Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 49416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 247(@200wpm)___ 198(@250wpm)___ 165(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 247(@200wpm)___ 198(@250wpm)___ 165(@300wpm)
Normally I’d protest such things, but I have to admit, there’s something so damn comforting about being able to turn my brain off when he’s taking charge.
Running my own practice and juggling more than a dozen clients means I make decisions almost every second of every day, mentally analyzing and organizing so many different people's emotions and needs. I don't know if I've ever felt more relaxed or at ease than when Owen is handling things for me. And while I know I’m a strong, capable woman, who's to say I can’t enjoy a little princess treatment? Especially when he so naturally provides it?
We make it to the Plaza in Charleston, chatting the entire hour car ride. Brad’s fundraising team selected the hotel to host tonight's event with the sole purpose of raising funds for those who’d been affected by recent hurricanes, the flooding near devastating to some.
Brad is beyond wealthy and already donated ten million to the cause, and while I couldn't offer nearly that much, I put in my own ten thousand. My father matched that number and added another ninety to go with it, donating anonymously so no one could claim he only did so for the reelection campaign. Brad would get all the donations in the right hands, ensuring those who needed it would be taken care of, which made tonight not only a fun party, but one with a purpose.
“It's a good thing my job is all about not taking my eyes off you,” Owen says as he guides me up the steps and into the main ballroom where tons of guests are dressed in their finest, donating and bidding on auction items with all the proceeds going toward the fundraiser. “Because I certainly won't be able to with you in that dress.”
I laugh, the compliment gliding along my body like warm water. “Are you allowed to say things like that?” I tease.
Owen takes my hand, easily guiding me through the throngs of people. “I can say and do whatever you allow. If you don't want me to do or say something, tell me and I won't.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that,” he answers confidently.
“You're here!” Luna says by way of greeting, her and Brad making their way over to us, their hands interlocked. Brad is smiling at Luna like she hung the moon herself.
I wrap my best friend in a hug, then Brad, before shifting back to Owen's side and motioning to him. “Brad, Luna…” I motion to each in turn. “This is Owen.”
Brad reaches out a hand, and Owen shakes it, the two locking eyes and sizing each up each other up quickly. They're friendly enough, and Luna shakes his hand next, smiling up at him and damn near giggling, which makes me widen my eyes at her.
“We've heard so much about you,” Luna says, grinning as Anne and Jim make their way over to us.
“So much,” Anne says. “Hi again. Anne,” she clarifies. “Just in case you couldn't recognize me without the waitress garb.”
Jim shakes Owen's hand after I introduce him, and we all form this little circle just beyond the silent auction happening a few feet away.
“I'm surprised your tie isn't silver,” Anne says, and I gape her.
Luna laughs, and to my utter surprise, Owen does too, flashing her a look that’s kind and amused.
“I thought that would be a little too on the nose,” Owen says. “Besides, I only like to bust that color out for special occasions.” He glances at me again, and the smile he gives me makes my knees weak.
Luna and Anne chuckle, and our little group falls into small talk that thankfully doesn't involve any more references to Owen’s and my wild first night.
And after an hour of mingling, I tug Owen to the dance floor, not only to take a break from visiting with too many people with well wishes for my father’s campaign, but just for the excuse to get a little closer to him.
I feel completely and utterly relaxed as he takes the lead, one hand in mine and the other on my hip as we sway softly to the melody. It's wonderful to not have to worry about anything—not my anxiety and fear over when Spencer will pop up next, not the full patient list I have the privilege and responsibility to manage, or anything else. I know I have him to thank for that, and it’s almost dizzying to feel this free.
“So, my friends are big fans of yours,” I say, laughing softly as we move to the music.
“I'm glad to hear that,” he says, looking down at me. “I like them too. You have a good inner circle.”
“I'm lucky—”
A profile of someone through the crowd steals the words from my mouth.
I freeze in Owen’s embrace.
It looks like Spencer—same blond hair, same height—