Damsel Under Stress - Page 21/124

“Owen, we work at the same place, so we’re on the same schedule,” I reminded him.

He flushed slightly, “I didn’t know if you might have any other plans. As for what you need to bring, well, they tend to be rather formal, so you can expect to dress for dinner, and a church service Christmas Eve night is mandatory. You won’t need to bring anything for the dinner. That will have been planned in detail well in advance.”

“I should probably bring gifts. Any suggestions?”

“You were the one who helped me buy my gifts for them,” he reminded me. I refrained from telling him that his gifts had been far, far out of my price range. Great, now I not only had to find an appropriate gift for him, but it had to be appropriate enough to give him in front of the closest thing he had to a family. And, I had to find something for them that wouldn’t make them hate me on sight. The way he described them, I pictured his foster parents as being very stern and forbidding. Still, they couldn’t be all bad for him to have turned out so nice. It wasn’t like there was a niceness gene. That usually had something to do with one’s upbringing.

“Then we’re set,” he said, smiling so brightly that I was glad I’d agreed to go. If it made him that happy, I was certainly game. “I’ll check the train schedule and let you know what time we’ll need to leave from Grand Central. In the meantime, what do you say to spending the day before that together?”

I blinked, trying to catch up. “Huh?” I said, showing how smooth I was at this male-female communication process. He wasn’t the only one who had a thing or two to learn.

“Well, we have noticed that the one thing that seems to bring Ari out of the woodwork is us together. What could be more tempting than the two of us, spending the day enjoying all the romance of Christmas in New York City?”

“So you mean we’d be doing this as work?”

He gave me that shy smile again. “We could have fun, too. That’s certainly allowed. In fact, it would work even better if we were having fun.”

“I guess if we have to do it to get our jobs done, then I’m willing,” I said with a wink. “I should warn you, though, I think I’ve seen every movie that involves any kind of Christmas scene in New York, so my expectations are pretty high.”

“I can’t guarantee a pretty snowfall—well, I probably could, but altering weather patterns is usually frowned upon—but I’ll see what else I can come up with.”

I didn’t think he was likely to kiss me at work, but he was awfully close to me. Our heads were practically touching, and neither of us would have had to move much if we wanted to kiss. Then the sound of a throat clearing made us jump apart. Of course, that made us look guilty, like there had been something going on. I turned to see Owen’s assistant, Jake, who seemed to be trying to look anywhere but at us. “Uh, boss, just bringing your mail,” he said. From the way he acted, you’d think he’d caught us undressed and rolling around on the lab floor.

Owen didn’t help matters when he turned several different shades of red and took the long way around the lab table to take the mail from Jake instead of walking past me. Looking guilty was a sure way of giving the impression that something was going on. “Thank you, Jake,” Owen said firmly, the implied dismissal clear in his tone.

Jake didn’t move. “What’s this I hear about Ari getting away?” he asked.

“Yes, she got away. Thanks for bringing the mail.”

“Wow. I wonder how she pulled that off. That was quite a scene at the party Friday night.”

I was pretty sure Jake was talking about the showdown that had taken place among Idris, Ari, Owen, and me instead of Owen kissing me, but I still felt my face turning red. I ducked back into my makeshift cubicle and let Owen deal with Jake. I had enough to worry about now that I was meeting Owen’s family.

That evening was consumed by a flurry of packing as both of my roommates got ready for their trip home for the holidays. I got assigned Laundromat duty to help them get some last-minute loads done while they packed.

“I hate to leave you alone like this,” Gemma said as she folded and packed the last load I’d brought back.

I continued sorting through the laundry basket for the items of mine I’d thrown into the load. “Actually, I’m going home with Owen.”

“You are?” She raised her voice and called into the living room, where Marcia was packing. “She’s going to meet the hottie’s folks!”

A second later, Marcia was in the bedroom. “Really? He’s taking you home for Christmas?”