what not to do when it comes to women and children. I’ve fought damn hard to break free of my past and realize my life isn’t his life. I am not him. I am not your ex.”
“I’m sorry if I made you think I don’t trust you.”
“You don’t. Not yet. And that’s okay. Just stop assuming I’m only out to hurt you, or take something you’re not willing to give. If you’re not interested, all you have to do is say so. I can’t say I won’t be disappointed, but I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want.”
“I am interested,” she said more boldly than she actually felt. “Please understand, my caution comes from experience. You’ve already proven you’re not like the asshole. I’m glad you came last night. I’m glad you’re still here this morning.”
“See, I’m not so hard to like,” he teased, putting her at ease after the tense moments they’d just shared.
She thought about the years she’d spent with her ex and realized they’d never had such an honest conversation like this in their whole marriage.
“What’s that face?”
“I like you a lot.”
“The face you made says otherwise.”
“Just thinking about the past and you and right now. I’m not the naïve girl I used to be.”
“You’re a beautiful woman.”
She smiled because he meant the compliment, unlike her ex, who used to say such things to distract her from his lies and deceits.
Stop thinking about him and concentrate on the man in front of you.
She’d finally seen the light and decided to move on with her life instead of letting the asshole’s actions keep her from doing so because she feared getting hurt again. Not anymore. She really did like Owen and wanted to get to know him better.
Owen held up his glass of orange juice. “To diving in with our eyes open.”
She clinked her glass to his and gave him a genuine smile free of any trepidation. “I’ll drink to that.”
Chapter Nine
----
O WEN PARKED THE truck outside Claire’s Café and Bookstore. He studied the storefront like he was seeing it for the first time. He’d never really noticed all the details. Cream walls with hunter-green trim lent a cottage feel to the small two-story building. Ladies sat at four of the six bistro tables out front, drinking coffee and tea. Some read books, others chatted with friends. All of them greeted Claire with a wave or hello as she stepped out of the truck with Owen and walked to the front door. Several leaned into their friends and whispered, their eyes darting from him to Claire. Yeah, the small-town grapevine was alive and well. By mid-afternoon, everyone in town would know he’d driven Claire to work. By evening, they’d set odds on how long until he proposed, would it be a May or June wedding, and how long before a little one was on the way.
Funny, none of it mattered to him. Even more disturbing was how much he wanted all those things. The thought of sharing them with Claire didn’t stir any desire to flee, but to move closer and claim what he wanted.
They entered the store, announced by the bouncing silver bell over the door. The smell of coffee, pastries, and cinnamon filled the air. Despite breakfast this morning, his stomach rumbled and his mouth watered.
Several people occupied the tables inside. A couple of customer’s stood at the back, perusing the bookcases and reading.
“Morning, Claire,” Gayle called from behind the counter. Owen had been in her husband’s geometry class in high school. It seemed a thousand years ago, but Gayle didn’t look a day over forty, though she must be in her early fifties.
“Hi, Gayle.”
Claire limped to the counter. Gayle saw the bandage on Claire’s elbow and sticking out of her shirtsleeve. She rushed over and took Claire by the shoulders, making her wince. “What happened?”
“It’s nothing, really.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Someone hit me with their car last night.”
That drew stares from many of the customers. If people
“I’m sorry if I made you think I don’t trust you.”
“You don’t. Not yet. And that’s okay. Just stop assuming I’m only out to hurt you, or take something you’re not willing to give. If you’re not interested, all you have to do is say so. I can’t say I won’t be disappointed, but I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want.”
“I am interested,” she said more boldly than she actually felt. “Please understand, my caution comes from experience. You’ve already proven you’re not like the asshole. I’m glad you came last night. I’m glad you’re still here this morning.”
“See, I’m not so hard to like,” he teased, putting her at ease after the tense moments they’d just shared.
She thought about the years she’d spent with her ex and realized they’d never had such an honest conversation like this in their whole marriage.
“What’s that face?”
“I like you a lot.”
“The face you made says otherwise.”
“Just thinking about the past and you and right now. I’m not the naïve girl I used to be.”
“You’re a beautiful woman.”
She smiled because he meant the compliment, unlike her ex, who used to say such things to distract her from his lies and deceits.
Stop thinking about him and concentrate on the man in front of you.
She’d finally seen the light and decided to move on with her life instead of letting the asshole’s actions keep her from doing so because she feared getting hurt again. Not anymore. She really did like Owen and wanted to get to know him better.
Owen held up his glass of orange juice. “To diving in with our eyes open.”
She clinked her glass to his and gave him a genuine smile free of any trepidation. “I’ll drink to that.”
Chapter Nine
----
O WEN PARKED THE truck outside Claire’s Café and Bookstore. He studied the storefront like he was seeing it for the first time. He’d never really noticed all the details. Cream walls with hunter-green trim lent a cottage feel to the small two-story building. Ladies sat at four of the six bistro tables out front, drinking coffee and tea. Some read books, others chatted with friends. All of them greeted Claire with a wave or hello as she stepped out of the truck with Owen and walked to the front door. Several leaned into their friends and whispered, their eyes darting from him to Claire. Yeah, the small-town grapevine was alive and well. By mid-afternoon, everyone in town would know he’d driven Claire to work. By evening, they’d set odds on how long until he proposed, would it be a May or June wedding, and how long before a little one was on the way.
Funny, none of it mattered to him. Even more disturbing was how much he wanted all those things. The thought of sharing them with Claire didn’t stir any desire to flee, but to move closer and claim what he wanted.
They entered the store, announced by the bouncing silver bell over the door. The smell of coffee, pastries, and cinnamon filled the air. Despite breakfast this morning, his stomach rumbled and his mouth watered.
Several people occupied the tables inside. A couple of customer’s stood at the back, perusing the bookcases and reading.
“Morning, Claire,” Gayle called from behind the counter. Owen had been in her husband’s geometry class in high school. It seemed a thousand years ago, but Gayle didn’t look a day over forty, though she must be in her early fifties.
“Hi, Gayle.”
Claire limped to the counter. Gayle saw the bandage on Claire’s elbow and sticking out of her shirtsleeve. She rushed over and took Claire by the shoulders, making her wince. “What happened?”
“It’s nothing, really.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Someone hit me with their car last night.”
That drew stares from many of the customers. If people
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