Begin Again - Jennifer Probst Page 0,35

hide flashed in her gaze. “I’m trying to figure some stuff out. But it’s not what you think with Drew and me.”

Hope surged. He searched her gaze, falling into the ocean blue depths that emanated a swirl of emotions. “Tell me.”

The command was simple, and she seemed to realize he was here to truly listen, not judge her for pursuing another man. God knows, he’d broken something between them, and he wasn’t stupid enough to assume she’d wait for him to return. He had no rights here. Pretending he did disrespected them both, even though his insides roared with pain at the idea of her being intimate with Drew.

“I was his date for a finance dinner with his employees. The night was a bit…awkward. I didn’t really fit in with his crowd, but Drew didn’t seem to notice. He wanted to get more serious. I realized we weren’t a good fit, so I broke up with him.”

“And the kiss?”

“There was paparazzi waiting when we came out. He took the opportunity to kiss me in front of the cameras as proof he was serious about our relationship. I wasn’t pleased.”

The tightness in his chest eased. She’d broken up with him. She’d recognized, on her own, he was rotten on the inside, and a dizzying relief poured through Owen. “He tried to pretend you were still together. That you had an ongoing sexual relationship.”

Her jaw tightened, and temper snapped in her eyes. “We never had sex. Not that it’s your business,” she added.

He tried desperately to keep from giving a primitive, manlike yell of satisfaction, choosing to just nod. “I know.”

“Drew asked about you, and I told him about our past. He didn’t accept the breakup—told me he’d give me some space to rethink things. He probably thought sending the flowers would make you back off. Along with coming to challenge you like some ridiculous cock fight. What a jerk.”

“Classic territorial move,” Owen said, the final pieces fitting together. Again, he couldn’t blame the guy for trying to hold on to Chloe, but lying wasn’t the way to her heart. The real challenge was to crack open her defenses and allow her not only to love him but trust him again. “So here we are.”

A broken laugh escaped her lips. “Guess so. Vivian knows, and so does the staff. We’ll just have to ride out the press for a little while until a new juicy story takes my place. Dad called to remind me about Evie’s birthday. Mia invited us to the farm this weekend so it will be a good escape.”

“Harper called me, too. Asked me to join them.”

She jerked back. “I—I didn’t know. It may not be a good idea for us to be there together. Not now.”

He placed the beer down on the side table and reached over. Her head tilted back to stare at him with wariness, but he smiled gently, his hand pushing back the wayward strand of hair covering her brow. “I disagree. I think it’s a great idea. We both need to get away and spend some quiet time together. I won’t push, Chloe. I just want the opportunity to talk. Ride horses. Visit with the Bishops. I miss you.”

She sucked in a breath, but not before he caught the gleam of longing in her eyes. “I don’t like the feelings I have around you,” she finally said.

God, he loved her directness, the fire trapped within her kind heart. “I’m sure you don’t. It’s easier to hate me and run away. But this is too important to ignore and you’re too damn brave to back away from a mess. Even when you’re scared.”

Her body trembled. “You used to be my best friend,” she whispered. “But now I don’t know what we are to each other.”

Owen broke. Muttering a curse, he reached for her, tucking her against his chest and holding tight. Her shoulders trembled, and he stroked her hair, giving her the comfort she so desperately needed. He held her for a long time, treasuring the firm warmth of her body, her fresh scent, the way she clung back, accepting his embrace.

“Come to the farm with me, Chloe,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Give us some time to figure it out together.”

Her voice was muffled against his chest. “I don’t want to pretend we can go back. We’re not the same young kids we were years ago.”

“No, we’re not. But maybe we can revisit the beginning so we can