Chapter 11

chapter

eleven

OWEN

The late eighteen hundreds mansion rises into the sky as I slump along the uneven path toward the front porch. Ten years ago, the weeds were so high, they obstructed half the house. Vines, and God knows what kinds of creatures, engulfed the structure that resembled something out of a horror movie.

It bore a haunted mask, for sure.

But looking at it now, it's hard to admit it's the same house. It's trimmed, revitalized, and properly decorated for our high school reunion, thanks in large part to Addison Lockhart.

My button-up attire squeezes my damn throat.

This fucking monkey suit isn't me, and neither are my heavy steps as I sulk up to the open door and enter the black-and-white tiled lobby. I wasn't bogged down to this extreme when they wheeled me into the operating room for my ACL surgery.

And it's all because I think I meant what I said.

Last night, when I offered to loosen Addie up, I was… serious.

For a woman as tightly wound as her, I can't stop picturing the different ways she might release such tension. Does she have a battery-powered friend? Does she use her own hands?

The thought that Justine and Gemma might've been wrong about her status kept me up all night. What if she does have a guy? I almost broke out in hives thinking she might allow some chump to touch her.

Bond might become that chump. Addie might've told me she wouldn't accept if he were to ask her out, but it doesn't mean she really won't. She could've changed her mind between last night and now.

Which is why I brought my alcoholic buddy tonight.

The flask practically burns in the pocket of my sport coat, so I answer its call and suck back a healthy gulp. The faint scent of something floral, like one of my sisters' bath bombs, fills my senses. It's sweet and calming, and it gives me a modicum of understanding as to why my sisters rave about that shit.

In the sitting area, I spot Bond and the fraction of Zen the smell gave me vanishes. I throw back the flask for another sip—an extra dose to help me survive the night.

Only a few old classmates have arrived so far, and Addie is nowhere to be found. I'm surprised she wasn't the first one here, to be honest. Guests are here, and she's not greeting them all at the door, which I figured was her plan.

Bond rushes up to me, eyes gleaming like a guy on a mission, and when he utters her name, I realize I did not have enough to drink. "How should I ask Addie out?" he presses.

"Give her a Skittles-covered planner."

"That's what you consider romantic? It's a mystery why you're still single." His sarcasm irritates the shit out of me.

"It's more romantic than wanting to ask a woman out but dragging your feet for two days," I toss back. "Aren't you leaving tomorrow?"

"I'm not leaving for the moon. She and I can have a lunch date before I return to Atlanta, and then I can be back next weekend."

Two dates? He hasn't grown the balls to ask her out on the first date, and he's already planning the second. What a fucking tool. Was he like this in high school? If so, it's hard to believe we were friends.

I clasp his shoulder with my free hand, the flask warm in my other. I open my mouth to say something sarcastic, but at the last second, guilt nips at my tongue.

It's not his fault I'm currently stuck in limbo with Addie. Why did she and those sinful jeans have to fucking haunt me all night?

"Good luck, buddy" is all I offer before escaping into the lobby, where I find Austin staring at the door.

"Are you waiting for Mr. Buchanan's ghost to float in?" I smirk.

"It'd make this stupid party more interesting, that's for sure," he grumbles.

"We need some music. Good thinking." I smack him on the shoulder.

"I didn't say anything," he says, but I'm already marching toward…

Where do they even keep the music?

My pulse spikes as I launch a full investigation for the damn music just to get my mind off Addie. Bond and Addie. Bond and Addie and what nature calls for.

I ask the bartender and a server, who both point to the corner where a speaker stands. "I knew that," I sarcastically toss over my shoulder at the duo in matching black-and-white uniforms.

With two strides, I reach the speaker and hook my phone up, tap on the song at the top of my list, and bob my head to the quick beat.

"Now it's a party!" I punctuate my outburst with a clap, and more classmates filter into the courtyard, cheering and pumping their fists into the air.

"You always knew how to pick 'em, Conrad," Davis says, pulling me in for a bro hug and a pat on the shoulder.

With the crowd clearly happy, I head back inside, and Austin's still right where I left him.

"Where is Addie? Shouldn't she be here by now?" He drags his heel across a tile in the floor.

I lower the flask and stare at him, then the door. "Do you think something happened to her?"

"Like what?" He furrows his brow.

"A car accident? Or what if she drowned in a pile of calendars and Post-It notes?" My eyes widen. Is that possible? Damn it.

My nerves fire like a swarm of bees released from their honeycomb traps. I scratch at the back of my neck as if I can feel bees on my skin, my neck hot.

How much whiskey have I had? I just had to bring the good shit too, didn't I?

I shove the flask back into my coat pocket and grimace as I catch my friend Nate in my periphery. The word around town was that he wouldn't make it this weekend, but then he surprised us all.

"What are we staring at?" he asks, turning to face the door as a few familiar faces enter, but they're not the ones we're waiting for.

"The girls" is all I offer.

"Right," Nate draws out. "Any particular girls, or…"

"Addie," Austin says. "We're waiting for her. She's supposed to arrive with Caroline and Maren."

"Have you seen Maren yet?" I ask Nathan with a wiggle of my brows. "She looks good, man. The single life is treating her rather well."

He responds with an all-knowing narrowed gaze. "Hand it over."

"I don't know to what you are referring." I hold my head high.

Nathan tsks. "You are so fucking drunk, you probably already have a hangover." He continues gesturing with his hand. "I know you're hiding a flask somewhere in this jacket. Give it to me."

"This is not Mr. Mitchell's history class. You don't have the right to confiscate my contraband."

"Don't make me go in there."

"I dare you."

Nate yanks on my lapels, and I hook my arm around his neck. I've always been bigger than him, and this wouldn't be the first time my superior strength is tested against his.

I don't suspect it'll be the last, either.

"Just tap out," I goad him.

"Aren't we a little too dressed up for this?" he sputters as his palm smacks my nose.

"I'm thinking you might be too old for this," Austin grumbles from our side.

"Never," I toss back on a laugh and raise my arm to take him under too, but a new voice stops me.

"Why am I not surprised to find you guys fighting like two monkeys after a single banana?" Addie appears next to us, hands on her hips.

My spine jerks into an upright position like a seat on a plane for landing. Nate pries the flask from me and raises it over his head, his wide grin victorious, but it was a cheap shot.

Had we not been interrupted, I would've made sure he saw stars.

But Addie's more than an interruption. She's a fucking meteor crashing into my nice and easy life.

Her hair… that dress… the blue eyes glaring at me…

I nearly swallow my tongue.

"What's with this music? I had arranged for a violin soundtrack." She swipes her loose hair off her shoulder, creamy skin momentarily distracting me.

"This is more fun than boring violin music." I point up to the ceiling as if that's where the music is coming from.

"Of course, it was your doing." She shakes her head and marches past everyone, a woman on a mission.

I'm right on her heel. "People love it," I insist. "Look at their happy damn faces."

" Happy damn faces is hardly a good argument—or even an argument at all."

I wave my arm over the guests bobbing their heads along to the electric tunes of my favorite techno song. "Exhibits A-Z and beyond."

She snatches the phone hooked up to the speaker and shoves it into my chest, then hooks her own phone up.

"Where have you even been?" I ask.

"I stopped by the homecoming dance. Everything looked really good, and the kids were having a good time."

Something warm and fuzzy encompasses my body at the thought of our students enjoying themselves and making unforgettable memories. "I like what you said at float the other night, about these kids growing up and having nice memories of high school."

She taps at her phone one last time and sets it onto the stool next to the speaker. "I look back on high school with a smile because of my friends and all the fun we had. For people like me, school was our safe and happy place."

The same feeling from last night takes hold of my heart like a dog with a chew toy, and the top question on the tip of my tongue is—why did she not think of her home as a safe and happy place?

But her grin catches me off guard. She doesn't appear haunted or disappointed like she did in the closet last night.

When I turn, I realize why she's so damn chummy.

Within minutes of the violin playing a slow melody, four couples have already strolled to the center of the courtyard for a slow dance.

"Motherfu—" The rest of the unsavory word catches in my throat as Bond makes his way over.

And my blood boils. I'm pissed that Addie's right. Her choice in music is better suited for this party, and I fucking hate that she's always so right.

But mostly, I hate the hopeful twinkle in Bond's eye as he reaches us.

"Care for a walk?" He holds his bent arm out for her like we're in a scene of Pride and Prejudice .

There's no mistaking how much she loves it, too. Beaming up at him, she loops her arm through his and says, "A walk sounds lovely."

"Give me a break," I mumble, my throat constricting.

"What was that?" Addie cuts her eyes at me.

"Have a nice walk," I forcefully chirp. "Such a nice evening for a wholesome walk. A walk-some , if you will. It's refreshing, no?"

"What have I told you about making up words?" Addie grinds out.

"Do it more?" I shoot back with loads of sarcasm.

Her face twists as Bond leads her away, and before I think better of it, my feet carry after them like they're floating on my frustration alone.

In the hall, the tic in my jaw bounces with a vengeance as Bond grazes Addie's upper arm. He's smiling and leering like a teenage boy who's never been in the presence of a hot woman before.

And Addie is fucking hot . I've realized it doesn't matter if she's rocking a ridiculous outfit for spirit week or if she's dolled up like she is now—she's a damn treasure. There's no other way to describe her.

When Bond finally slips away, I seize the opportunity by the balls and lunge into the spot next to her. "When's the wedding?" I tilt my head toward Bond. "Please tell me I'm invited. I'm great at the Electric Slide."

"That would never happen," she says, emphasizing the word never like her tongue is too heavy.

"Fine. No Electric Slide. I'm good at the Macarena too."

Addie folds her arms over her chest, and her cleavage gently hugs the necklace dangling from her neck. It's rather innocent, but my dick practically punches the zipper on my pants. "Both are great, but I mean, you would never be invited to my wedding, not that it's happening any time soon." She glances toward Bond, who chats with another of our classmates, and she drops her arms back to both sides, much to my relief. "I'm not going out with Bond."

My heart dives into my stomach with the excitement of a kid on the first day of summer. "Oh?" I cock a brow and fight the urge to pump my fist into the air. "Let me guess—you finally admitted I was right about something. That he is, in fact, too boring. I'd love to hear you say it, though. This admission would go straight into a special compartment I keep for such moments."

"You don't need a whole compartment. A small change pouch would suffice since you're never right. You're not right about Bond, either." She slides her fingers through the ends of her hair, unraveling the silky curls.

Fantasies of loosening the rest of her curls and unzipping her dress until it drops into a pool around her feet flit in and out of my irritatingly dirty mind.

"You look…" Addie's bright eyes scan my face, then skim over the open collar and drop to my waist, where the tail of one side of my shirt sticks out over my pants. "Sloppy."

Shit . My round with Nate got a little out of hand, and I was too distracted by Addie to check on my appearance.

"Is that what the kids are calling sexy these days?" I smirk, tucking my shirt back into my pants as my eyes lock onto hers. I can't tear them away.

"You tell me. You're the one who'd know," she shoots back.

"Oh, because I'm a kid, right?" I deadpan. "Trust me, baby, I'm all man. Feel free to check out my huge?—"

"Don't finish that sentence."

"My huge biceps . Get your mind out of the gutter, Lockhart."

She squints. "Are you drunk?"

"No," I answer, as sober as a minister. I might've thought I was headed down a drunken path with my flask of whiskey before she arrived, but one look at her was enough to make me fucking sober.

I shift to my other foot, bearing most of my weight onto my good knee. "This dress is…" My throat thickens as I finally drag my gaze away from her hypnotizing eyes and rake it over her deep blue dress. It fits her perfect figure like a glove, and her feminine perfume transports me to a field of roses. "You look… majestic."

"That's how I'd describe a horse, but okay. Thank you." She smooths one hand over her waist, then turns this way and that before waltzing away, the high-vaulted ceiling hovering over us. She stops a few feet away and whirls around. "For future reference, giving a woman a classic compliment like nice or pretty is perfectly sufficient."

I manage to nod.

And I'm left alone with my racing pulse and the unobstructed view of her ass as she disappears into the courtyard. The hem of her dress sashays from side to side, teasingly rising up her legs with each step, torturing me.

Her hair is especially shiny tonight, and while we talked, the way the light caught the auburn tint of her strands mesmerized me. Not to mention the fucking freckles peppering her cheeks. They were still visible even with her makeup, like the few stars across the sky through the windows. It's daylight, but they're still visible among the scattered clouds.

Admittedly, Addie is right about a lot of things, but she's wrong about the kind of compliment she deserves. The classics might be fine for any other woman, but they're not enough for her. They're too boring to adequately describe her.

This confusing, sexy woman deserves all the compliments under the sun and beyond.

My pulse spikes as I exit the house for some air. My skin is heated like I'm too close to a fire.

In the courtyard, Addie sidles up next to Maren, and I glimpse Addie's blue eyes yet again.

They're light and clear and familiar, and it's not because I've known Addie my whole life. It's because the color of her eyes matches the shade of blue of the sky from the day I was recruited. I'd lain back on the pitcher's mound, alone with the dirt beneath me and the rest of the world buzzing by, and I knew my life was forever changed.

As I continue staring at Addie, the same feeling slams into me and knocks the breath from my lungs.