Kiss and Spell

Belatedly, I remembered my manners. “Owen, this is my boyfriend, Josh. Josh, Owen is the new owner.” I didn’t know which one of them to watch as they greeted each other, but since I figured I’d know what Josh felt soon enough, I focused on Owen. He seemed perfectly open and friendly toward Josh. I’d have had to stretch to detect even the slightest hint of jealousy. Maybe this was all about business, after all.

Josh, on the other hand, had found his inner caveman. I didn’t have to look at him to know he was unhappy. I could feel the tension and dislike radiating off of him. That was weird. I’d never known him to be the jealous type. Then again, I’d never given him anything to be jealous of. At least, I didn’t remember doing so in the vague haze of memories of our relationship.

Owen excused himself, taking out his cell phone, as if he planned to use the break to check messages and return calls. I pretended not to notice Josh’s animosity and said, “Wow, a daytime visit! I feel so special.”

“That’s your new boss?”

“Yeah. He’s got some good ideas. He might even manage to make this place work.” I followed his angry gaze toward Owen, who was on the phone at the other end of the store. “Did he beat you up in high school, or something?”

He blinked back to me. “What?”

“You seem to have taken an instantaneous dislike to my new boss. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were jealous.”

He opened his mouth, closed it, and shook his head, like he was trying to clear it, then he pulled out the chair at the end of the table and sat. “It has nothing to do with him,” he said, not very convincingly. “It’s just that I thought you were finally going to get out of this place and stop treading water with your career, and now he comes along and makes you actually want to keep working here. He’s sidetracking you.”

“You know, it wasn’t too long ago that you were suggesting I just give it all up and let you take care of me,” I pointed out, trying to keep a light, teasing tone in my voice. I tensed anyway, like his answer would be a critical turning point in my life.

“Only because I was trying to take the pressure off. Sometimes I think you sabotage yourself, like you’re afraid of success.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, like he was trying to center himself. “But that’s actually not why I’m here. I wanted to apologize for last night. I left pretty abruptly, which must have given you a terrible impression. The truth is, I suddenly wasn’t feeling too well and wanted to get home as soon as possible, and it was the sort of thing I didn’t want to bring up in a restaurant, if you know what I mean. It wasn’t about you, and I didn’t want you thinking I’d rushed off angry.” He chuckled and added, “Though I guess me showing up here and having a testosterone explosion around your boss probably didn’t help matters.”

I immediately felt bad for having wondered about him. “Oh, that’s okay,” I said. “You meant well. And I hope you’re feeling better.”

“Tons better. I think something I ate didn’t agree with me. You didn’t get sick, did you? It felt like food poisoning.”

“No, I was fine.”

“Then maybe it was a bug, and I hope I didn’t give it to you. Can I make it up to you tonight?”

“How about tomorrow night? You probably ought to make sure you’re better, and I already told Florence I’d go to a movie with her tonight.”

He’d tensed when I declined, but relaxed and grinned when I mentioned Florence. He looked across the room toward her, caught her eye, grinned, and waved. Anyone who saw her friendly response would never guess that she spent most of her time trying to talk me into dating someone else. I was watching her, so I barely noticed out of the corner of my eye when he nodded ever so slightly to her, like he was sending a signal. Her smile faded and she looked much more serious—like a totally different person—when she nodded in response. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have thought they were conspiring against me.

Chapter Seven

Owen and I spent the rest of the day working on details for our scavenger hunt event, interrupted only by a deliveryman bringing me a bouquet of daisies from Josh. The card with the flowers wished me a good evening out and told me he’d be thinking of me.

“That’s nice of him,” Owen said mildly. “How long have you two been together?”

I started to answer, then realized I didn’t know. The start of our relationship was foggy. “A while, I guess,” I said vaguely. A second later, the answer popped into my head. “Nearly a year.”