifted, rubbing his nape. The juxtaposition between the laugh and this . . . Jason touched the tips of his fingers to Owen’s arm again.
“Hayden broke up with me the day we were supposed to move in together.”
“What spectacular timing.”
“Hmm, but I’ve learned a lot about timing since then.” He paused and said poignantly, eye to eye, like it was wisdom to be passed on, “It’s a load of bollocks to fall in love at first sight.”
Jason patted his arm. If he’d learned anything from his past relationships, it was that they took work. A lot of work. Finding instantaneous connection from the start? Myth. Hell, finding connection after years might be a myth too. “I feel the same way. Complete bollocks.”
Owen took a long time searching Jason’s face for sincerity. Jason was one hundred percent serious. Let Owen look, let him freaking taste the truth on the breath rising towards those quietly flattened lips.
Owen nodded and seemed to relax against the counter. “Ask your next question.”
“Really? ‘Cause I’ve been holding onto this one, um, since that moment on the street earlier.”
A wry grin. “Quite the moment that was.”
Jason gave his toothiest grin.
Owen rubbed his hands together and clapped. “Right. I’m ready for it.”
“What were the two things that gave me away?”
Jason hadn’t thought Owen would steer him out of his home, once again groaning about having reached his limit.
It was all very efficiently done, a firm yet gentle grip on the back of his neck, steady steps, and disbelieving laughter—and Jason . . . sort of, kind of, completely got it.
Owen had thought he was ready to share, but had quite suddenly been overcome with embarrassment. Probably he’d been standing there, going over what he’d just disclosed about his ex, and wondering why he’d spoken about it at all. Wondering why he was inviting more questions. It was simply too much, too soon in their neighbourly relationship.
That was okay. Jason knew what it was like to say a little too much. Today, with Pete and Cora. Prime examples.
At least Owen quit while he was ahead.
But two things had given Jason away, and he couldn’t have those same things giving him away to others. If Jason wanted Owen to share—and he did, desperately—he’d have to engage in more bonding. A lot of deep bonding that coaxed Owen into spilling.