My Little Gypsy by Brooke St. James

Author:Brooke St. James [St. James, Brooke]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blue House Press
Published: 2017-10-22T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

We sat on Owen's couch for the next two hours, talking about everything and nothing. We talked a lot about things that had happened to us during the last four years while I'd been in New York. I told him about my friends and roommates, and that led us to a conversation about his work at the family motorcycle business. I had a lot of questions about the process of building them, and he gave me in depth, knowledgeable answers that made me feel proud of him.

He elaborated on his day-to-day, which was really interesting because, between building motorcycles and running the business side of it, he was always doing something different. I had graduated with a degree in marketing, and we talked a little about things I could possibly do in the future to help them out. His mom was into that side of it, and he ended up talking a lot about her. I had met her before, but only briefly, and I really looked forward to getting to know her.

After we'd been talking for a while, Owen mentioned that he wanted to take me for a motorcycle ride, and I easily agreed, saying that I had only done it once before. He must have assumed I had never ridden one, because he acted surprised and seemed really interested in getting the whole the story about my previous experience.

I told him a friend of mine from college named Brian had one and he took me on a ride into the mountains one time during my junior year, which was the truth. Owen grimaced when I told him that. He hated that story, and I loved that he hated it. I giggled at the way his face contorted when I said we had gone into the mountains.

"What were you doing getting on the back of some guy's motorcycle?" he asked.

I continued to giggle and shake my head at him. "He asked me to," I said. "He was just my friend."

"He didn't want to be your friend," Owen said, sounding sure of himself like he knew Brian's motives.

I absolutely loved that he was jealous over me. I reached up and put my hand on the side of his face. We had been sitting there talking for a long time. I was right next to him but we hadn't made that sort of intimate contact, and it gave me all kinds of warm and fuzzy feelings to reach out and touch his face.

I cupped his cheek and jaw in my hand. He seemed big to me—like he was larger than life. I held his face in my palm, marveling at how perfect he was. I couldn't help but feel like I had arrived at some pinnacle or reached some sort major life goal. I ran my thumb along his jaw, marveling at the way his short facial hair moved and shifted under my touch.

It felt wonderful getting home and seeing the new house my parents had built me. It was a brand-new, beautiful, flawless piece of construction, and I really loved it.

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