Come Home Bad Boy (24 page)

Not as if I've made the best choices, either.

I exhaled loudly. My hands ran over my thighs so quickly my jeans became hot from the friction. The driver of the taxi looked back at me in his rear view mirror, his stare expressionless.

I gave him an awkward smirk.
He's probably thinking you're nuts. Calm down.

It was a challenge to do that. Hell, it was impossible. How would Owen react to me telling him that, in spite of what we'd done, I couldn't date him? Anger? Maybe, disbelief?

As I got out of the car my feet hit the ground like blocks of cement. The heart in my chest pounded like a bass drum, the deep sound radiating through my bones.

I still can't understand how quickly I gave in last time.

Why did I do that?

The moment I'd realized it was him, I'd told myself to keep distant. But I couldn't. The strength to stand firm crumbled under his hands. His voice swept through my body with such force I couldn't resist him.

He was too magnetic.
Just the thought of his hard torso, the curved, thick shape of his cock... it had me sweating.

The sound of an air gun buzzed from within the building, freeing my rambling mind. At the doorway I poked my head inside, not seeing a soul around.
Where did the noise come from?

“Why, Hello there.” The deep, baritone voice floated over my shoulders.

Startled by Owen, I jumped slightly. “Hey! I, uh, didn't expect you there.” The corner of my lips fidgeted.
Settle down, deep breaths. He doesn't need to see you this stressed, he'll know you're hiding something.

He stepped out from behind an old seventies conversion van.  His face was spotted with streaks of grease, sweat dripped slowly over his temples. The material of his shirt stretched over his chest, every single muscle along his stomach shifting visibly.

Owen was a living Greek god.

Wow,
had been the only thought in my mind. My gaze followed his broad shoulders to the partially unbuttoned shirt, some of his dark ink exposed. Images of a few nights prior rocked into my mind.

He's mesmerizing in so many ways. I adore the way he looks at me. His strong, yet gentle touch. I can't explain the hold he has over me.

“I'm pretty sure I mentioned last time that I worked here.” He laughed as he wiped the black smears from his knuckles.

My giggle was frantic. “Yes, I suppose you did.” Hating how I was acting, I looked around the room, eager to change the subject. “Anyway, what was wrong with my car?”

“It was nothing. Your alternator had froze, a little W-D forty did the trick.” His hand came up in a spraying motion. “Simple, no surprises.”

No surprises. Unlike me.

Since I'd found out, I'd wanted so badly to tell Owen what was making me so edgy.

I was carrying his child. But how did I give him that news?

The uncertainty of whether he would embrace happiness or show fear and resentment kept the words from forming on my tongue. The secret I held pressed on me constantly, crushing me into the floor so I couldn't find the strength to tell him the truth.

Not even now.

I was a coward.

Coughing into my fist, I nodded. “Alright, that's good news then. How much do I owe you?” My eyes glanced over towards the table we had used during our last encounter.

Owen followed in suit, a slow smile spread across his face. “A date. All you owe me is that.”

From the backroom across the shop, a voice rang out. “Owen! Are you harassing our customer?” A round, red faced man poked out from behind the open door.

“No, Bill.” Owen drew his hand over his hair and smiled in my direction, as if to say, “Here we go.”

“Well, stop jerking around and let her be on her way. I'm sure she has better things to do than shoot the shit with you. Not to mention the job
you
still need to finish.” His face disappeared as quickly as it entered.

Owen sighed, rubbing the side of his neck. “That's my boss. He gets a little antsy over the work here.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” I couldn't help but grin. Seeing Owen get barked at by a man who wasn't in law enforcement was surreal.

“Before he gets on my ass again, how about that date?” His forehead crinkled up with the question.

As much as I want to say yes, a piece of me is screaming no.
“Owen, I don't think that's a good idea.” I shoved my hands into my pockets and stared at the floor.

“Come on, it's not like I'm asking for a lot. And I do believe you just had free work done to your car. So, you sort of owe me,” he said.

I stood silent for a moment. I had convinced myself to not take this date, the many reasons to say no ran through my skull.  He was a man who had been lost and unstable most of his life.
How would I ever tell my child that his father is a killer, a murderer?

Desperately I wanted my therapist mentality to take over, to talk me out of making a bad decision.

That voice never came. It fell quiet to the raging feelings that consumed me entirely.

This could be my chance to tell him. The way he makes me feel inside is electric. No one has ever done that to me.

That has mean to something.

“Alright. One date.” A sternness fell across my face. “But that's all I'm promising you. One date.”

“I knew you'd say yes,” he said with a tilted smirk.

“Don't flatter yourself too much. Maybe it's out of pity.” He made it easy to play along, so I dove in, burying my unease in the flirting.

He looked up towards the ceiling and chuckled. “Yeah, I doubt that.” His hand reached out and brushed my wrist, sliding the car key into my palm.

His touch gives me chills, those hands are delicate against my skin. He knows just how to use them.

“What time do you get off work?” I asked.

He shifted his weight to one side. “I'm supposed to be here till six. Why? You too excited to wait?”

In a way, I am,
I thought to myself. Playing with the key ring in my hand, I avoided his question. “I'll call you later and tell you where to meet me for dinner.”

“You'll tell
me
where to meet
you?
” Chuckling, he let his eyebrows crawl high up his forehead. “That's not how this works.”

I started to head for the door, tossing him a coy glance. “It is if you want to have dinner with me.”

Owen moved quick, blocking my path. From his pocket, he tugged out a shiny, black cell phone. “Hey, don't you need my number to call me?”

Flushing, I searched my purse.
Duh. Where is my mind at?
“Right, okay. Give me yours and I'll text you after.”

“How do I know you won't vanish again?”

“I didn't vanish,” I said quickly. “I never meant...” I trailed off.

Owen eyed me, curious. “Never meant to what?”

“To miss your hearing,” I finished quietly.

He stood there for a long while, his face expressionless. Then, he waved his phone. “Put my number in yours. I'll trust you to call me later for our date.”

Relieved that he was dropping the issue, I started to type his number into my phone as he spoke it. “Okay, I'll see you later.”

Owen flashed his tell-tale smirk. “One way or another, yeah. You will.”

He really won't let me out of our date, will he?
That fact made my heart swell. His determination was unlike anything I'd ever experienced.

On the way to my car, I peeked back over my shoulder. Owen stood watching me, his body resting against the wood frame. The heat in his eyes boiled, threatening to scald me if I stared too long.

As I drove off, his shape faded in the rear view mirror as the building blended into the trees behind me. The quiet of my car was disrupted by thoughts of concern.

How the hell did all this happen? I'm about to go on a date with Owen.

A convicted murderer.

A murderer that I've now slept with, gotten knocked up by, and then let him eat me out in a filthy garage.

Who the hell was I becoming?

Despite all my fears, a feeling of anticipation grew bigger. Owen made my body burn for him, melt with every stroke of his fingers. When we were in the same room, the atmosphere felt charged with his presence.

Could I just ignore all that? Refuse to acknowledge the sheer power between us?

The cold fact was that a baby had been placed in the middle of two people who'd lost their inhibitions and were taken over by lust.
Is that what I feel? Is this just surface level sex?

It can't be, I've never felt like this before.

This is so much stronger.

Once home, I paced back and forth between my bed and the dresser, one hand resting on my stomach. The few outfits I still felt comfortable wearing were laid across the mattress.

Oh my god, I'm so nervous! What am I supposed to wear to this?

I picked up the one black dress I owned, my feet stopped in front of the mirror to hold it up.
I hope this camouflages my stomach.
The coldness of the silver glass brushed the tip of my nose as I leaned closer.

My eyes lowered to look at my belly. “What do you think?” I whispered to the growing life inside of me.

Biscuit appeared in the corner of my eye, tongue swaying back and forth. “Come on up.” I clicked my fingers together as I plopped onto the bed.

The latch of the front door clicked, the walls shaking as someone entered the apartment. “Charlie? I've got great news!” Sara yelled.

I should talk to Sara. Tell her everything. I can't hide this secret anymore.

“I'm in here!” I tried to wipe the worry from my face. I didn't know how to even begin this conversation with her, and I wasn't sure if I was ready to.

Should I tell him first, before anyone else?

“Hey, guess what?” Her voice was full of excitement. She threw my door open and danced into the room.

I forced a curious look, but my thoughts were lost in the turmoil I faced. “What is it?” I asked, sounding more dull than I meant.

“There may be a position opening up at my office. I put your name in for it. Isn't that great?” Her smile was strong, hands curling up as she shook them excitedly side to side.

I tried to show some sign of excitement. “That's, that's good.” Desperately, I wanted to pull myself together.

She moved her eyes to the clothes laid out on my bed. “Ooh, does someone have plans for the evening?”

I shook my head yes, unable to speak.

“I just told you I most likely got you a job, and it looks to me like you're getting ready for a hot night on the town, so why are you acting like someone died?
What
is going on?” she asked as she sat down next to me.

I inhaled a rush of air. “Sara, you don't understand. I'm going out with that guy I mentioned to you before.”

Her hands fell to her lap. “And? Why is that such a bad thing?”

Here it is. This is my opening.
If I didn't speak now, I might never tell her. Not until the baby was here, anyway.

My eyes rose to focus on Sara. Licking my lips, I wished I had some water. My tongue was so thick and heavy, I was sure no words would come out. In spite of this, I found myself talking—before I was even ready. “I'm pregnant.”

“Oh my god.” She stood and leaned against the bedroom wall, her hands clasping over her mouth as she inhaled a gulp of air. “Wow, you're pregnant!
Pregnant!
Whose baby is it?” I could hear the gossiper inside of her shining. My eyes shot her a glance, and immediately she understood. “It's
his?
The guy you crushed on at the prison?”

“Yeah, I haven't slept with anyone else.” The magnitude of the situation made my body numb.

“How far along are you?” The normal brightness of her eyes disappeared. Concern had turned her skin ashen.

This is crazy! I can't even think straight.
My eyes stared blankly into Sara's, I had no answer.

Her body lowered against the wall until she squatted across from me, her chin resting on her fists.  “
Charlie
, what are you going to do?”

My mouth hung open, unsure of what to say.
What can I even do?
I fretted.
Telling Owen opens so many doors, but they could all lead to destruction.

Ignoring him means risking being a mom all alone.

How can I fix this?

What the hell can I do to make this all better?

I don't... I...

“Charlie!” Sara waved her hand in front of my face, pulling me from my thoughts. “Have you told him yet?”

I shook my head no. “I don't know if I want to.”

“Why would you not?” Anger and worry filled her voice. “You have to,” she said.

“I don't know if he's father material. His past isn't the smoothest, he's had a few bumps along the way. I need to think about the baby, too. What if I have this baby and he just walks out one day?” I still wasn't ready to tell her who 'He' actually was.

How do I tell this baby one day that their father is a killer, if I can't even tell Sara it's Owen's child?

“That's not up to you, Charlie. That's up to him. What he decides to do with this whole thing is on him. But you need to give him that chance. It's only right.” She brought her arms up and crossed them over her chest. “Unless you're planning on a different option.”

My eyes narrowed. “No. I could never.”

“And you could never judge someone based on their past. I
know
you. Give him that chance. There was obviously something you liked about him.” 

When the words found their way in, it was the first bit of clarity I had felt in a while. A surge of excitement filled where panic had rested. My hand settled onto my stomach.
She's right, he deserves to know.

I'm having Owen's baby.

I needed to give him that chance, the opportunity to be involved. I couldn't run from him, hiding from what fears lied within myself. It would be selfish to just out right deny this baby a father.

“Charlie, I'm not going to judge you. Regardless of your decision, you'll do what ends up being right,” she said, laying her hand on my shoulder to comfort me.