Chapter Five: Aspen

I felt like an anomaly, sitting in here. Not only was I severely underdressed compared to the other women in the bar, but I'd only been here once before to socialize.

My sister, Alex, used to manage the bar, so there were many nights when I would come to keep her company when it was slow, or I'd hide here when I wanted to get away from my parents. But for a night out with friends? This made twice.

Because this was not my natural habitat, and I felt like I stuck out like a sore thumb. I felt the eyes of both men and women as I walked into the space. Instantly, I felt like tugging down the hem of my shorts. I was a gazelle waltzing through a pride of lions. It was terrifying.

Thankfully, Jenna found a table right away, far in the corner, where I could observe but not be seen. Though, I still felt the wondering gazes and stares from the people close by.

Jenna ordered herself a Dirty Shirley. I knew nothing about cocktails, but I ordered a local beer on tap. She sneered but didn't say a word about my selection.

"I'm glad you finally joined me," she said the minute the server stepped away.

"You didn't leave me much choice." I promised her a few times over the summer I would make it out, but I failed every attempt. Not only did my anxiety skyrocket at the thought of being out in public, but I did not know how to act around people. Engaging in conversation with others was not my forte. I'd take hanging out with cattle or goats instead any day.

But today, when she messaged me to go out with her, like she did every weekend, I actually accepted. The interaction with Owen this afternoon left me frazzled. A stark reminder of why I stayed away from social settings, aside from the market when it was my turn to sell.

"Yes, but it didn't take much convincing. Tryston is over by the pool tables."

My eyes immediately darted in that direction over her shoulder. He was there, towering over his friends. He was still dressed in a suit, which I didn't understand, but Jenna tried explaining to me before that lawyers didn't take days off. I thought maybe he was just trying to appeal to the women in town.

For whatever reason, he was gorgeous to me, when not many men registered that way in my mind. He was taller than his two friends, but no more than six feet at best.

He moved to town a year ago, and I bumped into him at Chuck's Grocery. We reached for the Boston Crème Pie at the same time, and I'd been infatuated ever since. His New England accent pulled me in. I was so used to a Southern drawl that his seemed exotic.

I knew through the grapevine—aka Jenna—that he worked at the law office in town and was single. It was perfect for someone like me, who grew up with most of the eligible men in town. Most were either married already, or they were on the prowl for Susie Homemaker.

I was the complete opposite of that. I had my own farm to manage—or at least I would soon.

Sipping my beer, I let Jenna chatter on while I watched Tryston with rapt attention. He tossed his head back in laughter at something his friend said, and my own grin emerged.

Lost in my own thoughts, I almost missed her asking, "Is that Owen Ramsey at the bar?"

I glanced up to look at the crowd formed around the man seated at the bar. Owen was wearing his same shirt from earlier. But even without those clothes, I'd recognize him anywhere. Years of witnessing his retreating back as I glared at him and his clique cemented his body shape in my mind.

"Appears to be," I said nonchalantly as I took a drink. "Kasey already claimed him, it seems," I added.

Kasey Sinclair was a recently divorced bank teller. Despite how she appeared, with her hand wrapped possessively around Owen's arm, she was extremely nice. Last year, she went through a nasty divorce with the sous chef at world-renowned chef Roland McEntire's restaurant in town.

Like me, she was joining the dating pool again. Unlike me, she actually knew how to converse with men.

Chiming in after taking a deep sip of her drink, she said, "I don't think he's interested."

My brows pinched together as I asked, "What makes you say that?"

"Because in the mirror, he's staring at you. Only I can't decide if he's plotting your demise, like always, or if he's appreciating you."

Giggling, I set my beer down and replied, "Definitely plotting my demise. It's our MO, after all."

"Things change." She shrugged, one strap of her sundress slipping down her shoulder, and she pushed it up as she stood. "I need to use the restroom. Order me another?"

"Sure."

Failing in my attempt to not watch Tryston play pool with his friends, I locked eyes with him once, then I immediately glanced away. Just in time for Owen to slip into my line of sight.

My eyes rolled automatically. It was a reaction I conditioned myself to have in his presence many, many years ago.

"Hi, cricket," he said despondently. It was a tone I'd never heard from him before, and it made me curious. We didn't part on good terms earlier, but I assumed by now that he would be back to his cocky old self.

Despite that change, I sneered at him. "Don't call me that."

"What else should I call you?" he asked as he took the vacant seat.

"I don't know, Owen. Maybe my actual name?"

He pursed his lips, and I assumed he was considering my request. "Nah. I think I'll keep calling you cricket."

"Whatever," I mumbled as I took a sip of my beer and turned my gaze back up to the bar. Kasey leaned her lithe frame against the bar top, narrowing her eyes in my direction. I was fairly certain if I walked outside right now, she'd follow me and have me shanked. Nervous from that thought, I begrudgingly turned my attention back to Owen, whose eyes were glued to me.

I shifted in my seat. "You know, my friend will be back soon."

Leaning back in the chair, Owen replied, "I know. I don't think she'll mind if I'm here. We can always drag over another chair."

I almost spit out my beer at his arrogance. "Owen, you want to sit here, in the bar, with me and Jenna?"

"Jenna Tipson? I knew she looked familiar. I played ball with her older brother."

"Yes, I remember. Now, why do you want to sit with us?"

"Well…," he began, just as a woman sauntered over and slipped him her number.

My jaw unhinged as I watched her casually slink her fingers across his shoulder in her retreat.

She was the first but not the last.

In the time we sat waiting for Jenna's return, women vying for his attention approached him four more times. And, as usual, I was completely invisible to them all.

Thankfully, Jenna appeared from the hallway, chatting with a guy. That would explain what took her so long, while I had the "pleasure" of watching Owen's own dating show unfold before me.

"Does that get tiring?" I asked him after the fifth woman left.

"Until recently, it wasn't really a problem. My fiancée… well, ex-fiancée, always booked us private booths. Sometimes at games we get approached, but… yeah… I mean…." Owen's usually confident demeanor slipped, and I noticed the redness growing on his tan cheeks.

"Anyway, is there something you needed?" I asked, trying to get him to leave the table. The whispers were growing louder with each passing second, and there was already a group forming near the entrance to catch a glimpse of the Owen Ramsey. I almost wished the town wasn't growing like weeds. If we were in the bar with the people we grew up with, no one here would care much that Owen was back in Ashfield. They'd be more concerned that we were seated together.

Just that thought left me snickering. I covered my mouth with my hand but didn't miss the way Owen's eyes followed the movement.

"Maybe. Can I ask you something?"

"Uh, sure?" I cocked my head in intrigue.

"I watched you walk in—"

"Stalker much?"

Owen mimicked my head tilt, and continued, "I watched you walk in, and you seemed like you wanted to be anywhere else. Why is that?"

Pausing, I looked over at Jenna to find her even deeper in conversation with the man.

I leaned forward and rested my arms on the table, clasping both hands around my cold glass. "This isn't really my scene. Not that there's anything wrong with socializing at the local watering hole, but for me, I'm usually in bed in about an hour. Ugh. Just thinking about how tired I'm going to be tomorrow makes my eyes hurt."

Swigging his drink, Owen then mirrored my stance, his own glass wrapped between his large hands. "First off, no one uses the term ‘watering hole.' We're not in a Western film. Second, you should take some time to get out every once in a while. I'm sure the farm will survive without you for a day or two."

He was making the same observation as Dean, yet it irked me to hear it from Owen. Especially since he had no clue about the plans I was drawing up for his family's property.

"We have some workers that live in town, but my dad and I are still very hands-on. And I wouldn't change anything. I love it."

"Do you though? Seems really lonely, if you ask me."

Well, shit. I didn't know how to respond to that, because Owen was absolutely right. Besides Jenna, I had no real friends, no actual relationships. My life had always been set to take over the farm. Everything else was unnecessary. Until Owen pointed it out, I hadn"t realized how lonely I truly was.

But I could fix that. It was what drove me to meet up with Jenna in the first place. Did I need a relationship? No. Would it be nice? Sure. But what I sought was intimacy. I was a twenty-four-year-old virgin who had barely done more than kiss, aside from the single blowjob I'd given. There were teens who saw more action than I have. I knew for a fact that Jenna lost her virginity to Carl Southland at sixteen. I hadn't been jealous then, but I was now.

As a distraction, I gazed over at Tryston, who was bent over the pool table, his backside in my direction. Of course, he was showing a woman—one who'd propositioned Owen—how to line up a shot. She was pressed against him, and I instantly felt envious. Not of her flirting with Tryston, but of her confidence. I lacked that in spades.

I was too lost in my own world that I missed Owen following my stare, until he asked, "Who are we looking at?"

"We're not," I immediately corrected.

"My guess is the taller one. He seems like your type."

My gaze shooting to Owen, I asked, "What makes you say that?"

"Just taking a guess. Since you work outside most of the day, I assumed you probably want someone stable enough in their own career. The suit looks that way. Of course, I don't know who wears a suit to a bar on the weekend."

"He's a lawyer, and their practice is open seven days a week. Farmers aren't the only ones who have crazy schedules."

The corner of Owen's mouth tips upward, and he leans back in victory. "Yet he seems to make time to go out and pick up a woman or two."

"Touché."

"So, why aren't you over there talking to him?"

Sighing, I swirl my fingers through the condensation on the glass. "I don't know. I just…. I'm not that kind of girl."

"What do you mean?"

My fingers continue their wet path along the glass, creating images in the moisture. "I just…."

Suddenly, my fingers are pulled from their doodling, and they rest in Owen's warm grasp. "You just what?" he requested, but all I could focus on was the feel of his thumb rubbing small circles against my palm.

Without thinking, I said, "You know, people are going to wonder why you're holding my hand right now."

Immediately, he replied, "Let them wonder. Now, explain why you aren't over there talking to the guy you're attracted to?"

"Owen…," I whined.

He copycatted, "Aspen."

"Ugh, I can't believe I'm telling you this," I mumbled before slipping my hand free from his. I'd never admit how much I immediately missed the feeling. "I just don't know how, okay? I don't know how to flirt or appear interested. I barely know how to strike up a conversation with a stranger unless it's something work-related."

"That's not true. You're talking to me right now."

My head fell back in a haunted laugh. The kind that forces everyone to think you've gone crazy. "Owen, I'm only talking to you, because I've known you since we were six. You know, when you made it your life's mission to see how much you could torment me?"

"Aw… cricket, that hurts. I thought you actually liked me."

"Why would I like you? When have we ever gotten along?"

"We're getting along now," he pointed out, and I paused, because he was right. In the last ten minutes, we had been getting along. The world didn't implode, and the sun didn't detonate.

Now, I secretly wondered if someone was filming me for a prank show. Sitting up in my chair, I glanced around quickly, searching for any hidden cameras. I locked eyes with Jenna in my exploration, and she held up a hand to her newly acquired date, then made her way over to me.

"Owen Ramsey, what a surprise to see you here."

"It's nice to see you too, Jenna. It's been a while." She rested a hand on the back of his chair and tilted forward. But unlike the women who slipped Owen their numbers, nothing about her stance was sexual. It was friendly and open, yet I still felt a pang of jealousy, and I had no idea why.

I chalked it up to being envious of her ability to speak to everyone like a lifelong friend. It was a talent Jenna possessed since we were kids.

"It has," she added. "So, what are you two talking about over here?"

Chiming in quickly, I replied, "Nothing."

Both of them swiveled their heads in my direction at my outburst.

"Actually, we were just discussing Aspen's love life."

"Oh."

"I don't have a love life," I added. "And Owen was just leaving, now that you've returned."

Jenna's face pinched. "Actually, Derek and I are going to head out and go back to his place for a bit."

"Oh, well, I can close our tabs really quick." I'd driven separately, since my dad drove me to my car at Chuck's and gave it a jumped before I came here, but I didn't want to hang out at the bar by myself if she was leaving. And I wasn't going to complain she was ditching me, when I didn't want to be here in the first place.

As I went to stand, Jenna forcefully pushed at my shoulder for me to remain seated. "No, you stay."

I tried to argue with her that I had no reason to stay, but Owen inserted himself into the quarrel and said, "Actually, cricket, I have something I want to discuss with you. Please stay."

And shit, I was a goner. Even with him saying the nickname I despised, hearing Owen ask me so nicely to stay melted me faster than the frost on my beer glass.

"Fine," I grumbled, and I didn't miss the way his eyes lit up in triumph.

Jenna flagged down the server and paid her bill, then she said goodbye, leaving with Derek in tow. I watched them leave with a sense of longing. I'd never left anywhere with a guy before. Never taken a guy back to my place or gone back to theirs. I felt even smaller than a wallflower. I was the tiny seed that got no sun or rain. I had no way to grow.

"Earth to Aspen."

At the sound of my name, I jerked my head around to where Owen waited with a patient smile. It was a look I'd never witnessed on his face before.

"Sorry. You don't have to sit with me, you know. I'm a big girl."

"I know, but I wasn't lying. I actually have something to discuss with you. Something that may benefit both of us."

Just as he finished his statement, a gorgeous blonde I'd never seen in town before pranced over and fawned over Owen. It was like the world found out he was newly single, and the women were out for blood.

I watched, fascinated, as he gently pried her arms from around his shoulders and explained he was busy. The woman never even turned her head to look in my direction. Instead, she retrieved a marker from her purse, then quickly started jotting down a series of numbers across some of his tattoos on his forearm. She'd clearly done this before, the way she didn't even hesitate.

When he realized what she was doing, he jerked his arm away, the marker leaving a long streak in its wake.

Despite her actions, Owen scolded her tenderly as he stood. I realized for the first time that Owen rarely ever lost his cool. Even through all the antics I performed at his and his clique's expense during school, he never shouted or seemed angry. It was a shocking revelation after knowing what I did about his father.

The woman fled through the exit as quickly as she'd come.

"Look, I was being sincere when I said I wanted to talk to you about something, but I'm drawing a crowd. Is there anywhere else we could talk?"

"Talk?"

"Yes, form words with our tongues and create sentences. Just like that."

"Asshole. I know what you meant, but you actually want to talk to me about something?"

"I do. I want to help you, and I think you can help me."

I pondered his request, then stood, pulled a twenty out of my back pocket, and set it on the table, then gestured for him to follow me. "I suppose we're both in luck."

"What makes you say that?" he asked as he stood and moved around the table until he was barely an arm's length away.

"Because I may be able to help you out with something else too."

"Truce?" he prompted, holding out his hand, and I rolled my eyes, ignoring his gesture.

"Come on, baseball star. Follow me."

I turned to the door as Owen broke out in a grin, his hand still extended in the air. I ignored the curious looks and made my way to the exit, only to feel his arm drape over my shoulders when I reached the halfway mark.

I hated the attention the move caused, but at the same time, I tucked my chin toward my chest and hid my smile.