Wrong Bed, Right Man (Accidental Love) by Rebecca Brooks

Author:Rebecca Brooks
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: City Life Fiction; Two-Hour Romance Short Reads; Romantic Comedy; Contemporary Women's Fiction; Coming of Age Fiction; Women's Short Stories; Rebecca Brooks; Wrong Man Series; Wrong Man Right Bed; Brazen; Entangled Publishing; Series Romance; Category Length Romance; Quick Romance; Popular Romance; sexy Romance; Wrong Bed Romance; Mistaken Identity Romance; Accidental Romance; Accidental Love Series; New York City; One Night Stand Romance; Opposites Attract Romance; NA Romance; Fall; Furniture Maker; Everyday Hero Romance; Blue Collar Hero Romance; Scruffy Hero Romance; Adversaries; Enemies Romance;
Publisher: Entangled Publishing, LLC (Brazen)
Published: 2020-01-21T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

Owen stayed close to his phone, waiting for a response from Rose after her meeting ended. He turned the ringer on so he’d hear it. Then added the vibration, too, so he wouldn’t miss the ringtone when he was using the saws.

But his phone stayed quiet.

He hoped she wasn’t in trouble for texting with him. And he really hoped she wasn’t off with some asshole bigwigs plotting the demise of Crowley & Sons.

Especially not some asshole bigwig she’d once been engaged to. Shit. Thinking about Jason made Owen go all hot and cold from head to toe. At least he no longer had a raging hard-on.

He needed to stay focused now more than ever, which meant keeping his mind clear and his work on track. He was almost done with the last commission. And there was more good news coming his way. The couple had swung by to check out his progress and were thrilled with what they saw. So thrilled that they’d told their friends…who’d called him to set up a consultation.

Spending hours daydreaming about the crinkle around Rose’s eyes when she smiled wasn’t going to change his priorities. When he finally put down his tools and went upstairs to check on his dad, his hand was cramped and his fingers sore—not from furiously jerking off like he’d wanted to all afternoon, but from getting things done.

“How’s it going down there?” his dad asked as he closed the workshop door.

“Okay, I think? It’s slow going.”

“Anything worth doing takes time.”

“Too bad time doesn’t pay our property taxes.” Owen opened the fridge.

His dad gave a small, rueful laugh. “But you’ve got work coming in now, and that does. This commission, and then the next one. Get one after that, and we’ll—”

The intercom buzzed. Perfect timing. Just thinking about all the “ifs” in his father’s vision for the future was making his palms itch. If the new commission went through. If there was another one after that. If this all didn’t fall apart in a matter of months.

If the woman he was sleeping with didn’t help drive away the last of his business altogether.

“You expecting anyone?” Owen asked.

Hank shook his head. “A package for you?”

But Owen hadn’t ordered anything. It was probably a wrong number, a delivery for somebody else. He pressed the intercom. “Hello?”

“Why, hello. Is this Owen Crowley of Crowley & Sons?”

Even through the garbled intercom, he could tell the voice coming from the sidewalk was chipper and cheerful. And decidedly feminine.

“Rose?” he asked uncertainly. His stomach somersaulted, and he glanced at his father, who raised an eyebrow in response.

“Oh, good. You’re home.” Her voice switched from her joking, official tone back to her usual self.

“Yeah?” Usually Owen liked living with his father. It was affordable, he didn’t have to worry about his dad being alone, and since he had so little free time anyway, it didn’t matter that they were packed in like sardines.

But in that moment, he would have given anything to not have his dad standing right beside him, listening in on every word.

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