Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 65437 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65437 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
Owen’s gaze raked carefully over his face, assessing, a slight gleam in his eye. “Is that right?”
“I just can’t concentrate on anything else.”
“Else?”
Crap. “The pain.”
Owen’s lips quirked. He hesitated and glanced out the window. “I know what it is.”
“You do?” Not squeaked at all. “You do?”
A hesitation. “I have to say, I’m glad to hear this isn’t a sickness you’re overly familiar with.”
Jason caught his eyes. “I have never felt this sick in my life.”
Another pause, a nod, and then a cheeky dimple appeared as he refocused on the road. “Must be one hell of a hangover.”
Hangover.
For a moment there he’d thought the cop hadn’t fallen for it.
“Fresh air’s the best remedy,” Owen said. “Swap seats, I’ll drive us to the beach.”
“No!”
Amusement. “No?”
“I just mean . . . salty places never help when I’m sick? Yes. I should avoid them at all costs.”
With a humming sound, Owen said drily, “Then salty places will be off-limits.”
Jason did a double take. Did that . . . did he mean . . . Jason blinked at Owen’s lap.
“All salty places, sweetheart.” A wry grin. “Until you’re feeling better about visiting them again.”
He knew Jason didn’t want to go to the beach.
He’d been playing him.
And now he was saying no more fun until they’d had their talk finalising their finality?
Outrageous.
Jason got out of the car and stomped past Owen to the passenger side. “This sickness will take a very long time to recover from.”
The plea for Owen to reconsider for his own sake was met with nothing more than a quirked lip.
Fine. No more sex with Owen. Didn’t matter. He loved all the things he did with Owen, and he’d enjoy those to their fullest, without stupid conversations redrawing the lines between them.
“What do you want to do, then?” Owen murmured.
“I want to hang out with your friends and family. Alex, Hannah, Jane, your parents. So long as there’s a crowd.” And no way for them to ‘break up’ until he’d figured out how best to get Owen to give him a real chance.
Owen side-eyed him. “You sure you don’t want us to go to the beach?”
A desperate nod. “Let’s, ah . . . let’s . . . deliver donuts to the guys at the station!”
“Nothing I love more than heading to work on my day off.”
“You can stay in the car. I’ll crack a window.” Jason flashed him a wink. “Just look at us functioning.”
It’d been the first thing he could think of, this little trip to the station, but Jason was going through with it. He picked up donuts and everything.
Owen didn’t come inside. Not because he didn’t want to, but he’d been snagged into conversation with a local and had whispered for Jason to save himself. By the looks of it, Owen would be stuck out there for a while.
A relief, really. A few moments without all that glorious distraction would give Jason the space he needed to figure out his plan. Mary accompanied him inside, where he was ushered through to Jane and co. Jane was on a break and had settled herself onto one of the chairs in the corner of the room—the same one Jason had sat on when he’d first come there. She had a paper open to the daily crossword on her lap and was pencilling in a word.
“Hello? I come bearing donuts?” He flipped the lid. Jane set down her paper and gave the box of donuts a mighty welcome.
“What brought this on? In trouble again?”
Jason slumped onto the opposite chair and petted Mary behind the ears. “You could say that.”
She raised an interrogative brow, and Jason . . . Jason told her everything. Not only because she could be quite intimidating when she put on her cop face, but also . . . with her the stakes were at their lowest. He liked her, he really did, but her rejection would not pain him as much as others’ would.
Also, he felt she ought to know sooner. So that . . . so Owen could have someone he could talk to about everything. He needed that support.
“Please, it was all my doing. Owen warned me it wasn’t a bright idea and I ignored the advice, and then he helped me because he’s amazingly good-hearted and kind. And I, of course, go and screw everything up. And then . . .”
Somewhere at the start of his detailed summary, she’d started an Oh Crikey mantra, interspersed with comments like, I knew something was off. Got on much better with you. Didn’t make sense. And later, Oh, you absolute fool. So that’s how the alarm went off! And lastly, Some trouble indeedy.
“What do I do?”
His stomach was twisting so hard by the end of his explanation that his voice came out breathless.
Jane covered her eyes with the crook of her shirt, and when she dropped her arm, she was in cool control.