Return To You - Leia Stone Page 0,85

girl around in her hand.

"More drinks. More gambling. Some gratuitous public displays of affection." He pushes against me as he says it, pressing his length against my ass.

My breath catches in my throat. "I think I could handle a little more of all three of those things."

We're stepping onto the elevator when I pull my phone from my purse. I haven't looked at it once since we left the hotel room hours and hours ago.

I'm taken aback when I see my previous boss’ name listed as a missed call. Owen notices my surprise.

"Who's that?" he asks, fingertip bumping against my phone screen.

Jeanne Chapman. "My boss in New York. Old boss, I mean." A weird feeling is sneaking out from behind hidden places inside me. The feeling of waking in the morning and getting ready, of doing my hair and donning professional clothes. The energetic air of the city in the morning, the scent of coffee, the smells of food and gas and a million different perfumes. The six-figure salary I once garnered. I miss being a part of something. I can't deny that.

Owen takes my free hand, lifting it in the air between us and running a feather-light touch across the top. "Penny for your thoughts?"

The elevator descends and my stomach drops. It stops a few floors below and three people get on. Two guys, one girl. They have accents, something European that I can't place accurately.

"I have no idea why she'd be calling me," I murmur, turning into him.

"She left a voicemail. Listen to it."

The elevator deposits us on the ground floor, right into the casino. I step to the side, trying to find a quieter space, which is as futile as it should be considering my current location. Throngs of people excitedly talk over one another, slot machines whistle and ring their bells. I stick a finger in one ear to drown out the din and click on Jeanne's voicemail. Owen stands beside me, surveying the happenings of the casino, hands tucked in the pockets of his navy-blue dress pants. These slacks are not like the ones he wears for work. These are tighter, more modern, and they make him look sexy as sin.

"Autumn, hello," Jeanne's voice breaks through my carnal thoughts. It's been a mere two months since I heard her voice, but I'd already forgotten it. "Jeanne here. I'm sure you were quite surprised to see my call. I'll cut to the chase. Bill is out. He bought a ranch in Montana and moved his entire family there." I may have forgotten the sound of Jeanne's voice, but I can still pick up her emotions from her tone, and right now I hear disbelief mixed with disgust. "We'd like for you to take his place. VP of Product Marketing. I know you're spending some time in”—she pauses, and it hits me that she's trying to remember where I told her I was going—“out west." A blanket term. That's like telling someone I went back east. "Call me. We'd love to have you back. We're willing to work with you on a start date, and I have been authorized to double your previous pay."

The voicemail ends, and goosebumps break out onto my arms.

I slide the phone back into my purse as Jeanne’s voice goes round and round my head.

Go back to New York?

Double my pay?

FUCKING VP before thirty! It’s everything I’ve wanted as far as career goals go.

"Everything okay?" Owen asks.

I look at Owen, at his honest, open face. I know what he would say if I told him what Jeanne said. Which is why I can't.

"She was just checking in to see how things are going out here." The fib slides out smoothly.

Owen nods. I can't tell if he believes me, or if he just wants to.

"Let's go." I take his hand and pull him into the belly of the beast.

We spend the next few hours in our version of debauchery. Owen teaches me roulette and craps. I win and lose, then win again. We drink too much and stay up too late.

For a few hours, we pretend we're not here for the saddest reason ever.

Chapter 23

Owen

There are a lot of things I never thought I'd do in my life.

Getting back together with Autumn is first on that list. I mean, yeah, I prayed for it until my mouth turned dry, but I never thought it would actually happen. The chasm between us seemed too large to cross.

Second on that list? Writing a prescription for medical