Series: The Laws of Opposite Attract Series by Vi Keeland
Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 105253 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105253 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
“How about we have it for breakfast? I’m stuffed.”
“That sounds good, actually. It’ll go well with coffee.”
Owen got up and finished cleaning off the table. “I’m gonna go next door and take a shower. We should probably get some sleep in case we have to hog-tie your mother and carry her to my car tomorrow.”
I laughed. “That’s more of a possibility than you think, you know.”
“Oh, I know.” He grinned. “You prepared me for that.”
“Goodnight, Owen.” I grabbed his hand and didn’t let go. I found myself silently begging for him to kiss me. Even if I often pretended that wasn’t what I wanted, I would’ve given anything to feel his lips against mine right now.
Instead of leaning in, though, Owen pulled his hand back. “’Night, Devyn. Sleep tight.”
Then he disappeared into the adjacent room.
Well, I guess I lost that chance.
***
The following morning, I woke up to the worst nausea I’d ever had. Was it nerves?
It kept escalating until finally I had to run to the bathroom and hurl into the toilet.
What the hell? Was it the Italian food?
The last thing I wanted was for Owen to know I’d thrown up—because how gross. But it was loud, and my gut told me he’d probably heard.
There was a knock at the door soon after I cleaned myself up.
Shit. I straightened out my look and went to the door between our rooms.
“Hey, did I just hear you throwing up?” Owen asked, his face concerned.
I sighed. “Yeah. I woke up with an upset stomach.”
“Damn. Do you think it’s food poisoning?”
“It’s possible. But it could also be nerves about today.”
Owen pulled me into a hug. Despite feeling like crap, it was nice to be held.
“Are you okay now?” he asked.
I rubbed my stomach. “I’m a little better. Yeah.”
“And I didn’t even bring you pickled ginger.”
“I know.” I chuckled.
“Well, shit. I guess no Key lime for you this morning, huh?” He pulled back. “Come to think of it, my stomach was rumbling when I woke up, too. I thought it was the three cupcakes I ate at the bakery last night while I was waiting. But maybe it was the Italian?”
“As much as I love that pie, I definitely can’t stomach it right now.”
“You think I can get some ice from the machine and figure out how to take the pie home with us?” He laughed.
“It would probably last a few hours on ice, yeah.”
He tugged gently at my shirt. “What can I get you right now?”
“Nothing. I’m just gonna pour some hot water and make tea.”
“I’ll go downstairs and get some saltines from the store in the lobby. You should have something in your stomach.”
“Thank you. That’ll be great.”
I’d been so caught up in my vomit shame that I hadn’t appreciated how hot Owen looked in the fitted black T-shirt he’d bought at Target the day before.
After he brought the crackers, I forced a few down with my tea. Owen joined me in my room with his coffee and a granola bar he’d picked up downstairs.
We didn’t have much time. So once we were finished, we grabbed our stuff and checked out of the hotel. When we got to the truck repair shop, it wasn’t open yet. We waited outside until we saw someone approach the door with a key.
Exchanging a look, Owen and I exited the car and walked toward him.
“Hello,” Owen said. “I was hoping you could help us. We’re looking for Bo.”
“I’m Bo.” The man narrowed his eyes. “How can I help you?”
Owen and I looked at each other.
“You can tell us where we can find Vera Marks,” I told him.
“Who?”
“Vera Marks,” I repeated. “Your girlfriend. Unless she gave you a fake name. She’s been known to do that, too.”
“There must be some misunderstanding. I don’t have a girlfriend. And I don’t know any Vera.”
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Pretty sure I’d know if I had a girlfriend, especially since I haven’t been interested in women since kindergarten. My partner would be quite upset if I were two-timing him with a woman.”
Owen raised his chin. “What about the blonde you’ve been supposedly hanging around with?”
The man seemed genuinely confused. “My man has long, blond hair. Is that what you mean? Other than that, there ain’t no blonde.”
Realizing we’d hit a dead end, I hung my head. “Thank you, Bo. I’m sorry for wasting your time this morning.”
He nodded and disappeared into the shop, leaving Owen and me standing outside.
***
Five hours later, we pulled up to our building in Manhattan.
Owen parked, and we got out, staring at each other blankly on the sidewalk.
He rubbed my arm. “I’m so fucking sorry, Devyn.”
“Yeah. Me, too.”
He brought me into an embrace. I closed my eyes, relishing every second of being in his arms. As down as I felt, I was still eternally grateful for Owen and his support.